Modern Love | Guest Essay

By Evan39

May 3, 2025

Whose Ejaculate Is It, Anyway?

He said it during brunch.

Between an overripe mango Bellini and the cold, wet slap of self-awareness.

"My cum belongs to you."

I nodded, not out of agreement but inertia.

At 38, I have learned to let declaratives pass through me like sunlight through a dust-filled window in a Denver studio apartment.

There was a time I would’ve blushed.

A time I believed “belonging” meant something.

A time I hadn’t yet Googled whether sexual possessives could be enforced in mediation.

His name was Dylan.

Or Tyler.

Or perhaps a third man wearing a backward hat and oatmilk ambition.

He said it like a vow.

Like an offering.

Like a man who had never truly understood the implications of gift law.

I remember staring at the eggs.

They were cold.

He was warm.

The line between irony and intimacy had dissolved like a mint in spit.

And I realized:

He didn’t mean me.

He meant anyone.

Who would pretend to need it.

Who would pretend it mattered.

So I smiled.

And said,

“Great. I’ll invoice you quarterly.”

About the Author

Evan39 is currently in pre-litigation with his own reflection. His new book, “I’m Not Lonely, I’m Just Not Being Asked the Right Questions,” is forthcoming from Shambhala Legal Press.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2277053&forum_id=2)#48901015)