Coming Out Poly

Marriage means a lot to me. I've said that before . . . twice. When religion starts to come in (and by 'religion' in this post, I mean over-zealous, close-minded, right-winged, Christian Fundies who think they're better than the depraved world that surrounds them), I get a little hot under the collar. Here's the issue at hand.

What is marriage? Throughout our lives (for most of us) it means a life-long commitment to a person of the opposite sex. It means loving and cherishing that person until one of you dies. My parents were divorced when I was little more than 2; Nyla's parents divorced when she was 8; Elle's parents when she was 12. Only my parents remarried after their divorce. My father has been in a healthy relationship since then - 18 years of marriage. My mother, on the other hand, just divorced her second husband after 18 years. I guess my dad won that competition.

Nyla and I went down to Chicago to see her dad's family for Thanksgiving today. It's always an interesting visit with them. The only person who knows about our lifestyle within the group of those that typically show up to the event is her dad. So it makes for a bit of difficulty - at least in my opinion - to talk about anything not related to Nyla and I. As is typical with any family conversation, the obligatory question "how are things with you?" question comes up. Well, there's a lot going on in my life and in Nyla's life (more on that in the next day or so I imagine).

L. E. Modesitt (he's a science fiction author) wrote a blog post not too long ago, that I'd wanted to comment on, but never got around to doing so until now. While the post is on genre fiction and its relationship with the "literary establishment", he makes a good point further on in the post - which is what I was inspired by.