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If you’re lucky, you’ll have a relationship with someone who loves you a lot and puts you first.

atches are one of the few pieces of jewelry that any man can wear that is universally acceptable.

He had every right to hate me, as did all of his friends and all of his family, who welcomed me for a two-week stay one summer when we were together.

Over the course of the breakup, I started a blog called (referring to myself), where I would write about gay life from the perspective of "that guy you probably still hate." Although I'm no longer writing the blog for him, the relationship did, perhaps, help me become a little less beastly.

That hurt had nothing to do with his sexual orientation and nothing to do with his place in the LGBT acronym. It’s the worst I’ve ever hurt someone, and that realization made me take a hard look at my choices and my actions.

In the long run, our relationship changed me for the better — at his expense.

Although I understand some differences to be deal-breakers (vastly oppositional religious beliefs or political leanings come to mind), I can't understand why the difference between gay or straight and bisexal is such a no-go for so many.

And if you’re a good partner, you will listen to them without immediately getting upset or defensive.

But late one night, in a parking lot after we had spent an angry hour talking on the phone, I made a decision that I would later consider an act of mercy for both of us: I would never speak to him again — and didn't.

When I finally told him the truth, answering his oft-asked inquiries about my infidelity with a final, fateful yes, we remained locked in a toxic back-and-forth, shouting insults at each other for a month.

Until about six months ago, when my phone buzzed with a text message from a name I never expected to see on my screen again: “Do you want to get coffee? I needed to tell him I was sorry, he needed to tell me how much I had hurt him, and we both needed to hug. Sure, he may have technically had more options than me — he was drawn to men and women, while I was only drawn to men — but that didn’t make him any more promiscuous or untrustworthy than the next guy.

And since this week is Bisexual Awareness Week, and I’m feeling sentimental, I’m reflecting on the lessons that relationship taught me, and the ways I learned from him — because my ex-boyfriend was bisexual. The reality was far from it: He was unbearably monogamous and loyal to a fault.

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