I am missing A, but even that sadness was curbed by a great phone call where we laughed and talked about all the silly things we talk about the other night.  I love talking to him more than anything else in our relationship. Our conversations are so random and funny and serious and authentic.  I love it.  

A while ago, we were talking about how poly and kinky dating is different for men and women.  I get a number of messages on OKC and occasionally on Fetlife, but the Fetlife ones are a little lower quality, in general.  I don’t include my kinky side in my description on OKC, because I find it invites people to assume things about me that aren’t true.  It’s like admitting I like sex is an invitation to proposition me.  So, what that means is that at some point in the conversation, I have to come out and tell the man I’m talking to that A and I are kinky.  I joke that I have a fool-proof method of getting a man to ghost me.  Some ask questions, some just disappear, occasionally I get a man who is also kinky, and sometimes he isn’t kinky himself but says it doesn’t matter to him.  This latter is a little problematic, because often, but not always, turns out that it does bother him.  I usually don’t find out until I’ve started a relationship and developed feelings for him, however.  There’s no getting past it though, I have to tell anyone I may get naked with about it, because I have bruises that I can’t generally hide, but the reality is that I’m not interested in omitting that part of my life when I tell people who I am.  I’m more of a “this is who I am, get over it” kind of girl, so I usually tell them earlier rather than later.

A made the point that he doesn’t have to tell girls that he and I are kinky.  He doesn’t have bruises to hide.  He also can say he’s dominant in the bedroom and it can be true whether bdsm is involved or not.  He has always taken control.  It’s just the way he is. The man owns the room he’s in, whether or not he has his clothes on.

I’m aware that my approach to relationships and sex isn’t the norm, so it’s not that strange that some men ghost me as soon as I tell them I’m kinky.  I don’t really want to help someone navigate some intense emotions about my other relationships and kinky nature, if I’m completely honest about it, but it does make me a little sad that it’s hard to find a vanilla guy who just accepts that I have itches I don’t need him to scratch.  Having kinky sex all the time isn’t really my style – my body can’t take that much abuse, no matter how much I like it.

When we were talking about this, I said that I had gone on Fetlife and messaged a few guys who fit some of my requirements. By requirements, I mean they had pictures of gorgeous large cocks and are dominant.  While this sounds….um….superficial….let’s just say that I have a lot of pictures of my naked body on Fet, so it’s not like they don’t know what I look like when they respond.  I can also add to excusing my behaviour by saying that if he took a picture of their cock and posted it, he knows he’s big, and is advertising it.  Also, he’s probably been ordered by a woman to keep it the hell away from her at some point, so someone like me who likes a big man is refreshing.  

What?!?  Stop judging. This is such a me thing to do. 🙂

OK, joking aside, I’ve chatted with a few men and have some hope that I may have a date or two as a result.  A and I were talking about my new predatory dating tactics, and how there is such a dichotomy in the way men and women can behave.  I came clean to a guy that the reason I messaged him was because he had a big dick, and he thought that was awesome.  No man could get away with saying that he messaged me because he likes my big boobs. (OK, well, I probably wouldn’t care, but he couldn’t say that to most women).  This brings me to the expectations that men and women have for each other.  How some behaviours are acceptable in women (like casually touching men without their prior consent) that aren’t at all acceptable in men.  I think about how it’s strange to people that I like a big beautiful cock, but no one is surprised when men love big beautiful boobs.  I hear all the time that I’m unique, the way I think about things is so open and refreshing, that my attitude is so positive, or how open-minded I am.  I am all of those things.  It’s just seems strange to me that most people aren’t.  I see no point in pretending to be someone I’m not or hiding who I am so someone will like me more.  

The thing is, I know what it’s like to be unfulfilled. To not want to tell others about my disappointment in our sex life or the needs I want fulfilled.  I actively decided not to be that person anymore.  I wonder how many of us go through life just ignoring the lack of sexual satisfaction?  Deny ourselves that pleasure by pretending it doesn’t exist, partially because of shame and partially because of fear?  Judging by the number of people who find my approach to life so unique, it’s the majority of our population.  

Now, imagine a world where we aren’t judged for our sexual preferences or relationship choices.  Where we can talk freely and openly about what we desire and we can reach out to those who may be able to provide fulfillment of those desires.  Imagine us talking about achieving sexual fulfillment in the same way we talk about eating our favourite meal and how much we enjoyed it, instead of being ashamed of what we do with our clothes off?  Imagine a world where our kids don’t grow up thinking they are bad for wanting to explore their sexuality.  Imagine a world where it is acceptable for our kids to come to us with questions about their sexuality and how to safely explore it and we weren’t worrying about whether or not they were offending society’s rules.  Imagine not having to hide.  Imagine a world where people are accepted for who they are.

That’s the world I want to live in.  The best part of it is that for the most part, the world I live in is moving in that direction. I have close friends who support me completely.  A and S both accept me as I am.  Hell, they completely support the way I am.  I talk to S about A and to A about S, and they both are full of compersion for me.  A has always been pretty easy going about my other partners, he’s never said anything, so I’m pretty sure that jealousy isn’t a thing he has felt when he thinks about my other relationships.  The only thing he ever said is that Fridays are his.  We rely on our routine for our own sanity in our crazy lives and Fridays are sacred to me, so it’s never been a problem.  He certainly hasn’t ever been jealous of S, but why would he?  Clearly he can’t offer me the same things that a woman could and he’s happy to see me happy.

S is the biggest breath of fresh air I’ve breathed in in ages, though.  She is so understanding about everything.  From my troubles with F, to challenges with my kids, to everything to do with my relationships, that girl is a rock.  I can talk to her about everything.  There are a number of times that I’ve told her a story about A and me and she says “I love A stories!  I love your relationship with him!”. Wait?!  Back the hell up!  I have a relationship with someone who not only accepts my relationship with A, but supports it wholeheartedly?  I’m keeping that woman around (for a million other reasons than just this, but damn, this makes me happy)!  There are so many reasons why S gets me.  She’s been poly for 17 years; she and her hubby have always been non-monogamous.  She’s kinky too, and in a super hot daddy/baby girl relationship with an experienced, amazing dom.  She’s a mom, she’s smart, she’s strong, she’s absolutely hilarious.  So when I talk to her about A being hard on me, she doesn’t cringe and look at my bruises like they are ugly, she thinks they’re hot and wants to hear exactly what he did to me.  She tells me about the scenes she has with her dom.  We can share in the hotness of the sex we each have when we’re not together.

There is something incredibly refreshing about being loved and appreciated for exactly who I am. In having people in my life who are so supportive of me, understanding of the struggles I’m facing, and completely accept my independence and listen to my needs and communicate so well with me, without trying to control me or influence my decisions.  These are the people, who when I say I trolled Fetlife for large beautiful cocks, just laugh and say “yeah you did”, because they understand that I’m not afraid of going for what I need and want, or letting shame get in the way of that.  I don’t want to live a life I regret, that’s for sure, and by being truly myself, I won’t.  




The other night, I had an amazing night with A. The best part for me was actually the chatting and reconnection before and the cuddling and closeness after sex.  I love that man so deeply and just appreciate the moments we have together so much.  We have an ongoing journey in kink that involves a whole lot of exploring and adventure. I was talking a while ago about how I’m so submissive in the bedroom but everywhere else we are equal and A said “Let’s be honest here, outside of the bedroom, you’re in charge!”  I laughed and said he was probably right, although I’m not sure he is.  I feel we have great communication, a deep respect for each other, and a healthy dose of sarcasm and teasing, but I don’t think either one of us is in charge.  I do a lot of the brainstorming for our sexual adventures though.  I think this makes a lot of sense, because the things I ask for aren’t exactly in the realm of convention.  Kink requires a lot of communication and since submission is my gift to give and to take away, it makes sense for me to ask for what I need rather than him to demand anything he wants. (Although, admittedly, I’d like to see him demand a little more.)  If he were the one with all the ideas, it would be easy to think that I was just being dragged along because of our dynamic. As it is now, it’s like I’m the one reading the map while he drives and expertly gets us to our end goal, often with a little side trip along the way to our destination.  

What this means is that everything we do is what I want to try. This has been a major strength in our relationship, because we have developed an immense trust and confidence in each other as we venture down the bdsm rabbit hole.  However, it means that I have the creative “burden” for our sexual adventures.  This really isn’t a huge deal, as I spend a lot of time thinking about sex, especially sex with A and making it even kinkier and sexier.  The man stimulates my imagination.  I was talking to S about her sexual adventures with her dom and realized that there were some things that I want that I believe A can provide that I probably need to ask for, and mostly, it’s about him taking control.  If I were to do that, this is how it would go:

Dear Sir,

For some time now we have had this amazing dynamic. I value it so much and everything you do for me is incredible.  When we aren’t together, I crave you – your touch, your kisses, the connection of our conversation, and the control you have over my body.  You know that all you need to do is touch me and my body responds.  You grab my collar or run your hands through my hair and my entire body becomes yours instantly.  I wear your collar.  It’s something that reminds me of you and what we have and, importantly, it is a symbol of my implicit consent. You have told me that having me initiate is part of your control over me.  That you know I want it if I’m begging for it.  The fact is, I always want you and I’ll always beg for you to do what you do to me.  

I don’t always want to though.  I want you to grab me, use me, and hurt me without me asking for you to do it. I want you to be hard on me. To hurt me.  I would like for you to be so hard on me that you test my boundaries thoroughly.  I would like you to scare me a little.  I am a willing submissive who knows how to use my words to ask for what I want and that extends to asking for what I don’t want, which means I know my safe words and I am not scared to use them if I need them.  

Please sir, use the collar for the symbol that it is.  When it’s on, I am yours to use as you wish.  I want you to ravage me.  I want you to do things to me I haven’t asked for. I want you to push my sexual boundaries and test me in all the ways that you want to push.  The fact is, the only boundaries I want pushed are the boundaries of my submission. You have, over the last year, earned my complete trust.  I know that you do what you do to me because you enjoy it, but also because you love me and respect me and want me to enjoy it too.  My boundaries are yours to test, please do so.

What this means is that when I’m squealing or saying “Stop, that hurts”, or “Ouch, sir, ouch”, I’m not stopping you.  Those are not safe words.  They are just sounds I make as you take me to that really great place, that place that is a green area for me. It hurts, but it hurts in the right way.  Sometimes, I’m in ecstasy as you flog me.  I’m lost in those moments. If I’m nonverbal, I’m entranced in how hot what you are doing to me is.  Please continue.  That is my blue, it’s hard for me to give feedback there.  I think you can tell by my body’s reactions that I am loving things though. If you need feedback, ask me if I remember my colours and where I’m at.  I’ll tell you.

When I’m squealing like that or squirming away, I love it when you command me to lay still in a certain position.  I would like it if you could increase those commands to include some verbal taunts and teases like “I know it hurts, my love”, or “You can take more, I know it, then I’ll reward you”, or “If you think this hurts, wait until you see what’s next.” It just gets me worked up!  Anticipation is a very hot form of foreplay for me, so psychological teasing will drive me crazy in the best possible way. This actually includes giving me orders and teasing me in anticipation of an upcoming date.  I also know that you are so good at reading me that you could verbally tease me into a state of ecstasy if you chose to and reward me and punish me how you like.  

Speaking of rewards and punishments, I am seriously impressed by your ability to tell when I’m about to orgasm and stopping at exactly the right wrong time.  I also really like it when you forbid me to cum and then force me to orgasm and then punish me for it.  I love it when you do things that overwhelm me.  Double penetration with toys, pulling me tight and slamming into me when I have a hard time accommodating your size so that I feel every inch of you, forcing me to cum over and over with the magic wand while biting me so that in between the orgasms, I’m squirming from BOTH pain and pleasure.

As I sit here rereading what I’ve written, I think about those days when I really can’t get enough. When I keep saying “More!”. How you call me greedy and insatiable and pretend like it’s a hardship to fuck someone who wants you so badly. This is just a long-winded way of me asking for more, sir.  I’m asking you to take more from me and in so doing, give me more in return.



This is how I ask for what I want. Through a long-winded explanation of how I feel. Normally, I do so privately, but I think it’s a good example of how I reason things out as I ask for what I want and explain why I want it.  It’s all in his hands now.  The reality is that if nothing changed, our intimacy would still be mind-blowing, but the only thing better than mind-blowing sex is even better mind-blowing sex, so asking for what I want is always the best thing to do.  


Natural boundaries

I’m in the middle of a busy week at work following an amazing weekend with A.  I have so much fun with that man.  Just chatting, watching movies, getting lost in internet and Youtube rabbit holes, and even doing some real life planning.  I left the weekend with all my emotional buckets filled, feeling like I can take on the world, my heartache left behind.  It was exactly what I needed, I suspect it was something he needed too, and I was able to start my week with renewed positivity and energy.  I’m so glad to have that man in my life.

Over the weekend, where we didn’t leave the house at all, the snow piled in my driveway and on my sidewalk and on his truck, and we got to sit down and have meals and sleep in and have naps and have sex whenever the idea struck, I also did a lot of thinking.  When I stepped away from normal life, I was able to separate out the many different aspects of my life that are going on.  It didn’t hurt that A’s special skills took me out of my head several times, allowing me the mental space I needed to tackle problems.  A and I talked a lot about how my other partners have felt about him (see my previous posts and our comments on it) and what I need going forward. A is always a little concerned when I don’t have another male partner. He, probably justifiably, is worried that he can’t be everything I need.  This has less to do with my sexual needs (although apparently I’m demanding), and more to do with my emotional, time, and connection needs.  More than anything, we have limited time together, so he isn’t the boyfriend who can go out for dinner with me, hang out with friends, or socialize in general.  It’s not that he can’t, it’s just that neither of us are willing to give up our precious hours together to be with other people. We both cherish our time where it’s just the two of us.

So, that got me thinking about what I want in another partner or if I even want one. The fact is, the person has to be nearly perfect for me to disrupt what I have with A and S.  The two of them together tick off so many of my boxes, and for what they don’t, I have excellent friends and exceptional vibrators (friends and vibrators used separately).  My life is pretty happily full and I don’t need much more other than the freedom to pursue what I want if the opportunity comes up. What I did realize though is that the person I do date needs to be already attached. Married or cohabitating is ideal. I don’t want to date another solo-poly individual, and I am not really interested in being someone else’s first poly partner.  The problem with unattached men is that there is no natural limit to how far we can escalate.  This means a lot more complication.  It’s not insurmountable, but with all the stresses going on in my life, I’m not really interested in having to put down hard and firm boundaries that are naturally there when I date someone who has a life partner.  At this point, I don’t want to escalate. I don’t want a partner who *could* live with me one day.  I don’t want to have to determine if he is with me just because I have a career and a house and have my shit together.  One of the things that a couple of my people have reminded me lately is that I am “a catch”.  I am strong, independent, career-driven with a great job, I own a house and car, I’m kind, generous, and fun, I have a lot of children (but some people like that!), and I’m a good parent.  They reminded me that I need to protect myself, communicate my boundaries clearly, and not let people violate them.  I want to know that I have someone who respects my commitments and my schedule and my right to my own life and the parts of it I don’t want to share.  Part of it is that I’ve now introduced two partners to my children as my boyfriends, they’ve become attached to them, and then those partners have disappeared from their lives.  I don’t need another one to come into their life and disappear again.  They don’t need any more loss and it’s reasonably simple for me to prevent their suffering in this case.

I was explaining this all to a monogamous, single coworker.  I said “So ideally, I’ll only date married men.”  It makes perfect sense in the context of my life, but in his, it sounds hilarious.


Walking on the inside

On Wednesday, A and I had a spontaneous evening where we reconnected.  I worked late and was a bit of a mess and asked him to come pick me up so I could collect a hug.  We ended up going for drinks.  It was amazing. So full of laughter and some deep conversation too.  To say that my life has experienced an ongoing state of upheaval and stress the last few weeks would probably be an accurate statement.  A is a stabilizing force in my life.  He grounds me.  He knows me well, so that means he can say the things that make me laugh, intentionally get a rise out of me, and calm me in a way very few people can.  

Our relationship is atypical.  After so many of my partners have had a hard time with it, I’ve spent some time thinking about why they don’t get it.  It makes perfect sense to me (and to A). So, atypical compared to other poly relationships?  I don’t know.  The fact is, we have great boundaries.  There’s not much about our relationship dynamic that we haven’t discussed and actively decided on together. We get each other.  He understands my life.  That dates are different when the kids are home than when they aren’t.  That I have a full-time job and a second job too.  That I’m going through a divorce and sometimes I’m going to go on crazy rants about the frustration of negotiations.  That I’m going to date others and I’ll tell him about it, but otherwise, he doesn’t have much say.  He actually really appreciates my other partners and has never uttered a jealous or judgemental word about any of them. He has supported me through recovering from heartbreak several times.  He has been my partner in so many new experiences.  From shooting guns, getting in a collision, visiting a new distillery, bondage, pain, orgasm control, group sex, and everything in between, we’ve been a team.  I think what people don’t realize is that we are really good friends.  We talk about nearly everything.  I value his opinion and he values mine.  Nearly every date begins with a couple hours of talking and reconnecting. So much of our attraction to each other is intellectual. I’ve never thought for a second that I was being judged or anything but loved and accepted when we talk.  I know he feels comfortable confiding in me and I’m his place of calm too.  I am the type who volunteers information. You never wonder where you stand with me.  A, he requires some prodding, but I’m the type to ask all the questions that pop into my mind, and he generally answers, if somewhat reluctantly.

It’s less often now that I am surprised by something A says or does.  Over drinks, were talking about how A, as a bit of a chameleon, scores differently on the Meyers-Briggs tests every time he takes one.  He can take the same test and get three different scores.  Having never taken a Meyers-Briggs test before, I suggested that I take one and he read me the questions.  It was so fun!  He guessed what my answer would be before I answered and for the most part, he was bang on.  Things like “Your life is always tidy and organized” – ***Strongly Disagree*** and “You are completely comfortable talking in front of a big group of people – ***Strongly Agree*** were pretty straightforward and obvious.  There weren’t many that were a shock about me, which is not surprising, because I’m rather transparent.  When he took the quiz, I was shocked by some of the more introverted tendencies that he had, but more in a “Oh right, you’re actually an introvert who pretends to be an extrovert” kind of way.  Part of the reason these things surprise me is that we almost always spend our time together one-on-one (sometimes literally! Har-har-har!), but also that I know that we are now close enough that I get a real version of A, without the walls that he maintains as part of his public and business persona. What surprised me most is how well he knows me.  Not so much that the information is there, but that he paid attention! 😉

When I was a teenager, I heard this story about how in the days prior to modern plumbing, men walked on the outside of a sidewalk and women on the inside so that when a chamber pot was dumped from the second floor balcony, the women wouldn’t be hit.  This also served the purpose of preventing women from getting hit by water or other grossness from the street when carriages passed.  

While I am a strong, independent, fiercely feminist woman, I love chivalry.  Over the year and three months I’ve known A, he has been chivalrous in his understated way.  He has passed many tests he didn’t know he was participating in.  The first was on our first date, when I reached for my purse to pay my share and he immediately put a stop to it and told me “On the first date, the man pays, put that away”.  The second time was when we went shooting a year ago as part of my “40 before 40” list, and when we walked out to his truck, he walked me to the passenger side and opened my door.  I remember commenting on it and giving him a kiss.  That night, we were in a collision with a moose.  When D came to pick us up, he immediately got in the back seat and let me climb in the front, completely respecting my love for D.  That was the third time.  

There have been hundreds more open truck doors. There have been drinks he’s poured for me and rides he’s given me.  There have been hugs he’s gone out of his way to give when he knows I need one.  I’ve made a lot of requests that he has fulfilled without complaint.  He’s listened to me, he’s held me, he’s hurt me in exactly the way I need, and he’s loved me despite the hot mess I sometimes am.  He has been what I need, nearly always.

We were walking away from the bar we were at, and I threaded my arm through his elbow as I tend to do and we reached for each other’s hands.  Then he stopped and said: “Get on the other side.” I said “Why?” and he said: “Because men walk on the outside, and women on the inside.”

I was flabbergasted (I love this word).  It’s been at least 24 years since I first heard the story of chivalry and where men and women should walk on the sidewalk.  I teach my children this lesson. First that adults should be on the outside and second that a man should be on the outside for my daughters.  My son will get this lesson when he’s old enough that him running into traffic isn’t my primary concern. I even talked to my girls about this in front of F, and he didn’t note it.  I have silently tested and judged everyone I’ve dated over the many years I have known about sidewalk placement while walking using this metric.  No one has ever said anything. Then A does this: He passes a test he didn’t know existed.

I mentioned earlier that we have a pretty great and detailed understanding of where we are in our relationship.  We know what we mean to each other and we are both happy with the parameters we’ve set.  We mean a lot to each other.  I have said for months, as a term of endearment (and a bit of an acknowledgement that we are where we are in our relationship and it’s not going to change), that he is an ***adequate*** boyfriend.  I joke that he has to be careful, if he is too good to me, he will be upgraded from adequate to satisfactory, and I’ll end up having unrealistic expectations of him.  

Truthfully, my expectations haven’t changed, but I love him that much more because he passed the uncommunicated test. Dating a true gentleman is amazing.   

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.  

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways!

O occasionally has some challenging feelings to deal with in regards to my relationship with A. Some time ago, we talked about how part of his reality is that I am totally in love with both A and O, and O is only in love with me.  It got me thinking about the things I love about my men.  A and O are very different, but my love for them isn’t. That gets me thinking about how and why I love each of them. Of course, the way I love is rather complete, the way I express it is the only thing that changes. This is applicable to my love of my partners as well as my children and my friends.  

I love O for so many reasons, I find it hard to articulate. I love him deeply, completely, and I plan to do so forever. He’s stormed into my life and turned it upside down and I love it, no matter how off balance I feel so much of the time, because I never expected this type of love or this type of relationship.  Truthfully, I didn’t know a man like O could exist. He frequently tells me I am the stuff of his fantasies and I can only respond that I didn’t even know to imagine someone like him. The fact is, it’s just RIGHT.  When we are together, we are alone and the rest of the world stops.  We connect on emotional, physical, and intellectual levels.  We are both PhD level educated, in very different fields – I’m in a STEM discipline, he is in fine arts.  It means we complement each other in the most interesting way.  I know nothing about his discipline and he knows nothing about mine, but when we talk, we know the process, we know the significance, we just understand each other.  The details aren’t important, because the understanding is there.  Physically our relationship is mind-blowing. I anticipate our next date with the enthusiasm of a 16-year-old boy!  He has oral skills that cause me to crack lame jokes about how fine arts students must develop different tongue muscles when they practice all the different accents and has his room mate complaining about warning him when I’m over so she doesn’t go into the garage under his bedroom.  He is open to experimenting, exploring, and widening our horizons.  He comes up with rather detailed and interesting itineraries for our nights and always delivers. He holds me in a way that makes me feel like the most valuable thing in the world.  He kisses me like there is nothing else in the world but him and me. I have an incredibly hard time not touching him whenever we are together.  We are magnets, attracted so strongly to each other.  He tells me I’m beautiful and sexy and desirable and all these things I’ve not ever heard and believed at the same time.  Emotionally, well, he drags out my vulnerable side.  He makes it easy to ask for what I need.  He just anticipates the things I need and does them.  He gets me gifts for no reason, and even more, writes me poems and just sends me notes of love. He holds me tight and tells me he loves me.  He appreciates my cooking, he arranges transport of a free antique piano to my home and then plays beautiful music on it while my kids play around him, and he hangs out with my kids so I can go to a kindergarten Christmas party. Honestly, I love him because he just is perfect for me.

I love A deeply and completely.  Intellectually, he challenges everything I know.  I’m an academic and he’s a business owner.  I learn so much from him about the way a business runs, about networking, accounting, negotiating, social interactions, and being successful in business.  I learn about his passions, his insecurities, and his strengths and the other strengths he has and the other ones of top of that. He’s amazing in his ability to hide his introvert side, his need for alone time, his love and concern for his family and friends, and just be able to do what he needs to do for his business and the support of his employees and also for his family and loved ones.  He is inspiring and he is interesting beyond measure. I am in awe of him and his ability to cope, thrive, and push past so many challenges and so much stress. Physically,the thought of our time together turns me on and I spend a great deal of time anticipating our next date. He does things for me that no one ever has.  He hurts me in a way that makes me gush.  He kisses me in a way that makes me lose myself in him.  He hugs me in a way that tells me he needs me as much as I need him and makes me feel protected and cherished.  He looks at me in a way that tells me how much he cares about me.  He always fulfills my desires, through the hurt he causes my body, the control he exerts on my movements, and the many many many more orgasms I have than he ever has himself.  Emotionally, I have certainty with A: I know he loves me; he knows I love him.  We know we want to be together and that we value each other immensely.  When we are together, it is just us.  We talk about our outside worlds, the details of his life and mine: our kids and partners and jobs and friends, but when we are together, we are TOGETHER.  We laugh and snuggle and chat about things that matter, and just connect.  Then when we have sex, I enter into subspace and am his toy who submits to his will and I get so much out of what he does to me and what doing it to me does for him. Afterwards, he holds me and makes me feel loved, protected, and valued.  

I have never loved one person as completely as I love each of them individually.  My life and my heart are exploding with love for two amazing men.  I know how lucky I am to have them and I’m incredibly grateful for the happiness and fulfillment that they have added to my already wonderful life.