Every relationship I've had involved a ménage à trois.
Settle down. This is not as sexy as it sounds.
The third party has always been a location.
With this one, it was Tokyo. With that one, it was Vermont. And with him it was the desert.
But we never went to these places. Our love affair with location was imaginary at best and avoidance at worst. Who or what were we avoiding? Were these places substitutes for parts of us that went missing? And we missed these places, despite having never been.
The decadence of Tokyo, the cozy hideaway of Vermont, the starkness and isolation of the desert.
The landscapes that escape, the places we bury, the boundaries we set.
I can't even look at a map without mourning.