TOTALLY WIRED
Friends, I am enmeshed. Snared not in a love triangle but in a love wheel, your humble narrator spinning swoonily at its hub. O vertigo! My ardor radiates, spoking out toward an ever-shifting array of paramours, a true and sacred bond connecting each of us. I love them all equally, yet they remain mutely unaware of one another. Stranger still: I luxuriate in the multitudes. I am no lusty profligate, no bed-hopping heartbreaker. Were my sleek jumpsuit to include pockets, I would store in them no record of my dalliances. Mine is a pure and selfless love, one predicated on comprehension rather than on conquest. I speak them into sentience, we meld with sweet frisson, then they return to stasis. Do you despise me? You may not once you know that…