Really happy

I’ve been trying to put words into last Friday’s date with A for days.  I’m going to do my best, but I’m still not sure I can. Adjectives don’t exist to describe it, even with the most perfect adverbs to back them up.  I think that the week, in general, was the perfect build up to his arrival that night. We managed to get together three times, twice for coffee, and once for drinks.  We got a lot of our talking and reconnecting packed into those days. What that meant was that when A arrived at my house on Friday night, after three weeks away, words weren’t needed.  He finally ravaged me in the way I wanted, with the caveat that I needed him to not leave marks on me. It was incredible.

I’ve never orgasmed as much as I did that night.  From the moment he walked in the door, I was completely immersed in him.  Each of us clearly needed to scratch an itch, because for the first time in our relationship, we hardly spoke a word but were attached to each other the entire night.  Everything he did to me was perfect and I’m anticipating this Friday more than normal, which is saying something, because close to a year and a half later, I am almost as excited by our dates as I was three months in.  Sure, we have the comfort that a long-term relationship brings, but we also know what that relationship has brought to us. Also, because we haven’t and won’t escalate, we have this unique situation where we get to truly enjoy each other without the trappings that life brings.

The fact that I still want A as much, or possibly even more, than I wanted him last year at this time is something that I want to write about.  I honestly hadn’t thought about it until the last few days, but there’s something to be said about the fact that this far into our relationship, my attraction to him has only grown. There are so many reasons for this that I can’t itemize them, plus, the details would be way too good for his ego, but I think it boils down to the fact that despite all the complexities of our lives and how our relationship fits in it, I have always felt valued and respected by him.  Simply put, I’ve always felt wanted, which makes me want him. Contrast this to the selfish desires and demands of previous men in my life and the dichotomy is mind-blowing, at least to me.

I feel like there is something substantial to the fact that for the first time in my life, at 40-years-old, I have committed relationships where I am still overwhelmingly sexually attracted to a partner.  In my prior relationships, this never happened. For me, I think I have found the reality that is being an adult with functional relationships that I choose every day. The difference between relationships that escalate with societal expectations and those that escalate with choice and active participation of the people involved.  I think I’ve truly discovered what my needs are in love.



It’s been a week since I wrote all that is above.  Last week, A and I got a chance for a quick glass of wine and a bit of a snuggle on the couch and had our normal Friday date, which started late because kids.  True to form, we spent hours talking, laughing, and just touching before anything sexual happened. Then we fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms and it was perfect.  I loved being ravaged, and would welcome it any time it happens, it was perfect after the need of the previous three weeks and the fact that we’d managed to catch up during the week.  Even more, I love that when we haven’t had the chance to meet during the week, we can reconnect, catch up on everything that happened in between our rather sporadic text messages, and really be the couple we are together, before anything else happens.  There is such a comfort in what we have, that we can adapt to our situation and individual needs. I’m just really happy with what we have, and the many forms it takes.



Solo poly

With a quick reconnection with some of the world’s greatest people, I’m back in a super positive mood. Last weekend was filled with connection of the most important kind – A day with my kids full of cuddles, love and laughter, and then an evening spent with two of my oldest friends and then a day where I had drinks and then dinner with two friends.  I’m feeling uplifted and loved again. As per usual, I started this post several days ago, and I’ve since managed to see A an astounding 3 times and have a date with him tonight, and had the most amazing, fun, and sexy date with S the other day. Life is pretty good.

I’m strong and independent, a lone wolf, a strong brick, a rock!  No, truthfully, I need people so much, despite all my independence.  In the last weeks, I’ve had a lot of time to think about being solo poly and what it means in the greater context of my life.  I’ve actively dated married people because I admittedly feel comfort with the limit to escalation with dating those who are otherwise attached.  I like the idea of the self-limiting nature and safety that it provides. I’m not interested or even willing to entertain a relationship with someone who can escalate, because, truthfully, I fear that type of relationship entanglement at this moment.  I understand the positives to my choice. I love my independence combined with the intense connection of the time I spend with my loves. This isn’t a post complaining about my choice, I know it’s the right one for me. There are just some downsides that hit me square in the forehead in recent weeks.

A and I frequently talk about going to various social engagements and it almost always ends in a decision to not give up the time we have alone together to socialize with others.  S and I just don’t have the time and she is much less inclined to social engagements than I am. What this means in each of my relationships is that to most of the outside world, we are not a couple.  There’s no expectation of us showing up at an event together, there are no family dinners or social obligations. Those who know about our relationship know about it more than observe it. Their friends and partners hear about me, my friends and partners hear about them.  We don’t have a public face. We don’t socialize as a couple. That’s not a part of who we are.

In that vein, we don’t have that comfort of many nights together, the idea that we can do *that thing* tomorrow, or there will be time.  We only have right now. We have the upcoming 3-6 hours together. We don’t have days that we can waste in the same place but not together.  We have to make the most of every moment. The comfort is there, but there is never complacency.

There is always something that is more important.  Often it’s kids, whether they are married or not. Often it’s family gatherings or marriage/home/work responsibilities.  Holidays are something I’m never considered in, no one would consider asking me over for Easter dinner or be concerned about where I was going for Christmas.  Truthfully, it doesn’t bother me *that* much. I understand who I am to my partners and what they have and the choices I’ve made and the choices they made and I support them wholeheartedly.  I have a life with my kids and my parents that usually takes priority for me during holidays anyway. It’s not like I’m at home feeling sorry for myself. The reality is that I would love to have a poly arrangement where we could have a huge polycule Christmas with kids and partners and partners of partners.  I would love to have my kids be part of the amazing committed relationships I have. Executing that is less easy. I don’t want to give up my time with my partners, even for my kids. It’s weird having lives that are so intertwined and yet so separate.

I’m unlikely to have a partner I take to my parents for dinner, a partner I purchase a property with, a partner I sleep next to every night for a month any time soon.  I’m unlikely to have someone schedule their vacation around my availability first. I’m unlikely to have a partner to drag to my kids’ Christmas concerts or come to my kids’ birthday parties.  I’m unlikely to have a partner to rope into helping me fix my fence or paint my basement. I am unlikely to have a partner to grow old with. Solo-poly is exactly that – solo. My life is mine.  I don’t share my life with anyone. I share parts of my life with many, but don’t share my whole life with anyone.

Part of what I like about polyamory is that we’ve made our own rules; we have our own path forward.  With both A and S, I have committed relationships. There’s no predestined path to our relationship development.  I love that we have to actively choose each other every day. That society doesn’t participate in dictating where our relationships end up.  Society’s indoctrination is exactly why, after nearly 41 years, I’m having trouble with my new, functional relationship structure. I will happily suffer as I navigate this learning curve because I know this is the right thing for me.  Making the right choices doesn’t come without challenges and learning curves and in this case, a bit of loneliness and alone-ness. Right now, as my separation seems to finally be settled and the divorce should be complete with far less trouble, I think I’ve figured out who I am right now and I’m determining where I want to end up.  This is a fluid and ongoing process as I continue to grow and evolve and date and parent my children and build my career. I want to end this with some kind of complete sentence wrapping up the message, but the fact is, there isn’t one. Sometimes, life teaches us lessons at the most inopportune times. I’m glad I’m past the initial realization stage of this.

It’s her

I’ve been working on this post for THREE weeks.  I will never be done listing why I love her.  This post and the previous one, in an ideal situation, will never be finished.

It’s her strength.

It’s the way she greets me like I’m everything to her in that moment.

It’s her understanding and empathy.

It’s her ability to love people without personal gain.

It’s her kindness.

It’s her self-awareness.

It’s her loyalty.

It’s her vulnerability.

It’s the way she not only accepts me, but celebrates who I am.

It’s her ability to make me laugh.

It’s the way she knows exactly what to say to make me feel like I am important.

It’s her ability to make me moan.

It’s how much I look forward to talking to her every day.

It’s her understanding and love.

It’s the way she looks at me.

It’s the way she holds me.

It’s the way she talks about her other partners, children, and people she loves.

It’s how strong she is physically, but emotionally even more.

It’s how she loves the others in her life.

It’s that she has chosen partners who have become part of my tribe, bringing her closer to me.

It’s that she gets me like no one ever has.

It’s the way she touches me.

It’s the way she is all barfy romantic with me.

It’s her just being her.

It’s that she loves me and I love her.

It’s him

I’ve been working on this post for THREE weeks.  I will never be done listing why I love him.  This post and the next one, in an ideal situation, will never be finished.

It’s the way he strokes his hand across my cheek.

It’s the way he looks at me when he enters the room.

It’s the way he hugs me me like there’s nothing else in the world.

It’s the way he greets me when we meet.

It’s the way he’s ever so slightly shocked that I can cook.

It’s the way he really tries to understand me when I nerd out on my career.

It’s the way he exudes confidence.

It’s how he gives more of himself because he hates to see others suffer.  

It’s the intelligence that he hides from the world.

It’s how he talks about his wife as if she is the most amazing person ever.

It’s the way he says: “Cum for me like a good girl!”

It’s the dimples that come out when he’s trying to get a rise out of me.

It’s the way he manipulates me to his end and I know and allow it.

It’s his passion for what he does.  

It’s his stubbornness.

It’s how loving, empathetic, and caring he really is.

It’s his love of strong women like me.

It’s how important he is to so many people.

It’s the way he appreciates my overt sexuality.

It’s the way he instinctively knows what I need.

It’s the gentle man that’s behind the walls.

It’s his chivalry.

It’s the way I can ask for what I want and he gives me what I need.

It’s the way he owns his shit and acknowledges my feelings without compromise.

It’s him just being him.

It’s that he loves me and I love him.

Unmet needs

The last week has kind of, well, sucked. My usual positive demeanor has been crushed into a pit of negativity and defeatism.  I’m going to just whine a bit, so be warned. I know I sound a bit like a spoiled brat. A’s on a much needed vacation. It’s been two weeks since I’ve been touched in a sexual way.  It’s been slightly less since I saw A last, but our dates where we meet for drinks, while full of intellectual and emotional connection, are nearly devoid of physical connection – unless you count a simple kiss as physical, but I don’t.  I got sick the day he left on vacation over a week ago and I haven’t touched an adult since. In fact, I haven’t touched a person I wasn’t responsible for keeping alive since. I’m dying for touch.

I’m in this lovely place in life where truly amazing people care about me.  They really respect me and love me. They look up to me and want to be with me.  These are good things. I cancelled on S the week before A left because I was so exhausted I couldn’t see straight and I only managed to kiss and grope her while drunk at the poly pub night with her hubby. Then she cancelled on me because she has amazing priorities.  Then I got sick and ruined everything and cancelled on her. So it’s been three weeks since I’ve got to hold her in my arms and I’m going crazy without her. I desperately need to reconnect with her physically.

The fact is, I’m going crazy with the lack of touch. The lack of connection. I think I’ve discovered the downside of solo-poly.  I love being strong and independent and in control. I do. But when you are sick, to the point where you don’t leave the couch for the weekend and to the point where you cancel all your plans because you don’t want to infect everyone you see, the truth is, what you really want is the person who will hold you while you are suffering.  I don’t have that. This is the first time I realized that. The reality is that I never really had that, I just had the illusion of that. When I was sick in the past, F would complain about what I needed. If I was sick in bed because I was unable to do more, it was burden on him. I remember about six months into our relationship, going away for a weekend together.  There was much build up about the physical nature of that weekend. On the Saturday, I got dreadfully sick with food poisoning and spent most of the day and night in the washroom. He spent that time openly complaining about the fact that we weren’t having sex as anticipated. Meanwhile, I wasn’t out of the washroom for more than 20 minutes in a 24 hours period. I felt just good enough to drive back home.  This was the first time that he turned my suffering into something about him. I couldn’t possibly itemize the rest of the times he did that in 14 years.

The fact is, right now, I don’t need much, but what I need is a little affirmation.  I’ve been reaching out to A and to S and the truth is, I’m not getting everything I need.  S is generally great. She reinforces my insecurities with love. She reminds me that she needs me.  She misses me when she can’t touch me. She celebrates my successes and laments my failures. Even apart, we are together in the daily milestones.  I send materially equivalent messages to A. I try not to be upset when he doesn’t respond, but the fact is, sometimes, it feels like he doesn’t care.  Sometimes, I need more than he can give. That’s where we are right now, I think.

I’m mad at him; I miss him; I want to touch him so badly.  I LOVE that he is finally getting a break, but I’m mad as fuck that he can’t be bothered to say “goodnight” or acknowledge my message that my real estate papers are signed for my separation, or even recognize that I ranted about my problems with insurance companies, or that I admitted how much I’m struggling with the lack of connection.  What I need is simple and he’s currently not giving it to me. Even when I directly ask for it.

I need love. Acknowledgement.  I need him to say I mean as much to him as he means to me.  I need to feel like he values me. Like he misses me, even when he’s in paradise with his family.  I need him to care enough to want to care for my needs while he is caring for his. And I’m not sure he does.  I’m in this weird place where I just want him to show he cares about me. I want more than a “Good morning” every day.  I want to feel like I matter, but I don’t feel like I do. I feel insignificant and unimportant and like I don’t matter to him.  

Most of this is a “me” thing, I know this.  When I was in Mexico in December, I took a picture of a beautiful beach side romantic dinner for two that was set up and waiting for a couple to arrive and captioned it “One day”.  A commented that it was amazing. I mentioned the dream that it was. A booked the equivalent romantic dinner for himself and his wife for their 19th wedding anniversary at the hotel they are at in Mexico.  I love that he did that for her. For them. It’s amazing. It’s something to celebrate. Fuck, someone put up with him for 19 years of marriage, that’s big. Compersion was my first response. Then I looked at the pictures.  I realized that even if the situation were different and it was he and I that were in the same place, he’d probably not book the romantic dinner for us. What’s more, it hit me that I may never be able to exclaim publicly, or post a picture on social media, how much he means to me or the history we have in the same way his wife can.  Normally, I can be quite pragmatic about this, it’s the reality of dating a married man who is not “out”. When his wife tags him in brunch posts or family posts or long-time friend posts, I don’t usually feel anything but happy for everything he has. This week though, the things I don’t have hit me in the feels.

Right now, he’s taking the time he needs. The time I know he needs, deserves, and more than anything, I want him to have.  In the meantime, my life hasn’t stopped and I need things from him that he isn’t giving to me and I’m angry about missing the pieces.  At the same time, I want to hug him, hold him, love him, and be one with him, because he fulfills me in ways no man ever has. This weird dichotomy is brought to you by functional relationships where you can love someone and recognize the things that are missing at the same time.

I told A how I was feeling last night, because I had a temporary lack of judgement, because wine.  Of course, he pissed me off completely (sarcasm-ish) by apologizing and being the generally amazing person he is by acknowledging my feelings, explaining his position, and being himself.  

I recognize where I am. These are temporary problems that are easily solved by time.  The next time this happens, I will be much better prepared to deal with the emotions of it, because I’ve experienced it before.  For many people, going two weeks without touch is not something to complain about; I get my privilege in this situation. In fact, looking at it practically, I see how amazing my life is that I feel loved, supported, and valued enough on a daily basis that I have the luxury of feeling sad because no one has touched me in two weeks.  Knowing this doesn’t diminish my need for touch, but understanding the root of my emotions is kind of amazing.


How about I start this like I seem to start every blog post?  The last few weeks have been insanely busy. So busy, that I found myself near tears the other day because a coworker kindly did something small to lighten my load.  This single event was the key to me recognizing I needed to take some time for myself, and the other day, I did just that. A pedicure and eyelash extensions later, I felt slightly more girly and slightly more relaxed.  Add in a date night with A that involved a lot of chatting, some hot, if tame, sex, and a night full of cuddles and love, and I felt like my tank was fuller than it has been in ages.

I really don’t know where to start.  I’m happily in love with S. So much so that we are a bunch of barfy girls in love who are so sappy and hilarious and loving.  Add to that her amazing hubby who makes me laugh and is a beautiful arm candy wingman when I need one because F and W show up at a local poly pub night and I have everything I ever dreamed of in a woman.  Add to that her Daddy who texts with me and will do sexy favours like giving her an extra orgasm and saying it’s from me, and it’s perfect.

A and I are…just us.  It’s fun and full of connection and sexy and never enough.  I love that man deeply and completely and I am so super happy with where we are.  I will always want more time (read: sex) with him, but I am also content with the way he communicates, his boundaries, and the fact that he generally makes a priority out of me. I am loving that his wife and I are becoming friends and seem to really understand each other well.  I love that we are planning winter vacations together and more. It’s all so….exactly what I wanted when I first heard of poly, but I appreciate it even more now that I know it’s not as easy to attain as I once hoped.

I’ve been overwhelmed at work. To the point where the job I love has been stressing me out.  Last week, I was lamenting my current stress and realized something rather significant: Last year, I didn’t notice my work stress.  I was so stressed at home that work was a break, despite the fact that I had so much more to do last year. That’s when I realized how incredibly normal my life is right now.  Settled. I’m content. Sure, I have stress, but it’s not even a small fraction of what I had last year. Last year, at this time, I was fighting with F daily. I was feeling unloved, unwanted, like a single random event could knock the fascade of my functioning life of its rails (See when D broke up with me), and I really didn’t know what way was up.  My kids were emotionally struggling with the horrible home we had provided them. I was coping with W and her lies and the fact that F believed her and deserted me. This year, I’m stressed because I have a lot of work. How awesome is that?

I have so many reasons I am content.  The date night with S when we shared some hot photos with her hubby and he responded with the funniest mocking pictures back and made him my favourite metamour instantly.  Texting with her Daddy and sharing our feelings on how amazing she is. Sex with S, sensual, full of connection, and loving. The amazing orgasms. How hot she is when she cums.  The fact that we managed to fit all of our boobs in one picture! Two amazing visits with A’s wife where we bonded over how much we love him. The date night where A got drunk and his sadist came out and I hit a subspace that left me without anything left but totally satisfied.  The subspace that left me in tears but the kind that had to come out because I had nothing left. The type of dominance that led to me being unable to roll over onto my boobs or sit on my ass comfortably for a couple days. The next morning, the pain left me wanting more, so he took me there.  The pain was intense, the edging was torture, and the orgasms were forced until I had trouble breathing. And in true A form, he rolled on his back and had me finish him off – the ultimate control. Days later, talking with A, I realized that he was so drunk he didn’t remember all that he did to me.  This could be upsetting, but to me it’s just amazing that he can do all that while intoxicated. Why? Simply put, it’s because I said one thing that night. It wasn’t a colour or a scream. It was a simply stated: “I need to stop, it’s too much” and he untied me, cuddled me, and rubbed the rope marks on my body until I collapsed in his arms.  That, right there, is why I know I have my perfection. The man who pushes the boundaries I want pushed. The man who listens to my desires and levels them up. The man who gives me what I need even when it’s not what I want. The man who listens, really listens, to me. You know what else I have? The perfection of a girlfriend who is almost as excited as I am about my date nights.  The girlfriend who wants to know the details of my nights and celebrates every orgasm and every orgasm that was denied. The girlfriend who is as turned on by the anticipation of date nights as I am. The girlfriend who gets me, like no one ever has. The girlfriend who makes me want her like no woman ever has.

My life is going to have stress forever.  I’m stuck with F for the rest of my life, thanks to parenting the coolest four kids on the planet.  I’m stuck with W as long as she is in his life, which will hopefully not be too long, but that man clearly doesn’t have the ability to think logically, so I hold little hope.  There’s also my sister who is still causing issues because F doesn’t respect me enough to also cut her out. These things, while upsetting, are not defining. They are just an inconvenience.  Those three, they are temporary and insignificant, like dog shit on my shoe as I stroll through a park.

What I have with A and S?  Significant. And the science nerd in me loves that and them.  


A couple weeks ago, F and I finally signed our separation papers  It seems that this fact isn’t going to speed things up for us as now I’m getting excuses as to why he can’t find time to sign the land transfer forms from the real estate lawyer.  This is pretty standard fare for him and while he’s away with W on a mini-vacation, I’m working at my second job instead of being home with my kids in the middle of this 13 day stretch. The fact that I picked up my kids early the other day so that he could go away with her notwithstanding, I have been thinking a lot about them and the breakdown of my marriage.  This was all triggered by the fact that my kids let it slip that F and W are looking at buying a house together and a rather annoying thread about hierarchy on a local poly group where W was her awful self. This and a couple other things had me thinking about the dysfunction in the way she interacted with F during our marriage and the way things appear to be going now.

I realized long ago that her insane need for privacy drove a wedge between F and I. I’m not talking personal privacy, things that are understandably none of my business, I wasn’t even allowed to know what they did on their dates, where they went, or who they were with.  I never had a chance at compersion, because I didn’t know what was going on, ever. I remember F talking about her insecurity and how she is such a private person. How it was exhausting to him to have to reassure her and take steps to prevent her upset. I remember him questioning me and my motivations because he had heard something from her.  He talked a lot about how she was so ethical and forceful in making sure people understood her perspective. I realized the other day, that what W did in those early months is classic abuser behaviour. She isolated F from his support system, she ensured the only messages he heard were hers, and insisted that none of what she communicated was shared with others.  She manipulated him almost expertly and he fell for it, hook, line, and sinker.

I’m not saying that F was innocent, because he certainly wasn’t.  We were headed to divorce either way, and his choice to believe her so blindly helped accelerate that.  His passive aggressive manipulation as a way of communication was ever present in our marriage and truthfully, we had each stopped being present in our relationship years before.  By “we”, I mean me too. I know that I wasn’t that great of a wife and that my apathy and sometimes outright contempt for him was years in the making. I realize now how much I want to do things for and work with my partners now, just because I love them, and that isn’t something I’ve felt since before F and I were married.  You see, years of dysfunctional communication happens from both sides, and I certainly am to blame as well.

However, dysfunction aside, looking back on it, it feels so strange that F was so obviously manipulated. I suspect he was in love with the attention he was getting and the support she gave him.  I suspect her demand for privacy and secrecy made him feel loved and desired, like it was a bit of a gift she was giving him, trusting him, so that he willingly cut me out more and more. It was strange to me that when I protested that secrecy to that level was unhealthy, he defended her, but I look back now and I see it is part of the abusive partner’s handbook, and she played that well.  

The other day, she was making a point about how hierarchy exists as a function of couple’s privilege.  I don’t disagree with this, but the idea that established relationships should be respected before expectations and demands are made by the newest partner seems like a given to me.  Within a couple weeks of F meeting W, I was receiving complaints that W thought F having to parent our kids while I was on a night shift was hierarchy. As I read her thoughts on the hierarchy thread and as she argued that couple privilege is the basis of hierarchy, all I saw was the whining, insecurity, and need for control that was so pervasive when she was my metamour.  Someone in the thread asked her to give an example of how privilege is hierarchy and she basically refused, at one point, she said that they fact that the person asking about examples of hierarchy was displaying hierarchy and privilege because she didn’t understand what W meant. This circular argument is all about semantics. On top of that, it strongly resembles gaslighting: she was basically saying that the person asking for clarification was wrong to want to have examples and understand, implying that she was stupid for not automatically accepting W’s point, even though W hadn’t actually made it, other than stating her opinion as fact.

Less than a week after we signed our separation papers, I found out that F is looking at houses to buy with W.  The idea of being financially intertwined with anyone in the future makes me throw up a little in my mouth, while the idea of buying a property with someone when the ink isn’t dry on our separation papers is completely unfathomable.  I think this is just another sign of how incredibly far he’s fallen into her clutches. She has three kids, he has four. She’s been a single mom for a long time, with apparently “good” relationships with the fathers of her children. She’s been renting for years.  She has a job that doesn’t require anything more than high school education, so I’m guessing she doesn’t make more than just above the poverty line, plus her child support. Yet, just after F’s separation papers are signed, where he fought for every single penny and played victim through the whole negotiation, where it was obvious her words were coming out of his mouth, they are looking for a house.  He is buying a house with his girlfriend, when he makes at least three times as much as she does a year. Under no circumstance, even without my jade(d)-colour glasses, does this seem like a good idea.

I am sad that F has been manipulated into this situation, but there is little I can or, truthfully, want to do, about it.  He is an adult who gets to make his own decisions, no matter how stupid they are. My life is much better without him in it, despite the ongoing stress that I will have for the next 15 years as we parent these lovely beings that we created into adulthood.  What bothers me is that my children will have this woman as their step-mother. Her kids as their step-siblings. That means that this horrible, manipulative, abusive, and all around nasty person will be a more permanent part of my children’s lives. It’s going to be hard enough helping my kids through dealing with the passive aggressive manipulation that F deals out, but having to do with W’s version too, and the effect it has on F is going to add to that stress.  My heart breaks for my monkeys at the very thought of it.