▸ Column · Present-day grounded comic — a letter that found its way into Logan's hands, with Wade reading over his shoulder
WOLVERINE replies.
The letter
Two years with my boyfriend Marcus. For the last eight months he's decided he gets to read every text the second it lands, before I'm allowed to answer. The origin story: I spent twelve minutes talking fantasy football with a coworker named Derek at his office holiday party, and apparently that was "too friendly." Last week my old college roommate Priya texted asking if I wanted to hit a yoga class, and Marcus stood over my shoulder for five solid minutes demanding to know why she'd put a laughing emoji before I'd even typed a word. I tell him this is surveillance, not trust. He flips it — says I'm being defensive, that I'm "obviously hiding something." I've done nothing. And yet I keep hearing myself apologize just to make the questioning stop. Can I set a hard limit without detonating the whole thing — or am I already past the point where that's even on the table?
Wolverine replies
I'm no good at this talkin' stuff, so here's the truth and you can hate me for it later. A man who stands over your shoulder readin' your mail before you're allowed to answer it ain't a boyfriend. He's a guard. And what you're describin' ain't a relationship with a rough patch — it's a cage with the door painted to look like love.
I know cages, darlin'. They had me in one for a long time, told me it was for my own good too. Here's what a cage does if you sit in it long enough — you stop rattlin' the bars and start callin' it home. That's the part that's already happenin' to you. You said you catch yourself apologizin' just to end the interrogation. For nothin'. For twelve minutes about football and a friend's emoji. He's teachin' you to be small, and you're learnin' fast.
Don't tell me who he is. Look at what he does when it costs him nothin' — he chose to police you. That's your answer.
You asked if you're past the point. No. You ain't past anything. And the "blowin' up the whole relationship" you're scared of? That's his, not yours. He's just slow-walkin' it. Get somewhere safe, get people around you, and stop sayin' sorry for existin'.
— Wolverine
Deadpool weighs in
Logan nailed the cage, so I'll grab the part he growled right past. You — yeah, you, hi — keep doing the thing where you apologize for stuff you didn't do. I'm an expert. I once said sorry to a vending machine. That reflex? It's you quietly agreeing to be guilty so the yelling stops. You've already started writing yourself as the suspect in your own life.
The real question isn't "can I fix this without it exploding." It's that some part of you already KNOWS, which is why you wrote to a column where a guy with knife-hands read it first. Take the pen back. You don't owe Marcus a not-guilty verdict on a yoga text. Stop auditioning for innocent. ...Okay, that was real, here's a taco, exits are clearly marked.
— Deadpool
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