This morning, I woke up heartbroken and hurting still.  Luckily for me, O decided to message me with a thinly veiled ultimatum about how if I was happier to be with him I should be with him and how if I was happier now, I shouldn’t. What followed was a lot of “my ex-wife thinks X” and “my other partner thinks Y” to justify asking me to ask his permission to use our communications on my blog.  Respecting boundaries that he established was the name of that game and it would be appropriate if the irony wasn’t so bitter to swallow.  It made me angry.  Really fucking angry.  Instead of owning his shit, he was holding on to random things he thought I did wrong, minor slights really.  I guess it’s easier to mourn the loss of a relationship when you don’t have to admit it was all your fault.  Fortunately, anger is so much easier to process than heartbreak.

So, I asked him to just remember the relationship for what it was and leave it there.  I got a rather sweet, if slightly passive aggressive and guilt-trippy, response and left it there.

Then I got an email from his EX-WIFE.  About my blog. Not to my blog email, but to my PERSONAL FUCKING EMAIL.  She introduced herself.  Stated that she didn’t give me permission to publish stuff about her marriage breakdown.  (I use letters instead of names specifically for the anonymity of everyone involved.)  She figures someone with “average internet sleuthing skills” could figure out who is involved.  Oh, and she used the guilt trip about her child or a friend of her child’s finding out.

So I responded to her not to contact me again. And I messaged O about how I was done. And then I blocked them both on gmail, and O on every other platform we are connected on.  

I’ve been asked to censor my blog to protect people who aren’t even identified.  I have 70 followers, it’s not like many people read this blog.  I feel threatened and violated and am disgusted by the blatant attempt at manipulation.

Ugh. This is all so messy.  Talk about a bullet dodged.  


When the heartbreak hits

I spent this weekend alone.  A few hours ago, I picked up my kids, and now I’m processing all the things that I allowed myself to feel this weekend.  I’ve reached the point where the heartbreak is overwhelmingly painful.  I’ve got a lump in my throat, a tightness in my chest, and a knot in my stomach.  I feel physical pain at the loss of what I had with O.

On Friday night, I went to Robbie Burns night.  This is the same Robbie Burns night event that A goaded me into going to last year, the day after we broke my bed.  The same night that ended up being such an amazing night with both A and D, when I ended up at D’s house while his amazing wife volunteered to sleep on the couch.  O was supposed to be my date this year.  I asked a few friends to pinch hit for him after I broke up with him and finally managed to get one of my friends who I’ve known for 23 years to accompany me.  She was a delightful date and fit in well, having met A and his wife and D and his wife before.  Yes, D and his wife were there too. It was the first time I saw him since the ridiculous drunk texting incident, which I now think was hysterically funny, and am rather thankful it happened, as it was the key step in me finally getting over him.  I’m not saying I don’t still love him, because I do.  But I absolutely wouldn’t take him back if he begged me.  I am in love with the man I dated then, not the man I know him to be now.

I had a great time at Robbie Burns. I enjoyed the scotch; I enjoyed the company; I enjoyed the food.  I didn’t particularly miss O’s presence and other than saying that my friend was pinch hitting for a boyfriend I just broke up with, he didn’t come up.  It was the first time I had spent a whole night out in public with A and his wife.  A isn’t big into public displays of affection, and that is also true with his wife.  I got a kiss when we got into his truck and a kiss after his mom left, yes, that’s right, his MOM!  The thing is, he was out at a function with his wife and his girlfriend.  His girlfriend that only half the people there knew about.  So he was a husband, but not a boyfriend that night.  It was weird, not hard, or upsetting, but weird, to see them in their husband and wife roles.  To see them casually touch each other in the way couples do.  Hands on knees, a rub of the arm, a hand on the shoulder.  To be a part of that night but apart from someone I love.

I cuddled A in the back seat on the way home.  It was nice. It filled me with comfort.  I am in need of reconnection, however, to be the focus of his attention without the rest of his life there.

After A and his wife dropped my friend and I off at home, I crawled into bed.  I slept for 14 hours.  For the first time in months, I slept until I couldn’t sleep anymore.  I woke up with a cold and the deep sadness of heartbreak that overwhelmed me completely.  I am constantly on the move and busy and rushing from thing to thing. I took Saturday for myself to do nothing. I don’t remember the last time I did nothing for a day, but it was definitely at least 10 years ago.  I watched five movies.  I didn’t move off the couch.  But most importantly, I cried.  I cried until my entire face was swollen and my eyes felt like sandpaper. I cried that deep guttural cry that consumed my body and made me struggle to breathe.  It was the ugliest ugly cry of my life, made worse by the hoarse throat and grainy cough.

It was cathartic, in a way.  I guess I knew it was coming. I told A the day after all the awful happened that it would be about a week and a half until the *real* pain hit.  When I’d cry and the heartbreak would hit. Well, it hit.  Heartbreak like I’ve never felt before. I thought the heartbreak after D was the limit of the pain I could experience and it turns out that I was wrong. I long for the hurt I felt last May.

In typical *me* style, instead of asking for what I needed (remember how bad I am at being vulnerable), I tried to entice A to my house with dirty pics and promises of hot sex, and the exhausted man who is too busy for his own good chose sleep over me.  I’m sure if I had told him where I actually was emotionally, that I needed someone to wrap their arms around me and make me feel taken care of, he would have actually been here.  He probably thought I needed too much of him.

The fact is, I am in a constant state of emotional pain turned physical because it’s so real and all-encompassing.  I alternate between the desire to shut down emotionally and be strong and independent and I “don’t need anyone” and the need to have someone I love and trust hold me, keep me safe, and make me feel protected.

There is this crazy knowledge inside of me that I chose this.  I chose the the “rip-the-bandaid-off” approach to ending my relationship with O and the immense pain that comes with it, over the long, slow destruction that would have occurred if I had elected to try to move on.  That I chose to feel this overwhelming hurt over many small hurts.

I have an army of people who love me who are waiting to support me in anyway they can. This includes S, who has been amazing, patient, kind, supportive, and altogether very sexy about the whole thing.  A, who has helped me forget by taking me away so I’m only aware of him and what he’s doing to me, but also with his frequent check-ins and understanding as I tell him how much I hurt, and his desire to be here for me, even when he can’t be.  To D’s wife, who was so loving and supportive.  To A’s wife, who sent me love yesterday, knowing I needed it.  To my mom, who reminded me of my value when I was feeling so very broken.  To so many others who love me because I’m me.

I am broken.  I am hurting.  I am overwhelmed.  Tomorrow, I’ll see A.  He will hug me and for the moment that he holds me, all my pain will disappear.  I will feel his arms around me. My breath will slow.  I’ll smell him. And I will let go.

There is something amazing about going through heartbreak while in love with someone else.  To be deeply in love with someone and mourning the loss of deep love with someone else at the same time.  While I hurt, I recognize the love I have.  I will heal.  While I heal, I have so many people who love me to help me get there.


I have been surrounded by so much love and understanding in the last month. It’s truly amazing to me that I have so many people who love me, support me, rage for me, feel sad for me, and are just there for me.  My tribe.

The good thing about having this type of family is that I can be feeling any emotion, but I never feel alone.  I know there is always someone there who has my back and better yet, those same someones know and understand when I need time away and alone.  They check in but don’t smother.  They send love but don’t demand it in return. These are my people.

I’ve been getting a lot of messages from friends sending me love.  Among the many amazing things they say, are: “You are so strong.”  “You are the strongest person I know.”  “I can’t believe how strong you are.”  “Your strength amazes me.”

I like being strong.  It was an intricate part of my self-identity for a long time.  Strong, independent, opinionated, resourceful….etc, etc.  But always “strong”.  Here’s the thing.  Much of my strength came from not being able to turn towards others for support.  For doing things alone.  Starting in my teenage years with a highly dysfunctional father and an alcoholic step-mother, until they kicked me out of home and I was living “independently” in my last year of high school.  I had support of my mom, but I was resistant to her helping me.  I got myself in a lot of scrapes.  Then I moved to finish my degree and did my PhD and lived and worked independently.  Then I met and eventually married F.  In our relationship, I was emotional support for him, but he wasn’t support for me.  I looked the other way in many situations and got past (or blatantly ignored) some pretty abusive behaviours.  I was “strong” because I had to be.  It was me dealing with things alone and not asking for the help I needed, probably suffering more than necessary because I didn’t have the support system that everyone needs and couldn’t ask for help.

Being strong is idolized. My friends mean it as a compliment. It is a compliment. I’m just not sure that my old version of being strong was a good one.  I think I had to be.  But also, what it created was the inability to ask for help when I needed it. Or even recognize when I needed help.  I had this self-reflective epiphany months ago with O’s help.  I realized I was bad at asking for what I needed in favour of filling other’s needs, because when he asked me what I needed, I would deflect with a question or trying to choose what would make him happiest.  It was a huge realization of a major personality flaw.  I wasn’t just strong, I was trying to be my own fortress. The thing is, I can’t do that. No one can.  We need others. I have four kids to think about, and when I’m trying to manage everything on my own, it doesn’t help them.  It means I’m focused inwards when I need to be there for them.  So, going it alone, because I’m strong and don’t *need* help, isn’t the healthy thing to do.

The thing is, I’m in a situation now where I have a plethora of people who want to support me. They want to be there for me. They want me to ask them for help and support.  This is why, when I asked S to first postpone a date and then cancel a date so I could process, she said ‘yes’ without hesitation. This is why I could ask A for what I needed in way of distraction from my emotional state, and he provided it in the most amazing way possible (Seriously, subspace for 2 hours solid and at least 8 orgasms.  Amazing!) This is why I have friends checking on me and asking if they can do anything and just telling me they are thinking of me.  

Vulnerability is hard for me.  Asking for help and support is vulnerable, even with people we know who care.  Being vulnerable has been a thing of weakness for me for so long, since F exploited my vulnerability to make my issues about him.  But in this case, being “weak” is actually being so strong.  The strong realize that they are not stand alone fortresses, and ask for help from the foundation that holds them up.  

My tribe. My people. My support. My loves. My foundation.  


It’s been a day since I wrote about waking up next to O having sex with his GF and the fallout from that.  I’m nearly sure I’ve made my decision and am just chewing on this new reality for a day or two before I speak to him about it.  Last night involved what I like to refer to as “A sex therapy”, which took me away from the disappointment I was feeling with O and helped me reset.  I had a very short sleep and headed to my second job at way too early o’clock this morning. This has given me a lot of time to sit and process and I’m feeling like I’m understanding what happened better, have rid myself of the anger, and am in a decent place about it.

I’ve decided to break up with O.  The fact is, I can’t get past this.  There isn’t a way to save our relationship from the decision he made to completely disregard my right to consent and for respect.  He didn’t value me at all.  There were several opportunities for him to attempt to dig out of the hole he created, first by not continuing what he was doing when I got up and moved to the couch, second by not owning his shit immediately when messaging me, and third by continuing to offer excuses.  He didn’t. He still really hasn’t, although I suspect he may understand the gravity of what he did.

The fact is, with an amazing comment on my initial post about processing this hurt, one of my readers helped me figure out something.  There is a theme in the way O thinks about things.  In every response, he is trying to find the words he needs to say to quickly get rid of the problem.  He’s not owning his feelings at all, but hiding from the intense emotions he feels. What this translates into is a lack of respect for me.  I realized this as I thought back to the initial discussion where O was warning me to be careful with A, despite the fact that we had been together for over 11 months at that time and I had never had any reason to not have absolute trust in him.  Then the conversation about jealousy and how he doesn’t understand my relationship with A.  Finally this. These seemingly different events have a common theme.  Each one demonstrates a lack of respect for me and my ability to make decisions in my life.  First, he got upset and warned me to be careful with A, demonstrating his lack of respect for the established relationship that I have cherished for a long time.  It tells me he doesn’t respect my decision making ability.  Then the jealousy, triggered by the collar and the fact that he was pushing us towards kink even though it wasn’t a natural state for us to be, and treating me as a primary when I was very clear I didn’t want that label or status.  Again, not respecting my commitment to my other relationship and my ability to make decisions in the framework that I have chosen to live my life and model my poly.  Not respecting the boundaries, wishes, opinions, and desires I had communicated.  Finally, the complete lack of respect for me when he fucked his girlfriend in the bed next to me.  Then continued to fuck her when I was obviously upset. Then the minimizing and excuse making the next morning.  That last event was a violation of my trust, so incredibly disrespectful, and the final straw.

Every single challenge we faced is directly related to a lack of respect.  The situations are all very different.  But each one questions my autonomy, decision making ability, boundaries, judgement, or agency.  I already have to deal with the baggage of one man who didn’t respect me or my boundaries.  I can’t do the same thing again.

I thought O was going to be my life partner.  I thought we were going to be forever.  I’m mourning the loss of a dream but know that I can’t hold on to that dream now that reality includes what he did to me the other night.

I wrote this two days ago. This morning I had the break up conversation with O.  It was a hard conversation to have.  I came in and hugged him and then told him directly that I was breaking up with him.  He said he knew.  I told him I couldn’t compromise my values and keep dating him after he violated such a clear boundary and my right to consent.  We ended it with a hug, said we loved each other, there were some tears shed by him, and he said: “I completely fucked up.  I ruined everything.”  I responded, “Yes, you did”, kissed him on the forehead, and left.  

I looked at this from every possible angle.  I wanted so badly for there to be a way we could get back what we had, but knew we couldn’t.  I tried to look at my behaviour and how it contributed.  Although I truly wish I’d raged and screamed and walked out that night when I woke up with them fucking next to me, other than that, I can clearly see that I didn’t do anything wrong.  What a rare situation to be in, where I am so very certain that the fault lies squarely on someone else’s shoulders.  

I now will mourn the loss of the dream. The dream of the life partner, sharing a family, home, and life with him.  Everything we wanted to do together.  It’s a similar type of sad as it was when I had my miscarriages.  Knowing that through no fault of my own I have lost a real, tangible dream, and everything that I thought would come with it.  

That being said, I am proud of myself. I am my own primary. I am loving myself first.  Honouring myself and being true to myself. I made the hard decision because it was the right one to make.  

Now, I heal.  


Missing X

I was writing this post before the disaster with O that I’m still processing.  I just want to get it out there, and it’s still relevant.

I have a handful of things swimming around in my head that I want to write about. I get an immense amount of comfort from writing out my feelings, some small and rather insignificant and others that are huge and impossible to wrap my brain around easily.

Last summer, X and I rekindled a bit of a relationship. Not romantic, but not just friendship either.  We had maintained that amazing 22 year connection and sexual attraction to each other and we celebrated the sexual connection by sharing as much as two people can share sexually over 1400 km and only an internet connection. It was lovely.  I didn’t feel pressured or commited or like I was obligated. It was simple, just connecting when we could and not worrying about anything in the meantime. I realized somewhere in there that I still love him.  Not in that deep, life partner sort of way, just that he is someone I really care about.  I had realized that having what we had gave me an outlet to express that love and it was exactly what I needed and we got to have a relationship on our own terms.  

Life got busy for him, with some major work successes and everything else that he had going on in his life.  I returned to work after summer, met O, and my life ramped up in its usual fall busyness.  He started having a hard time balancing life, he said, and the time between communications would go longer and longer and then they stopped in mid-November.  The last couple messages I sent went unanswered. He deleted his Facebook, or perhaps blocked me, and I haven’t heard from him in a couple months.

I’ve had enough on my mind in the last months that I was actually actively choosing not to acknowledge or process this development.  My life being what it is, I was reminded of his disappearance like a baseball bat to my head the other day. Through a very cool, statistically improbable series of events, O reconnected with a girl he dated for an intense period when he was 20 years old.  They went for drinks to reconnect and when she went home after hours of clothes-off reconnecting, he and I debriefed.  Turns out that their connection is still there 27 years later, and he’s very excited about this new development.  In fact, it’s the most excited I’ve seen him about dating a new person since we’ve been together.  It resulted in a few feelings on my part, but we quickly talked through them and I am super excited for him, and looking forward to watching his new relationship develop and getting to know my new metamour.  

However, as I thought through the cool story of O and his new-old girlfriend, I recognized the connections between their story and my story with X.  This brought the disappearance of X from my life to the forefront of my mind.  Having worked through the other things that had been bothering me, the emotion of X’s absence in my life hit me like a tonne of bricks. This started with a little bit of envy that O gets to live out the conclusion of that life-long connection and I so badly would like to do that with X.  It’s a little silly being envious, but it would be really cool to actually explore how awesome things could be with X after so many years of fantasizing and connection.

The fact is, X disappeared from my life in October 2016 because he didn’t have his priorities straight with his girlfriend. It caused a huge amount of hurt for me.  I was thrilled to have him return to my life.  He and I had a connection that was evolving nicely and calmly for me and was quite fulfilling. But he left me suddenly.  Again.  I see the pattern. I see how disposable I am to him.  I feel that pain acutely.

I don’t know how I’ll handle it when he returns to my life again.  I guess it depends what’s actually going on in his brain right now.  But I do know that I’m going to be a little more hesitant to welcome him back.  I miss what we had and mostly, I hope he’s OK.  


Early this week, O reconnected with an old flame from 27 years ago.  He’s consumed by NRE and truthfully, it was really cute to see them together when we met at a local polyamory pub night last night.  This pub night is a monthly event, one I try to get to because I rarely socialize with anyone unless it’s with one of my  people one-on-one.  The plan of the night was for me to go to O’s and then head to the pub night together.  Before the pub night, we had a great talk about how we were back to our wonderful dynamic and that things were amazing again.  We talked about things we want to try and I told him that I was *almost* at the point where I could share him, but not quite yet. His new GF was going to meet us at the pub.  I was planning on staying the night at O’s place, as I knew I would have too much to drink to drive and he lives a couple blocks away.  S and her hubby came and met us as did O’s new GF.  It was a rather perfect poly evening, with lots of wine, lots of kisses, and lots of laughing.  Around 11 p.m., we left the pub to walk to O’s house a few blocks away.  Each of us were holding O’s hand and I remember joking on the way to his place that it would be hard for the three of us to fit into his bed. I really didn’t realize that she was coming to his house too.

When we arrived at his house, O and his GF were making out in the driveway, and while I am happy for his happiness, it isn’t something I want to see.  So I let myself into his place, stripped, and crawled into bed, fully expecting that he would crawl into bed and cuddle me as we slept.  The next thing I knew, they were inside his apartment, and making out there.  I sent him a text that said “I love you.  Where is your phone?” (it was going off in his suite) and then “I love you. You’re making out with GF right now. I’m intentionally not watching. I want you to be happy.”  I heard the “New text message from *me*” go off on his phone and we giggled about the fact that I was texting him while he was in the room.  I then fell asleep, assuming that they were saying goodbye and that he would be coming to bed shortly.  

An indeterminate amount of time later, I woke up because the bed was shaking and there were some joyful sex noises permeating the room.  O and his GF were having sex next to me on the bed.  I got up, stumbled to the bathroom, did my thing, and through my drunken haze, tried to figure out what was going on.  I returned into the room (I couldn’t just wander naked into the other part of the house that O shares with his roommate) and crawled onto the couch that’s at the foot of his bed.  They stopped their fucking for long enough for him to ask me to join them, and I declined.  He asked me to come back to bed, and I said “No, I’m good here, I’m just going to cover myself with a blanket and go back to sleep.”  I then curled up in fetal position on the couch, covered myself with a blanket, and plugged my ears to drown out the sex noises coming from a couple feet away from me.  At this point, I was in survival mode. I wish I had gotten dressed and left and called a friend to get me, but I was curled up and trying to make myself as small as possible and shelter myself from the awful happening around me.

Some time later, he said good-bye to his GF and woke me up and asked me to come to bed.  I declined again, saying that I was going to sober up, start processing what just happened, and when I was ready, I would go home.  I woke about 4:00 a.m. and gathered my things and went home without saying good-bye. I crawled into my bed and slept for a short while longer and went to work.  We’ve been texting all day.  Here’s how that went down.

Good morning, love!  Can I see you after work this afternoon? Or at least a phone call?  Please let me know.  The evening totally didn’t go as I expected and….wine.  I hurt your feelings and I feel like dirt.  I am sorry.  

(I don’t want to say how little I cared that he felt bad.  I was so pissed off at the immediate excuse and thinking it was “hurt feelings”.)

Good morning. I’m sure I can find time to talk this afternoon.  I’m not really ready to discuss anything yet.  I’m trying to wrap my brain around how I ended up in a bed where my boyfriend was fucking his girlfriend next to me and then on a couch where I had to listen to everything. I’m trying to figure out how I feel about it, other than disgusted with myself that I didn’t have good enough boundaries to begin with and that I was too drunk to just leave.

I can meet you after work but I have to pick up my daughter at 4:00….I tried to include you but you weren’t into it.  Sorry, we should have talked about possibilities beforehand and should have checked-in when we got to my place.  If you tried and I was too drunk to register it, I will own that and apologize.

(More excuses.  No ownership or acknowledgement of what he did and how fucking inappropriate it was)

I have a busy afternoon planned and a date with A tonight, and honestly, I’m not really in the mood to see you. I’m livid.  This is a major consent violation. MAJOR.  “Tried to include me”?  Fuck that. You made a really bad fucking decision.  I was asleep when you guys crawled into bed. I wasn’t “not into it”, I was FUCKING SLEEPING.  What you two did was completely fucking inappropriate.  

And while I’m at it, the fact that you continued after I woke up and moved to the couch is even that much more inappropriate.  Jesus Fuck.  How could you?

I am sorry. We should have talked about this beforehand and on the walk home. I totally wasn’t thinking straight and was very drunk.  I should have had dinner.  I am sorry, Love.

(More excuses.  This time about drinking.  More pissed off.  More disappointed in him. And myself.)

Do you blame bad furniture placement when you stub your toe too?  Drunk is not an excuse.  In fact, there is no excuse.

I’m going to suggest that you back the fuck up, think really hard about what you did last night and what you need to say to me about it.  This isn’t a little thing.  This is a major thing. You are saying all the wrong things, in a situation where I was trying to determine if I can get past it.  I don’t have much left to give you in this situation. I am really really fucking angry.  Consent is so important. You completely violated it.  You fucked up, and fucked up big time. It’s a huge breach of trust.  I’m going to spend the day and night processing this and deciding what I need to do. I recommend you do the same.  

I highly recommend that you not make another excuse or flippant remark about what you guys did.

I feel ashamed.  How can I make this up to you?

(This is where I lost it. I was so angry I was raging.  Seriously?  What the actual fuck? You fuck up that big, and you ask me to tell you what you need to do?  It’s not eating the last piece of fucking cake! You fucked your GF in the bed next to me without my fucking consent!  Own your fuck up!  NRE is not an excuse to treat people as disposable. Adults don’t allow NRE to make their decisions for them.)

I don’t think you can.

I went for lunch and thought. I talked to G, who is amazing, as always, with the perspective.  Then I realized that I needed to put him in my shoes.

I want you to think about this:  What if you, me, and A left the bar together and got a cab to my house.  You are drunk and crawl into bed naked while I’m saying a lengthy goodbye outside. We come into the bedroom and we’re still making out.  You see us and text to gently remind that you’re there and witnessing things. You fall asleep assuming I’ll crawl into bed with  you.  You wake up an indeterminate amount of time later because the bed is rocking and all you can hear is the noise of A fucking me hard and the sounds I make.  You don’t say anything, but get up and go to the bathroom. When you come back, we don’t stop, but ask you if you want to join. You say “no”, and curl up on the floor at the end of the bed.  I ask for you to return to bed and you say “no, I’ll stay here”, and then you curl up in fetal position and I return to fucking A.  You have to plug your ears to drown out the sounds of our hot fucking that I’m clearly enjoying.

Eventually, we stop. I kiss A goodbye and he goes home.  I wake you and ask you to come to bed. You decline.  

When you are sober enough to drive, you leave and go home.

What would you do in that situation when I messaged you and said “Well, I tried to include you, but you weren’t interested.” and “Sorry, I was drunk, it’s not what I expected from the evening.”

Having someone else sleep over in a sexual way without prior consent from me is disrespectful, assumes my opinion and consent are meaningless, and shows no value for our time together.  

Not a thing about your responses show ownership or recognition of how inappropriate, disrespectful, and unloving you were and how little you valued me, my opinions, my feelings or consent last night.

So tell me, what would you do, if I had done all this to you, and then completely failed to own my shit?

What would you need me to do to “make it up” to you?

Using your example, I would start by insisting you give me a complete and sincere apology, in person, outlining all the ways you disrespected me and our relationship.  I would insist you demonstrate a full understanding of all the ways consent was needed and was not given or even sought in this case.

To “make it up”, I would make it perfectly clear that if something like this ever happens again, it would be cause to end our relationship.  “Making it up” would include ensuring this never happens again. It would also include an increased sensitivity to me and our relationship when it comes to interacting with other partners and to ensure every decision involving other partners is formed on a foundation of respect and honour toward me and the relationship we have built. In time, and with a consistent demonstration of this increased sensitivity to me and our relationship when it comes to interacting with other partners and ensure every decision involving other partners is formed on a foundation of respect and honour toward me and the relationship we have built.  In time, and with a consistent demonstration of this increased sensitivity, perhaps the hurt I felt from going through that situation can be healed. Lastly, not owning your shit when i called you on it was a further indication of how far up your ass your head was and oblivious to the transgression  you made that evening. This must also be included in the apology showing your understanding of how thoughtless you were.  This type of response is indicative of what needs to change with an increase in sensitivity to me and our relationship.

Thanks for that. I need some time and space to process this all. I’m not sure that I can get past this, and if I decided I can, what I need for that to happen.  I’m going to take the weekend to process this all. I’ll come to your place on Monday afternoon when i’m done at work and we can talk about all this.

Thank you.

So now, I think.  I process.  I figure out what action, if any, I have to take.

I’m so angry and so hurt and so fucking disappointed.  Yesterday, I was sure we were back on the right track and doing so well again.  Then, he pulls a potentially relationship-ending asshole move.  I’ve actually never had a boyfriend pull something so completely devastating.  I literally don’t know what to do with this situation. I’m used to small red flags that accumulate over time and lead to me finally coming to my senses.  But this is a huge red flag.  One that I would be stupid to ignore or fail to acknowledge.  I just don’t know if it’s too big or not.

We had a conversation a short time before this happened about the fact that I am not ready to share him with someone in the same room.  I was supposed to sleep over, she was supposed to join us for drinks.  Sure, we didn’t lay out boundaries specifically, but at no point was my consent asked for.  I feel so unimportant. Disposable. Unvalued. Used.  Taken for granted.  Insignificant. Disrespected.  I’m sure I could go on.  

The fact is, he fucked up. I don’t know if I can get past it. I don’t know what the long-term consequences of trying to get past something like this are.  Trust is such an important component of a relationship and I’m not sure it’s something that I can get back.  

I’ve talked to A LOT of people who love me today about this situation. Hoping that one would have that thing to say that told me it was OK to forgive.  Universally, they all told me they loved me and respected me and wanted me to stop hurting.  Some wouldn’t give their opinion except to say how badly O fucked up.  Those that did said I should break up with him.  One said I should *at least* scale back the relationship.  I feel like that would be causing a slow death instead of taking the quick death shot.  I don’t know. I really really really don’t know what to do.  I know I can forgive anything, I’m good at that, but I don’t know if I can forget. If I can’t forget, I may never actually get past this.  

Damn. My heart is broken.



A couple months ago, I decided it was time to change my OKC profile to looking for women.  Our threesome and subsequent foursome with U was the catalyst for this change.  I have always been attracted to women.  Who wouldn’t be?  We are soft and sensual and gentle and smell good and….well…..boobs!  I’ve never acted on it before. Part of this was the fact that I definitely like a man as a life partner, so monogamy dictated that a heteronormative relationship was the way to go for me.  The other dissuading factor is that I’m completely inexperienced with girl parts.  Sure, I know mine, but that’s 40 plus years of practice and the angle is all wrong for another woman.  The truth is, I know my way around a man.  Or, at least, I know how to explore his parts and identify the individual things that drive him wild.  It’s something I enjoy doing. I get off on it.  I want to be driving my man wild whenever we are together and love a man who directs me how to do so.  The idea of doing that same exploration with a woman is….intimidating.  Like I’m that teenage girl who didn’t know a cock actually had to go into my mouth when I give a blowjob.  I’ve got a few ideas of where to start, but no tried-and-true tricks that I can rely on like I do with men. Plus, men are easy to get off.  As a woman, I know that we are not quite as simple.  

To say that this process has brought a little anxiety would be accurate.  I really wasn’t feeling any pressure, more of a “let it happen” sort of attitude.  I chatted with a few women, but I learned that much like talking to men on dating sites, they are diverse in their ability to carry a conversation, especially electronically.  I like getting to know people electronically first and I’m a busy girl with a pretty full schedule, so communicating via text becomes essential when you date me. I love exchanging pictures and sexting and generally just maintaining the connection with my partners in between dates.  It keeps me grounded and is essential to my happiness.  So, when a person doesn’t communicate well off the hop, I get a little concerned.  

A couple weeks after I changed my OKC profile, a woman messaged me.  I will call her “S”, because I asked her what letter she wants, and this is what she asked for.  We hit it off immediately. She’d ask a tricky question, I’d give her an honest answer, and vice versa.  We realized we are really similar, but different in enough ways to make it interesting.  The connection was there immediately.  So then it became real and we scheduled a date. Then I got sick.  So we rescheduled, which with my schedule is a little silly.  We had our first date last week. It was lovely.  Non-stop conversation, laughing, connection, and fun. It was easy and comfortable. Yesterday, we had our second date. She came to my place and we chatted on the couch for hours, cuddled, and made out a bit.  She wasn’t put off by my children being colossal assholes. I admitted nerves to her and asked to take things slowly and she totally respected me.  I can’t wait to see her again.  So yeah.  I have a girlfriend. Life is pretty damn complete.

Now, to find some extra time in my schedule.