The last couple weeks have been a bit crazy and off the wall for me. I keep saying “My life is WEIRD!” Truthfully, I guess to the societal norm-loving world, it is, but to me, *Weird* means that I am exploring opportunities, being true to myself, and living a life of authenticity and freedom. Weird is good.
It’s the holiday season, and with it comes a boyfriend who is away in Mexico at a swingers club. D is having a much deserved break from life in paradise with his wife. I’m seriously hoping he ends up hooking up with someone there, just so I can hear about it. Turns out that jealousy isn’t really something I do. It probably will happen at some time, but right now, it’s all about the compersion.
In the two weeks leading up to D going away, we smuggled every moment we could together. As my work wound down for the end of year, I was able to get away to have lunch with him, or just a quick (not at all quick) kiss in the car. On the day he left for Mexico, I drove over an hour round trip to give him a kiss goodbye. We met for 15 minutes. Totally romantic. I don’t do romantic well, but it just seems to come naturally with him. One of the more romantic things I did was book a babysitter just in case he had time to meet up with me on the day that he was packing to go away. It was a genius idea, we went to a pub near where I work and had an amazing corner table to ourselves and we laughed and talked and connected in the most amazing way. Time is so fun with him. It’s easy and happy and wonderful. I’m totally in love.
The flip side to this is that I broke up with B last Sunday. This requires so much back story, hopefully I can get it out coherently. We work very near to each other, so we met for lunch one day. During the meal, I had a realization hit me like a ton of bricks. The man I was in love with was the man I knew online, in text, and there were so many things I didn’t know about the man sitting across from me. His mannerisms, word choices, intonation, facial expressions, everything was foreign to me. The dichotomy of being in love with him and *not feeling it* was something I couldn’t reconcile.
The problem is, that I know this now. If I had known it then, I could have talked to him about it, worked it out, insisted on spending more time with him in person where we weren’t naked and not talking, but all I know is that I didn’t love the man sitting across from me. Three hard days of thinking had me deciding to break up with him. How could I continue a relationship with him when he was in love with me and I wasn’t in love with him?
I broke up with him in an email because I couldn’t see a situation where we would have the conversation in person that would work. It was a chicken shit move. A lot was lost in translation. He responded graciously and kindly. I didn’t respond immediately, because I wanted to give him time to process.
Four days later, I sent him a message titled “Checking in”. We started a dialogue and have discussed an enormous amount of stuff surrounding our break up. When we started talking again, I still wasn’t fully understanding my change of heart. Through talking and his questioning, I figured out what I said above. He clarified my words that I couldn’t get out properly, to explain things back to me, in the most amazing way:
“What I’m seeing is that the picture of me that you had based on our communication in email ended up differing from the me that you encountered in person. It sounds like you consciously or unconsciously filled in the details to flesh out the picture of me that you got from our email conversations, both before and after we met in person. After we started spending more time in physical proximity, there was a discontinuity between the person you thought you knew from our textual relationship and the person you were getting to know in person, the flesh and blood me instead of only my thoughts and feelings as expressed in high contrast text on a screen. As you had formed an emotional attachment with the virtual me, when the actual me wasn’t the same, you couldn’t reconcile between the two.”
With this amazing perspective, the realization of how I fucked up hit me like a ton of bricks. I could have just talked to him. We could have worked it out. But I made my bed, so now I lie in it. I am angry at myself for my complete failure at self-awareness. For not understanding myself in such an important place to understand myself. Fortunately, we both loved our sexual connection and both want to remain friends, so we’re working out how to transition from a romantic relationship to a friends with benefits situation. It’s great to be talking to him again.
Last night, I went out for one of my poly friend’s birthdays. I got super drunk. She left with her boyfriend and left me responsible for getting her husband back to her hotel. I ended up kissing her husband and insisting that if it were to happen again that he needs to talk to his wife and make sure she is OK with it. I’m completely unwilling to lose her friendship in pursuit of another relationship. I haven’t heard anything from either of them today, but we’ll see what the future holds. I’m sure it will all work out somehow.
Hubby and I are finally back on track after our worst fight ever. We talked it out. Really talked it out after an enormous screaming fight a few days ago. We’re healing and communicating and loving each other again. It’s good.
The ups and downs of this post just show the reality of a life worth living. I wouldn’t change any of this for the world.