Vulnerable about vulnerability

This last week was a bit crazy.  So much of A’s stress has resolved, he’s back to the basal level of stress he has as his “normal”, which is still a lot for most, but he’s an expert in dealing with things in the most amazing way. O and I had a rather challenging discussion last week after he reacted strongly to a spontaneous night A and I had and some of the dom/sub dynamics we enjoy and I then was way too hard on him.  What came from it was the most functional, understanding, and loving conflict resolution-type conversation I have ever had with a partner.  He was so….perfect.  About everything.  I was really hard on him.  I over-reacted.  I took our conversation of the previous day, where he warned me to be careful with A, and turned my feelings about that into an excuse to react badly about his feelings about A coming over spontaneously the previous night.  I was blunt and direct and not at all empathetic.  I wasn’t recognizing my triggers and I wasn’t recognizing his. I was not a good girlfriend.  He continued loving me anyway and we had a great talk about the whole thing that evening.  The conflict part of the conversation happened during the day, via text.  Text is, of course, the best way to fuck up your meaning, and this was truly the case. I felt he had questioned my judgement, he felt I had lied to him.  It was a storm of miscommunication and was completely avoidable.  When I sat on his couch with a glass of wine to talk it out, I knew, immediately, that it was going to be fine.  When we are together, we have a very hard time not touching each other.  So, legs wrapped together, holding hands, we broke down and broke through every detail that needed to be discussed.  It ended in us giving each other context, clarifying a few “guidelines” (I can’t think of a better term, but it’s just overarching themes of our relationship that we agree on), and most importantly, opening up the understanding of how our own personal baggage has influenced how we respond to each other, and how we recognize that what we have in each other is as amazing and as statistically improbably as winning the lottery, and how we both want to work to maintain what we have.  I left that conversation, completely emotionally exhausted, but completely reassured that I love him, he is as perfect for me as I thought, and that we are so incredibly good together, it’s amazing.

Part of what I told him was the full story of F and I and our journey in polyamory.  As I was explaining the critical occurrences, the things I did wrong, the things F did wrong, and everything in between, I had this crazy epiphany that I tied into my realization that I’m absolutely shit at asking for what I need. I’m really bad at being vulnerable.  Absolutely horrible, in fact.  Several of my partners have commented on how they don’t know I’m processing something I’m emotional working through until I all of a sudden come to them with a conclusion.  Then they have to catch up with the fact that I have been struggling with something and they had no idea.  I then have to describe the process I went through, the feelings I had, the hurt I experienced.  More than once I’ve heard: “But why didn’t you tell me you were having a hard time?”  Truthfully, I thought it was just how I am.  That I’m an internal processor and that I wasn’t hurting anyone.   I was proud of the exclamations from partners about how strong I am.  Truthfully, I was hurting myself first, and partners and those who love me second.  I was taking on loads that should be shared by the people who love me.  This is the case with O the other day, when I was upset with him about warning me about A, but didn’t communicate it with him.  This is the “event” that made me realize that I have some broken parts that need repairs.  

A few weeks ago, I asked A for some cuddles when I was going through a particularly difficult time. It was slightly easier for me to ask then, because I didn’t know what was wrong.  I just needed closeness and cuddles and to be held, and he obliged. He’s actually really good at just being what I need in the moment without making me explain.  I think he knows that I’ll eventually get to the explanation without being pushed.  I also think it’s just his way and the dynamic we set up this last year as I asked for diversions and distractions from him physically as I went through the emotional pain I wasn’t communicating.  The fact is, asking for cuddles was the first time in several years that I’ve asked someone to do something emotionally supportive for me, because I need it.  When I was talking to O about my story last week, I realized that there was a time when I was better at asking for what I need.  When I was OK with being vulnerable and didn’t feel like I needed to be strong and hide my pain from others.  I realized that that time was long in the past, before F and I were married and our dynamic changed from one of some sort of mutual support (I’m not sure it was ever completely healthy, but certainly healthier than where it ended up), to one where I supported him, and if I needed support, he had free license to turn it into something he needed support for.

Before I go on, I need to also address the fact that I remembered last weekend that F has PTSD.  He is in emergency services and has been for nearly 20 years.  I was talking with a friend and coworker at my second job who has been a huge mental health advocate for emergency services personnel in the last years.  As I chatted with her about her journey, my experiences being married to F came out.  I remembered the hurtful awful things he did.  The pain he felt. The fact that he was able to pretend he wasn’t chronically affected by his career choice when we went to Sweden and the stressors were removed, but that when we returned to Canada, the stressors reappeared and he spiralled into the oblivion that is PTSD.  She understood the trend for long-term emergency services workers to take their worst experiences out on their spouses. It reminded me that early in our relationship, and even as it progressed for the next 14 years, F frequently talked of divorce, alcoholism, or suicide as a given.  He seemed to think that losing his mental health was a predetermined certainty and that it would cost him everything that meant something to him.  As I told my story, she sympathized with me AND with F, and just shook her head and even cried at the fact that our story isn’t unusual.  This whole conversation reminded me that while the way that F treated me was unacceptable, it isn’t entirely him, so much as his mental illness, that is driving his behaviour.  That I, too, am a victim of the stress that is the career he chose.  It also made me ridiculously angry at the fact that he didn’t move into positions that would offer less stress (and more money) or access the amazing supports available to him when he had opportunities for the protection of our marriage and, even more, our children and families.  There were many of these opportunities, yet he focused on blame and the fact that I chose to work in a job I love in my chosen career rather than stay home with my children.  So, take any story of his inability to be a decent husband, and sometimes, a decent person, with a grain of salt. The man clearly has mental illness, and I don’t want to diminish from the fact that he actually has redeemable qualities that made him, at one point, long ago, an acceptable choice as a partner.

As I told O my story, I realized the gravity of the things I went through in the last year.  How any support from F came with a price.  How I needed, badly, someone who had my back in all of the horrible situations I found myself in.  I thought about how I asked F for support as I was encountering feelings with his relationship with W.  How I asked for time, connection, love, touch, and even a smile.  How I frequently asked for simple touches, like a hug or a kiss, and was denied.  How he frequently refused to sleep with me because I snore, wouldn’t touch me when I was struggling emotionally, demeaned me as useless when I wasn’t supporting him exactly how he wanted, though he didn’t communicate his needs, and how even when he was intimate with me, the whole episode was about his pleasure, his climax, and had so little to do with mine.  As I thought it through, as I recognized the damaged goods that I am, I could see how somewhere in the years that we had been together, F had become the person who I supported.  I became his strength and his support, but he wasn’t that for me.  (There’s a lot of irony here, because he had a hard time with the fact that I “didn’t need him anymore”, when we embraced polyamory.)  

Nothing is a more clear an example of his manipulation as when I was diagnosed with post-partum depression in 2015.  At that time, #4 was 3 months old. He had a few health scares early on.  When they were resolved, and I didn’t get better, I realized that I needed help that wasn’t going to come in the form of “giving it time” or “accepting my situation”.  So I made an appointment with my family physician and got a prescription for antidepressants.  Thirteen days later, I woke up, myself, for the first time in six years, realizing that this acute depression had been preceded by six years of a low level chronic depression.  The intervening thirteen days where I adjusted to my meds were some of the most difficult of my life. I was unable to get out of bed in the morning.  The antidepressant I’m on is a sedative and it takes some time to adjust.  I had a three month old baby, who, thankfully, was the best sleeper, and would wake a 8:30 a.m.  I would nurse him and hand him off to F.  F would get up with the children, feed and care for them, and put #4 down for a nap, who would wake up at around noon.  I would get up, feed him, and we would get going and spend the afternoon together. I was groggy and stressed and still very much depressed.  Just going through the motions of daily life was an enormous challenge.  During this whole time, I heard no end of complaints about how hard it was on F.  How he wasn’t getting a vacation, how I was “lazing” away the days while he worked so hard.  How he was suffering, and I wasn’t helping.  It went on and on. It was one long complaint.  After two weeks, I came out of my depression with a new lease on life. I realized how difficult our relationship had been for years and started tackling some of the issues that needed to be fixed.  I took control again.  

The reality of this is that every time I had an issue, every time I was vulnerable, my needs became a problem for F.  He turned my suffering into his.  I ended up supporting him through my stresses.  It was the very definition of unhealthy, having a partner who couldn’t actually see past the end of his nose to support me.  When I was talking to A about F, he said “I don’t understand him.  He’s clearly very selfish”, and I can’t help but agree with him.  Anything anyone in his life was going through became about him.  The kids being kids and being loud or demanding became them misbehaving and being hard on him after a night shift.  Me needing a break and time off for myself when I was home with kids alone for days at a time on his days off was me making things too hard for him, denying him a break.  Me needing him for anything was about him.  

What does this mean?  It means that every time, for 14 years, that I was at all vulnerable, I had a partner who not only didn’t support me, but required me to support him.  I did so, to the best of my ability, and he criticized me for it.  So somewhere along the journey, I stopped asking for support.  I stopped being vulnerable.  I stopped needing anyone but myself.  I turned completely inwards.  This is where A and O, the loves in my life, find me.  This is where my strong friends, like G, find me. Strong and independent to a fault.  Reluctant to share my truths with many.  Not asking for help, but wanting the support (and perhaps needing it) more than anyone can guess.  

Now, I have two men in my life who ACTUALLY want to help me work through my weaknesses.  I have friends who are unfailingly supportive.  But I don’t know how to ask for the help I need. No, that’s not true. I know HOW to ask, I don’t know how to feel safe asking for what I need.  I’m bad at vulnerability.  The fact that I’ve felt raw and vulnerable this week, while I process this truth of my inability to be good at vulnerability is the wildest irony in this situation.  The fact is, I have to unpack this fact, dissect it.  Understand the healthy parts, discard the unhealthy ones, and figure out how to function better for my own good.  For myself, but also for the people who I love and who love me.  I need to model good communication and self-care for my children and that comes with not always being the strong person and being vulnerable sometimes.  I need to be better.  I’m still being strong and fun and unapologetic, which is good.  Going forward, I need to be someone who is strong and fun and unapologetic who is really, truly all of those things because I have the support of those I love and the strength to show them the vulnerable, feeling, hurting, emotional side of me too.  Understanding what led me here is a huge revelation.  Unpacking it will take time.  Thankfully, I have people who will encourage me to do the things I need for myself, including being there when I am vulnerable and ask for the support I need.

One of the many things I love about O is that he asks me what I need.  What I want from our date or what I want him to communicate or if I need anything specific in any situation.  Just by being himself, he is pulling my needs from me and making it normal for me to ask for what I need.  This game changer seems to be just naturally changing my game.   

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Dickhead

I keep starting a version of this post and either falling asleep or getting distracted with one of my million other priorities.  The thing is, life is so good, that it’s kind of difficult to write about.  It kind of seems like “Here’s my charmed life and it’s awesomeness, care if I rub your nose in it right now?”  But then I got thinking today, thanks to Facebook memories.

This coming Friday is one year since my first date with D.  He hasn’t shown up at the last couple events that we should have run into each other at, so either he has shit going on, or he’s avoiding me.  I guess it’s possible that I made it that awkward, but I like to think that I couldn’t have that big of an effect on him.  Realistically speaking, it doesn’t matter to me.  I’m so caught up in my relationships with A and O, that I haven’t thought about D at all apart from a “Huh, too bad he’s not here, he’s missing out”.  So when my Facebook memories popped up yesterday with a “Congratulations on one year of Friendship” video (yes, we were Facebook friends before we met in person), I was shocked to see him, and then shocked that I hadn’t thought about him in so long.  

When I was trying to pick a letter for O for this blog, I gave him a choice of letter, his first name starts with a “D”, so it makes sense that he would be D, but since it was taken, this wasn’t an option.  We settled on “O”, and that was it. Truthfully, D has come to mean more than the name I referred to D as in my blog.  When I first asked F for a trial separation, D sent me this song:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=suaveqvlWP8

I love this song.  The Dickhead theme kept me going through some of the harder days of my breakup with F.  It’s why D sent it to me.  Something to make me laugh about all the crazy stupidity that was going on in my personal life.  There were days when I listened to it on repeat.  I may have once turned it on full volume when F was talking to me about something and treating me inappropriately. I left it in my YouTube playlist and it continued to come up from time to time.  Now, the song no longer makes me think of F, although “Dickhead” can be a very good name to sum up who he is.  But every time it comes on, it reminds me of D.  It turns out that D no longer is as simple as a letter to maintain anonymity.  I guess it stopped being just that soon after I fell for him.  D, someone I was once Devoted to, someone I Desired, and someone I thought was part of my Destiny, turned out to be a Disappointment, a Deplorable communicator, and a DICKHEAD!  

It’s childish. It’s funny.  It’s apt.  It’s true.

 

Freedom and love: G gives me perspective

Life is still incredibly amazing. I’ve made so many good decisions for myself in recent months, and my happiness is the reward for each individual success.  Tonight, G came over for dinner.  She is so great at communication that she came over a few weeks ago to ask for a little more time and connection with me.  Instead of doing things, she needed to connect – have substantial conversations and just be with me.  There are few things in this world that I appreciate more than people I love who communicate well, and this is true in this case also.  It’s so easy to give the people you love what they need when they ask you for exactly what that thing is.  Well, this evening was full of connection.  We cuddled and chatted and had supper and just laughed and talked and, well, were.  We just were.

So much happened in my life in the last week that there was a lot to catch her up on. With O, who has taken my life by storm and with A, who has been a bit of a storm of his own this week.  Talking about her world and its developments and a healthy dose of sex talk and sex toy conversations. It was wonderful!

Among the things that came up was how she never asks for help from others.  That several of the people in life are rarely aware that she is struggling until she fills them in later after she’s done processing. That is so familiar to me.  In fact, it sort of hit home when she said that, because she was the only person for months who knew that I was still hurting about D. That when I saw him it was like getting hit in the chest with a bazooka (no, this has not actually happened to me, it’s what I imagine getting hit in the chest with a bazooka would feel like).  I mentioned that to her and we talked through a few points to do with him.

Specifically, I realized that while I had been honest with myself when I saw him about still loving him, I had only been honest with G about what I was still feeling.  Even then I wasn’t completely clear with her.  Then a few things happened.  It was pointed out to me in conversation with someone who has never said a bad thing about D before that he is a total asshole.  I immediately proceeded to defend him and was stopped.  Simply put, he said: “Anyone who did to you what he did, in the way he did it, is an asshole.  There’s nothing to discuss there.”  This truth hit me hard.  It also happened only a few days after I had drunk texted D.  Now, my drunk text wasn’t particularly bad.  I wasn’t proclaiming everlasting love or pining for him.  I was just thinking about him and reached out.  I was drunk, so it wasn’t the most coherent ending, and the next morning, I apologized, said my train of thought clearly derailed and exploded, and explained that I wanted nothing from him but would like to be friends.  It was kind, apologetic, and I was a little vulnerable in it all.  He never responded.  

It’s funny to me that this seemingly small, insignificant event, one that I laughed off nearly immediately, was the final nail in the coffin of my affection for D.  In the end, I realized how little compassion and understanding he truly feels for others.  I realized how selfish and uncommunicative he was.  How he didn’t respect me enough to just say “hey, no thanks” to an offer of meeting for lunch.  

I was explaining all this to G today, and I said: “I could forgive him for dumping me the way he did.”  For not communicating when I had questions or offering an explanation or honouring what we shared.  But when he showed so little compassion for me when I asked directly for a response, I couldn’t hide behind the excuse that it was a one time thing.  All that time I spent thinking he was true to himself and did what he felt he needed to do to be happy meant I didn’t realize that he actually is just an uncompassionate, selfish, broken person.  This isn’t easy for me to write.  I write it, and despite months of  being apart, my go-to is to defend him. To focus on those amazing times before he broke up with me.  To forget that he hurt me worse than any man ever has.  

But G said several somethings tonight that hit me right where I needed to be smacked.  The first thing she said was that she couldn’t believe I could forgive him, because she hadn’t.  She said she is still every bit as angry at him as she was on day one because the way he acted was inappropriate and he hurt someone she loved.  She said she is pretty sure it was my divorce that was too much for him, which was too bad.  I said that the unfortunate part is that if he had just hung out and waited it out, only a couple months later, I was, by far, the best version of me I had ever been.  I pointed out that the people who waded through that dark time with me were now the people who were receiving the best version of me they possibly could.  That I am the best me in every part of my life now.  That people like A stuck it out and supported me and were everything I needed them to be.  He was exactly what I needed him to be on so many nights where I was done with everything in my world and I needed him to make me forget it all.  I remember saying to him that I needed to not talk about my hurt or anger, that I needed him to overwhelm me with sensation and make me forget anything and everything but what was going on in the moment.  I remember saying a version of that for weeks (months?) in a row.  I know that he never once failed to do so.  He helped me forget.  He helped me numb myself.  He helped me heal.  He helped me become the me I am now.  Not because he supported me (which he did) or that he put up with my crazy (which he did), but because he LET me hurt and be and process and ask for what I needed and take charge and just held on for the ride. He didn’t demand anything of me and never tried to save me and he was exactly what I needed him to be because he let me be the strong independent person I am and the weak person who needed to heal at the same time.

What she said, that hit me like a ton of bricks straight to the head, was: “Did it occur to you that what you got was the best version of D, and that he wasn’t good enough for you?”  Wait!!! What???  The idea that the best version of him wasn’t the wonderful times, but the man who broke up with me via email with no reason and then cut off all communication with me wasn’t what I was expecting, but when it hit, it hit hard and stuck there.  She’s absolutely right.  

As my best friend, soul sister, and a person I love unconditionally, G has my heart in her hands. She knows me well, she loves me deeply, and she isn’t scared to verbalize the hard truths.  Today, she said something that threw me for a loop.  She said that the people in my world who love me and attach to me thrive off my love of life, my energy, and my enthusiasm. That when I am down, or going through a dark period, like this summer after D dumped me, and I had to process all the hurt of the previous six months,  they can’t feed off my energy, and it’s hard for them. Some people, who want and can give that love and energy back to me when I’m not able to give myself, stick by me, support me, and love me.  Others, who just want to take, well, they leave, killing off a bit of that part of me that gives.  Fortunately, that giving part of me regenerates once I evict those people from my heart.  I’ve just completed that regeneration.  It’s amazingly liberating.  When I talked to A about this the other day, he made the point that I’m finally at that point where I can love in a way that isn’t limited due to hurt.  That I’m free again.  I think my NRE with O is a true expression of that new-found freedom and space in my heart, freed by my finally letting go of D. Freedom and love: basic human rights, at least in my world.

Part 2: When A tells his story about the night we met and I start thinking

So, in addition to the foursome post, something came out from A last night that I need to write out.   I wrote the other day about our first date and how weird it was.  We were telling the story to U and Z last night and he added that he got from me the impression that he wasn’t supposed to kiss me when he walked me to the car that night and he was right, I was pretty sure we wouldn’t have a second date about half way through the evening when my daughter’s name brought up his biggest hurt.  I remember that good-bye like it was yesterday.  I really liked A.  We had amazing connection and fantastic conversation.  I remember hugging him good-bye (and running my hand down his arm, through his hand, and letting go at the last minute) and being sad that I probably wouldn’t see him again, but knowing that we didn’t have that instant romantic/sexual attraction.  I drove home that night thinking about how weird it was that we could have this fantastic connection that for so many reasons we couldn’t pursue.  I was elated to have a great date and sad that the date wasn’t going anywhere at the same time.

So, A told (part of) his side of the story last night.  (Hey A!  Want to write out your version of what happened for me?)  The side of the story I’ve never really heard.  He said that after our date, he talked to his wife about it, his wife talked to D’s wife, and D’s wife explained what a hard time D was having with finding a partner.  A decided that between my clear “don’t kiss me” message (this cracks me up now, because I frequently have to beg for a ‘proper’ kiss) and the fact that D and I were talking and D was *really* interested in me at that time, that he would step back, despite the connection.  

This is where I haven’t entirely got his version of the story, because I frequently get distracted when we talk (truthfully, I jump from topic to topic with everyone, this is the only place I ever stay on topic, which is probably why A likes reading it, because he actually gets a coherent portrayal of my emotions and thought process), but I can only assume that he sent me that rejection letter because he is truly that respectful of women and feels that people deserve closure.  Part of me thinks (hopes?) that he was a little more interested in me and kept thinking about our awesome connection and conversation for those two weeks and wanted to extend a “safe” olive branch.  The other part of me thinks that when we decided to be friends and had our night out as friends, we were both ourselves in a more genuine way, and the connection was obvious, and that the day we had sex for the first time was just a natural progression after we spent so many hours confirming our connection and attraction.  (This makes me think of our messages to each other in the interim.  I guess if I think about it, they were actually rife with innuendo….)

The attraction itself probably needs to be addressed.  A is a very good looking man, but really that doesn’t matter that much to me.  What he is that matters is smart, confident, sure of himself, unapologetically himself, and just a little bit cocky.  Behind all that, it was obvious to me, thanks to our ridiculous first date, he is kind, sensitive, and loving.  He is genuine and caring.  He is one of those rare men that isn’t scared to take control, but in doing so he will care for everyone. I have learned in these nine months that he also always owns his shit.  He takes responsibility for his actions. He apologizes when he fucks up and he also stands his ground when he needs to.  These are two qualities I have learned that I absolutely need in a man.  

Perhaps his process of attraction was different.  I’m not everyone’s cup of tea.  I’m a beautiful person.  But I’m not society’s version of beautiful. My attractiveness comes from my strength, my intelligence, my determination, and my ability to communicate what I need and want from people in my life.  I am a perpetual optimist, I’m an amazing friend, I’m extremely kind and loving, I’m very good at my profession, I’m completely committed, loyal, and devoted to those I love, I’m strong beyond measure, and I’m caring to a fault.  I’m also a bit cocky, a bit smug, a bit judgmental, and a bit intimidating to many.  I’m also very open and loving and extremely and unabashedly sexual!  But my face, especially my eyes, reveal everything I feel.  I’m an open book to people like A, who specialize in reading people, so maybe that’s where his attraction to me begins and ends – he just knows me.  

The reality is, we have our story – a story that is strange and wonderful and ridiculous and difficult to define.  But none of that really matters.  No matter what we call it, we are committed to these adventures together, supporting each other along the way..

 

Part 1: When the hot foursome outdoes the hot threesome!

My life just keeps getting more and more interesting.  After U showed her hubby (who I’ll call “Z”), the videos taken of our super hot threesome, he messaged me telling me that my blow job face was sultry and asking if we’d be interested in a foursome.  What followed was a week of flirting over messenger and planning for a date last night.  We started a group chat and talked about rules and desires and everything in between.  It was pretty great actually and I spent the entire week turned on and anticipating what was coming this weekend.

I worked a night shift Friday night at my second job, slept Saturday away, and woke up mid-afternoon with nothing but anticipation of the night to come on my mind.  I knew that many of my fantasies were going to be fulfilled, but I was a little nervous about sex with a new partner.  I was especially nervous knowing that Z is also a dom, he’s U’s dom, and that in our foursome, U and I would be the submissives of both A and Z.  I have a complete and total trust for A, we’ve ventured down the rabbit hole together and he knows me so well.  But Z?  Z was a complete unknown to me.  What if he was too aggressive? What if he was too demeaning? (One of my soft limits – I don’t deal well with humiliation and demeaning).  What if everything got awkward, and all the hot of the previous weekend disappears?

Well, it was equally as comfortable as the threesome was.  We got there early enough that we had time for some drinks in their kitchen while we were waiting for kids to fall asleep, and joked and laughed and it was clear pretty quickly that A and Z would get along just fine, and as Z brushed past me in the kitchen, he spent longer and longer rubbing against me until he reached up my skirt and I started rubbing the front of his jeans.  U and I joked last weekend that we both stopped and put our hair up (I get the BEST ‘just got fucked’ hair, and sometimes it’s a little ridiculous,  so I started making sure I had a hair tie handy, and apparently she does too!), before anything happened with A.  So, to start things, she said “Is it time to put our hair up yet?”  I have no doubt that this is going to be our code phrase moving forward!

We moved to the bedroom and things just escalated.  Watching A tie up U while Z established his dominance over me was hot as fuck.  A and Z spitroasting me while U was tied up and forced to watch?  Amazing.  Sucking off A while U licked me and Z fucked her?  Unbelievable.  There were so many fantasies that were realized last night that I may have to come up with whole new ones!  It was incredible.  There were three highlights of the night for me.  The first was having a man fucking me while the other fucked my face.  The second was giving Z head while U was giving A head.  I worked Z well, because he had amazingly easy to read reactions, so I knew when he was getting close and could slow down and delay things (Edging is fun!).  I looked up once, saw Z watching me and that just made me hotter.  Then I looked over at A, and realized that he was watching me.  We caught each other’s eyes and I smiled with my mouth full of cock.  I realized that while I was pleasuring Z, I was also entertaining A.  Basically, he was watching live porn while getting sucked off.  A and I made eye contact at least three times during those simultaneous blow jobs.  Each time I felt like we were connected though apart. I love finishing a guy off and I finally let Z cum in my mouth.  As soon as I finished him off, I moved over to help U with A.  A loves two women sucking his cock, and I love to oblige his fantasies and turn him on as much as possible. He didn’t cum, but it was safe to say he enjoyed himself immensely.

We ended up cuddling and chatting, me with A and U and Z.  All together, but our separate couple units.  A checked in with me, making sure I was OK, holding me, and making me feel safe and loved and secure.  I asked him to take me home and continue what we started there and he obliged.  

On the way home, we debriefed a bit. Both of us were happy with how things went, although A would have like to fuck U and I would have liked to have Z fuck me.  We discussed the parameters where we would do it again and how we felt about everything.  We laughed about how the adventure of our relationship has developed and once again about how A sent me a rejection letter once. (More on this in part 2!)

The third favourite thing of the night was being alone in my bed with A.  Getting him all to myself.  Sucking him hard and then having him fuck me hard and use me as he wished.  Then him rolling off of me and challenging me to finish him off.  I did.  We took hot pictures.  And when he came, my normal very quiet boyfriend made the sexiest sounds ever, and filled my mouth with the largest load I’ve ever swallowed.

Where do we go from here?  We do it again.  We have another date set for the four of us in a couple weeks.  I’ve wanted more of what A offers me in the bedroom for quite a while.  The fact is that I have started to crave the control he has over me.  I have started to need submission and find it hard to go a whole week in between.  I find that my vanilla partners, while amazing in their own right, can’t do everything for me sexually that I need.  I’ve wanted a second dom for a while, to bridge the gap between times I see A.  (Truly, I want another date with A every week, but he doesn’t have the time to give me.)  So, I messaged U today and asked her if they would be interested in playing with me alone when A was unavailable.  The response?  “Totally!”  So, it looks like I’ll be a unicorn in my own right starting in the near future.  I’m not sure where we will take this. Will it be an awesome sexy FWB situation where we are just great friends that fuck?  Will we end up dating? Will we be dating as a couple or will I be dating them and bring my A in whenever I can?  I don’t know.  I’m not sure I care.  I’m so happy to have amazing friends like U, who can be my best friend who I can fuck and talk about kids with and talk about sex with and talk about other partners with and talk about feelings with and it’s never weird.  I already love her, what happens next doesn’t scare me at all.  I’m still unable to do casual sex, but it turns out that I’m able to blur the line between friendship and sex just a little!

That time I say not much has happened then write about all the things that happened

It’s been a while. I’m sure things have happened. Feelings had.  Life lived. Nothing crazy or mind blowing (well, except my sex life, but you can just be jealous about that) or hard (well except for….kidding!) or awful.  Let’s see what I can dredge up, seeing as how A is going to start nagging me about not maintaining my blog for my 3 followers.

I got tired of dating.  Or really, I got tired of all the time that was going into online dating.  All the time getting to know a guy, the messages back and forth, the seeming connection, and then we meet and there was NO spark. Like nothing. So I deactivated my OKC profile and decided to be open to new opportunities and not actively look. In an ideal world, I’d have 2 more guys to date, but I’m really happy with the two I have.

The day after this decision was made, I got a Facebook message from a guy I met a few months ago.  I was still with D at the time, I think it was right after I asked for a divorce from F. When I saw him, my jaw dropped. The man is gorgeous.  I’ve met a lot of hot men through the years, and I didn’t really expect much out of him, so when he was smart and kind and genuinely funny, I was a little shocked.  I suppose there is a lot of privilege and bias in my initial assumptions that need to be addressed. I thought that just because he was hot, he wouldn’t be nice or smart.  Wow, don’t I look like an over-educated, average looking, judgmental ass. Nothing could be more obvious about my misunderstanding than the way we started talking. He had sent out a “You are awesome” video to pretty much everyone on his friends list.  He said his phone was blowing up, and usually it’s quiet.  I was shocked that his phone was ever quiet, I told him, because he is so hot and charismatic and nice, I thought he would be fighting off the ladies.  He laughed and said he thought I was hot too.  I joked that we should talk about that fact some time, and he said I had nice moves.  Yep, that’s me, unintentionally getting a date with a man I’ve been lusting after from afar without knowing he was available for months.  This girl has game she didn’t know she had.

We’ve been chatting a lot via text and it’s nice.  He’s sweet and kind and smart and lovely.  We had a date last week, and it was amazing.  Tomorrow, he’s coming for an overnight date.  Anticipation for this date is killing me.


I had a bit of an epiphany about A and myself and my expectations.  Specifically, I realized that he is not the problem, I am.  Or rather, my expectations are.  He’s never been anything but honest with me, although he could really use an improvement in his communication, because honesty is much better received when it’s timely instead of nagged for.  I realized that normally I have no issues.  We do our once or twice a week thing, we connect, we pretty much are alone in the world when we’re together, but there’s not much more to it.  We chat a bit, are there for support, but our world exists 95% in the context of the short amount of time we spend together each week.

I realized that after I hadn’t seen him for three weeks, and I really missed him and wanted to see him, I wasn’t as much of a priority to him as he is to me.  This realization hurt.  I wanted him to care about me in the same way I care about him.  I wanted him to want to be with me when he hasn’t seen me in a while.  I wanted him to miss me like I miss him when he’s gone. But the reality is that I had to accept that that is not the case.  

G is my go-to person when I need to figure out what I’m missing.  She asks the right questions and she gives the right feedback.  She acknowledges my feelings without sugarcoating or placating. I love that woman.  I talk to her about every emotion I have before I make any decisions.  I’m so glad I have her.  Here is what she said:

“I get why it hurts that his life comes before (ergo you’re not really a major part of his life, are you? And I can read how much it breaks your heart that you aren’t)  I get how hurt and heartbroken and lonely it makes you that you need more emotionally than he can give.  He’s an unabashed third stringer love.  Hoping and expecting him to be a first stringer is going to break your heart, break you up, and isn’t fair to him or you.  He is only capable of a casual dating relationship. No more, no less.  That doesn’t make him wrong for only wanting that.  And it doesn’t make you wrong for wanting more. My question to you is why does that more have to be with your relationship with A?  Is there any chance you’re comparing his abilities to D?”

My friend, my soul sister, talked me off the ledge.  She reminded me to think about the whys of the whole situation.  She reminded me that I was searching for something that wasn’t there while ignoring the amazing I did have.  She reminded me that expecting more was futile.  She also reminded me that what we have can still work for me, but it’s my attitude that needs to change.

I understand where my feelings are coming from and why.  I know how to mitigate it through communication.  I know how to work through it by really processing the why of how I’m feeling before I react.  I’ve had a few more rounds of visceral feelings to various things in the last week, and it’s been easy to put my relationship with A back into context.  In fact, he started talking about me getting another boyfriend so he could go back to his role as “number 3” and I just started laughing and told him I was astounded by how romantic he was and that he really knows how to make a woman feel special.  Friday as he was leaving, I told him he was a “perfectly adequate third string boyfriend”.  We’ve fallen back into that comfortable routine where we are both busy and are able to live our lives and catch up when we’re together, with no pressure.  Uncomplicatedly complicated.


In other news, I’m in love with L.  He’s sweet and kind and fun and lovely to be with.  I’m happy he’s in my life and I’m enjoying every minute I spend with him.  The future is bright there and we both know it.  I had a gathering the other day and several of my friends met him.  One of them said: “L is such a dork and I love him!”  He is. He is the best kind of dork.  I love him for just being such an amazing person, the person he is.


I have seen D quite regularly in the past months, just being at the same events.  It’s fun to chat with him and his wife and to see that he’s doing well.  I’d be lying if I didn’t say I still want him, I have reconciled myself to the fact that I always will, but it doesn’t hurt to see him as a friend.  In fact, I think it’s pretty great that we can get along and I really like that he’s still in my life.  I don’t pine away or silently hope he’s hurting too or want anything more.  I just am aware that if he came to me tomorrow and said “Can we try again?”, I would.  This is never more true than when I hug him and smell his beard oil.  It’s a crazy Pavlovian response that I have every time.  The scientist in me understands it completely: the ex-girlfriend in me who knows what it’s like to be covered in that scent after hours or even days in bed together connects that smell to more wonderful things.  In the end, this is all just amusing to me.  

As I thought about this today, editing it for the third or fourth time, I realized that I’m not sure I would take D back.  Honestly, I want what we HAD back.  The thing is, he broke my heart by leaving my life during one of the most difficult periods I’d ever gone through.  He left me when I needed love and support most.  I’m not sure I would actually be able to jump fully back in.  Being friends is exactly what we should be.


Otherwise, life is moving forward. I’m crazy busy, happy, and fulfilled.  I have good days and bad, full of connection and full of sadness, full of joy and full of boredom.  My life is awesome, my life is authentic, and my life is so much easier now that I’ve made so many good decisions for myself and my kids.

 

A poly year

A year ago, I went to bed, happy and fulfilled in my life, at least I thought.  I had a crazy dream that night.  A dream about X that was anything but platonic. That dream prompted me to message X when I got to work the next morning.  And the rest is history, as they say.  He introduced me to polyamory, and changed my entire life.

I’ve been poly for a year.  I’ve never been so certain about a decision in my life.  I am polyamorous.  I have had the most amazing year.  I fell in love with X and felt the intensity of our connection and loved him so completely.  Then it ended.  I met A, and we had the weirdest first date ever, with our bizarre coincidences and crazy connection.  We friend-zoned and were both happy to do so.  I met B, who was a romantic interest in my life for a short time, but has been a steadfast friend as I navigate my divorce and my dating life.  Then I started dating D.  I fell so madly in love with him, in the most intense and amazing way possible.  I had months of a near perfect relationship with him. It ended, in an absolutely awful way, but it doesn’t change how amazing the relationship was.  In the meantime, I unintentionally started the incredible relationship I have with A.  We embarked on an adventure exploring BDSM together.  We supported each other through some pretty shitty times.  We turned to each other when the rest of the world was railing against us.  We just became who we are together as a couple, while being who we are as individuals.  We figured out what worked for us.  I met L.  We are still working on creating what we want in our relationship together.  Committed and cooperative and happy and moving forward together.  

My marriage disintegrated.  It was awful and conflict-filled and I held on too long. Then I stood up, hopped off the roller coaster, advocated for myself, and moved forward.  We are working together to co-parent the most amazing four kids in the world.  We have moved forward as adults and our separation is negotiated.  I hope that moving forward we’ll work together instead of apart.

I dated.  I had coffee dates and dinner dates and drink dates and lunch dates and breakfast dates, and I had first kisses that rocked my world and second dates that ended in disappointment.  I had horrible dates and hopeful dates and disappointing dates and a wife messaging me to tell me I had a liar date.  

Outside of the poly part of me, I had three grandparents die.  My dad was diagnosed with cancer.  My sister cut me out of her life in a hail of fire.  I lost friends, met new friends, and connected more strongly with others.

I told many people about being polyamorous.  All but my sister reacted positively.  Nearly all embraced me and my chosen lifestyle completely, asking relevant questions and supporting my choice.  Most importantly, my mom supports me and my kids support me.  I have told so many people now that I’m almost “out”.  Not yet.  But one day, I will be.  In particular, I came out to G and to my person at work.  I made the strongest connections with two women who will always have my back.  They are better than having a sister.

I loved.  I loved men like I’ve never loved before.  My relationship with D only need serve as an example.  I’ve never loved someone who wasn’t blood so unconditionally.  My love for A is unique too.  It’s the first time I’ve submitted to a man worthy of my submission.  He’s earned a special respect and love from me. That’s something bigger than I can explain in words.  The fact that he doesn’t really ‘get it’ makes it even more important and a little funny too.  These loves taught me about the type of love I should have.  The type of love I want and the type of love I deserve and the type of love that I shouldn’t accept.  Through loving these men and the understanding of what it meant, I loved myself again.  I chose to stop sacrificing my happiness.  I expected more. I demanded more.  I became more.  I became a better woman, a better mom, a better partner, a better person.  I stood up for myself.  I supported the people I love.  I became who I’ve always wanted to be.  

I cried.  I hurt.  I raged.  I cried some more.  I have never felt so broken.  I have never felt so confused, hurt, rejected, unloved.  I cried as I shed my old me and the new me became.

Today, a year later, I’m happy. Truly, completely, thoroughly, uncomplicatedly happy.  My life is full of everything I could possibly want.  The most amazing kids, parents who love and support me, friends who accept me unconditionally, partners who accept me for who I am, two fulfilling, challenging, and stimulating jobs, and so much of everything I could ever need.

Happiness came in a form I never expected, because I had a dream.