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.  




Yesterday I wrote about the fact that it was date night with A and I was in need of some bucket filling. The fact is, I get a lot out of our Friday dates. We catch up on what happened during the week while we were apart, more of the nuance of what happened that can’t be easily conveyed via text, and there’s always a lot of teasing, laughter, and connection.  

Yesterday, in response to my post, A commented that he didn’t know what version of him I was going to get. This was my first indication that something was “off” with him.  We had a quick text chat about what was going on in his head and he legitimately didn’t know what was wrong, just that something was.  He arrived at my house at 8:37.  He greeted me with a passionate kiss and a strong hug.  I expected that we would at least chat for a while, but I have video of him snoring at 9:08.  In under 30 minutes, he’d passed out next to me.  

I knew he needed to cuddle and connect.  He grabbed me in a way he rarely does, hand through my hair, head to chest, arm held tightly against his chest.  I could tell he was breathing me in and calming himself.  I could feel the weight of whatever was breaking his heart exuding from him.  At one point, it seemed like he was going to start something more than cuddling, but the next thing I knew, he was snoring.  Deeply unsatisfied, I knew what type of week he had so I let him sleep.  I rolled over and texted S, and we chatted about how disappointed I was with the snoring man next to me. I even videoed him sleeping to show her what I was living through.  

I was so disappointed and a little mad.  I had spent the week anticipating this date and had no real tangible indication that it was going to go like it did.  I talked to S about how I was feeling. She validated my feelings and the best being: “A! GET IT TOGETHER AND BEAT MY GIRLFRIEND!”  While I was chatting with her, I said that I felt bad that I was so disappointed.  That I was near tears because I was so unfulfilled in that moment.  I felt like what every man I turned down over the years must feel like, I said.  Her words were exactly what I needed to hear and the message was simple:  There is nothing wrong with disappointment. It’s an appropriate response to not having the evening I so needed.  It’s OK for me to upset, and even angry, about this situation and still love him and support him and want to be there for him.  So, I grabbed my magic wand and three minutes later I had orgasmed hard enough that I could fall asleep.  It was an unusually early Friday night for me.  

It’s now early Saturday morning, and I’m sitting at my second job, feeling the disappointment from last night rather acutely.  Fortunately, when my alarm went off this morning, it woke A up too, and instead of a shower before work, I collected a handful of orgasms and ran out the door.  This super quick morning sex, interrupted by a 4-year-old who needed cuddles, was insufficient to make up for what we missed last night, but it was a start.  As he left this morning, he apologized three times, I know he missed out too, and I know he didn’t do anything intentionally, it just is what it is.

Sexually, what I needed last night was to get lost in A.  I needed to connect with him in that physical way.  I needed him to take control of me and I needed him to hurt me to take me away from the stress and busyness of my week.  The fact is, I had built myself up with anticipation during the previous three days and since he has almost never failed to deliver, I had no reason to suspect last night would be any different.  

I am a big girl and sexual disappointment really isn’t that big of a deal.  It’s a short -lived sadness, not something that sits, fastened to my heart.  What’s really bugging me is the lack of the emotional and intellectual connection that we usually share.  We didn’t get to catch up.  I didn’t get to tell him about the ups and downs of my week, nor did I get to hear about his.  Add to this the fact that we didn’t manage to have drinks or reconnect at all during the week, as is our norm, and we were both so busy that we hardly chatted at all.  We certainly didn’t exchange anything meaningful during the week.  I feel robbed of the reset that is just talking to A and tuning out the rest of the world to just be with him.  

On top of this, it’s Saturday.  It’s the day that A and his wife spend together.  Normally, I’m still riding the high of our night together, so I take the relative radio silence in stride. I miss him, but I recognize his need for connection with her too.  Today though, it’s like there is this empty well that needs to be filled and instead of that, it’s going to be sucked dry with the reminder that I am alone, with no telling when the next chance to connect with A will occur.  

So, I’m going to sit here at my job, being disappointed, sad, unsatisfied, and feeling sorry for myself.  It won’t last for long, because I know that come the next time I see him, we will be able to reset.  It won’t last for long, because I’m good at processing and perspective, and I know that this wasn’t about me, but about him and what he needed.  It won’t last for long, because the job I am currently working is an ongoing reminder of exactly how blessed my life is.  

But for now?  I’m going to feel the feelings and embrace my disappointment and sadness.  


So many things!

I’ve been dying to write all week and haven’t had any time.  This fact in itself is indicative of how life is.  I’m in the middle of a stressful time at work, my kids are peaking in some of their stress over my separation, and I laid out all my cards for F a few weeks ago and made sure he knew that our deal was off if he couldn’t compromise.  It seems like the latter might actually be resolved, but I’m not going to hold my breath until the separation agreement is signed.  

A few weeks ago, just after I broke up with O, I spent what was supposed to have been a romantic weekend with him alone at my house. It was an amazing reset to be at home alone.  During that time, I did a lot of soul searching, along with mourning for the loss of the future I thought I had with O.  One of the things I realized is that I need to spend every possible minute with my kids, especially on these weeks where they are in school and I am working and F has the kids on the weekend when I would normally be free to spend time with them.  Another was that I need to spend more time alone.

This decision means that I’ve had less time for my friends and other people I love, but has had the most amazing effect on my kids. They are happier and more settled and are opening up and talking to me about all the things that they are going through.  It’s meant some pretty heartbreaking talks with my girls, but I think that the heartbreak is part of the steps toward healing in this case.  As I work through their hurts with them, I am doing that typical mom overthinking thing.  I’m naturally a rather thorough processor of information and this is true in this case too.  Part of what I’m processing is just how bad a choice 25-year-old me made in dating and eventually marrying and having kids with F.  The hurt he caused me is deep, but the hurt he is causing my children is so much more significant, and now they are in a situation where they will have to deal with him and his manipulation for the rest of their lives.  This means I’ve been thinking a lot about the similarities between F and my dad.  I grew up with the most dysfunctional father, who manipulated, yelled, verbally abused, and neglected.  He is a permanent victim who never takes responsibility for his actions.  (Yes, my mom is amazing and my step-dad is fantastic, and a person can grow up to be who I am with only one functional biological parent).  I realize now that I repeated history by choosing F.  How I’ve condemned my children to so much of the hurt and processing and growth I had to do as an adult, because I chose a broken father for them.  I’ve talked to a few friends about this, and their response is always to not be too hard on myself about it, without F I wouldn’t have the four amazing children I do.  I know this.  I don’t regret it, although I would go back and change my decision if I could, and choose a better father for the children I have, what breaks my heart is that I am going to see my children’s hearts break regularly as they navigate their relationships with their dad.

Processing this has been weighing on me so as a result, my time alone has been spent in relative sadness. The fact is, I’ve been a bit lonely.  I realized that part of what I was doing before was filling my time with people and dates just to prevent myself from feeling alone.  To the point where I had to schedule time on my own to get the recharge time I needed. The sudden appearance of alone time has me adjusting.  I  realize how healthy it is to feel lonely but still be happy.  To be able to choose to spend time with those I care about and choose to spend time loving myself too.  It’s also a reminder that even when you are poly, you can have many loving partners, but you can be alone and feel lonely too.  Importantly, this is not always a problem. At present, I’m in need of some connection in the form of cuddles and touch.  Now, I get tons of cuddles all the time from four of the most beautiful beings, but what I need is someone to hold me and ground me again, make me feel loved and protected.  I need my buckets filled. It is date night with A today, and I haven’t seen him in a week, so there is a real risk that I will hug him and not let him go.

Among the things that I’ve been processing this week is the great sex that S and I had early this week. This was the first time we had sex and was the first time I’ve had sex with a woman with no man in the room too.  It was super hot. Slow, soft, and full of laughter, cuddles, and exploration.  If the first time we had sex is an indication of what’s to come, we’re going to have a hot sex life!  There were some pretty funny moments too.  There were a few things I learned:


  1. Finding a clit isn’t as easy as I thought it would be. While mine is obvious to me, hers was less so.  I’ll be doing some serious exploring next time we are together.  
  2. Hair gets everywhere!  I’m used to my hair, but I date a lot of bald men and have never had to deal with long hair before.
  3. That same long hair feels amazing dragging across a naked body.
  4. Women are soft.  Not hard and hairy.  It’s amazing.
  5. I always thought that it must feel pretty damn good to a man to have boobs dragging down their body as a woman goes down on them.  I was so right!
  6. You want to have sex with someone who knows what a woman wants to get her going?  You want the best foreplay ever?  Date a woman.  Seriously.  Before I even got close to orgasming, I had soaked the bed.  She played me like no one ever has.
  7. Dating a woman who is also in a dom/sub dynamic is amazing. She fully understands my relationship with A, supports it, and full on laughs when I tell our silly stories.  She really wants to meet him and get to know him.  Contrast this with my other partners and their jealousy.  My heart explodes!

So, the thing about all of this is that I learned a lot and had an amazing first experience with her.  It was the fulfillment of a fantasy I’ve had for longer than I can remember, one that I never thought I’d fulfill when I was married and monogamous.  With that extreme high came the crash the next day.  As I talked to A about my unexplainable grumpiness, he asked a question that made me realize that I just had a pretty major, very wonderful, life experience, and that I needed to process it.  Think it through, dissect it (I’m a scientist, taking things apart, putting them back together, and seeing what happens is what I do), and accept it as part of my reality.  It’s totally OK to have loved an experience and be overwhelmed and a bit emotional about it. I’ve spent the small amount of down time I had this week processing.  I have so much learning to do, but so love where my relationship is headed with S.  She’s kinky, smart, kind, understanding, loving, strong, and funny.  I am excited about our future and how well we fit together.  We continuously joke about how we were made for each other. It almost seems like a dream that she just walked into my life.  I am so lucky.

The other day, one of my favourite coworkers came over to watch a movie. In typical me fashion, we talked through the movie.  I am not much for movie watching with others – I like to talk and connect with people – so I usually save my movie watching for alone time.  He is also going through a divorce and is about to enter the dating world again. We were talking about dating experiences and likes and dislikes and what he wants.  He was talking about how his wife didn’t really like the things he did.  She wasn’t interested in his hobbies and actively tried to change him.  She would get upset if he went for a drink with a friend.  She only wanted to hang out with her friends, not his.  The list goes on and is a tale that most have heard repeatedly.  What he said is that he wants to date someone who gets him – understands him, doesn’t necessarily have to do things with him, but supports him in his endeavours and his interests and doesn’t try to force him into a mold he doesn’t fit into.  He said he wants someone who is his best friend.  In that moment, I realized exactly what I have.  I have two partners who are the best friends I have.  I can talk to them about anything, they accept me for who I am without criticism, and we have so much fun together.  We have mutual respect and compassion. We share some interests, but have diverse enough interests that our conversations are full of so many interesting moments.  Add to that the emotional, intellectual, and physical connections we share on so many levels with so much intricacy and intimacy, and I realize exactly how much I have.

That all being realized, my path forward is obvious. If I get another partner, I want to have a partner who is a friend. Someone who loves and supports me for who I am and the choices I make.  I’m not interested in someone new who is going to cause stress or drama.  So, I’ve stepped back, mostly rid myself of all the men I was talking to, and other than some efforts to reconnect with an old friend with benefits, I’m not doing much in the dating world.  You know what?  I’m completely satisfied with that.    


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.  



If the title doesn’t give it away, this entire blog post is written from a place of intense and deep anger and hurt.  It is not my usual level-headed self-reflective post.  Sometimes, writing out the anger gets it out of my heart. This is one such time.

The last few days were a plethora of awfulness.  Between the heartbreak hitting this weekend and not being able to get some connection I craved to calm my poor soul, the nasty cold virus that exerted its dominance over my body, F not responding to a crucial deadline in our separation proceedings, and all the O stupidness yesterday, I’m a little overwhelmed, to the point of being kind of numb.  Well, there was one highlight in the last days – drinks with A yesterday, just laughing and joking and catching up and being us.  That and the amazing hug that ended the date.  That man can hug like no other.

Last night I spent in a full out rage. I was livid.  I’m not sure livid is even strong enough to describe how I felt – I totally used an online thesaurus for this:  I was enraged!  I was furious!  I was corybantic with rage!  I was so annoyed with the excuses and the stupidity that came through in O’s last messages to me. For an educated, intelligent guy, he was a seriously stupid individual yesterday.  I got ridiculously angry, really fast. I was hitting hard and fast, and he was grabbing on to every excuse he could just so he could look himself in the mirror.  Among the stupider things he sent:

“…if you are happier now that we are apart, we shouldn’t be together. If you are happier when we are together, then we should be together.

The choice is yours.

Both ex and other partner have given me some important perspective this weekend. I love you. I am here for you if you choose to be with me but I will not beg.”

Excellent. I love a thinly veiled ultimatum.  I’m sorry, but last time I checked, he violated a very clearly established boundary (see below) and my right to consent.  A threat in the form of “I’m not going to beg” aka “I’m not going to wait around forever” isn’t going to fucking cut it less than two weeks after you fucked up our entire god damned relationship.  It certainly isn’t appropriate.  It’s smacks of my 4-year-old saying “I’m not going to be your friend anymore!”  Although she may have a better grasp of cause and effect.  

“Please don’t post our private FB conversations on your blog without my permission. Other partner is pissed at you on my behalf for doing that.”

I have to say that I responded to this very badly.  Why the FUCK should I care what another partner, someone whose opinions are filtered through O’s perceptions, thinks?  Why would I not post a conversation with me on my blog?  I do. It gives clarity. It eliminates my interpretation.  Sure, I asked before when they were his self-reflections.  When I actually cared about hurting his feelings. But when you crush me completely by breaking my trust and destroying the entire foundation of our relationship with one decision, I don’t care so much.  And his communications serve to demonstrate what a clueless fuck he was immediately following fucking another girl in the same bed as me WITHOUT MY CONSENT, just hours after I clearly said I WASN’T READY TO SHARE HIM IN THE SAME ROOM AS ANOTHER WOMAN.

So, I asked him why he cared so much about what I posted on the blog all of a sudden.

“I could care less (sic) about the blog, to be honest. Other partner just pointed out a bit of a double-standard. …ex asked me what I was getting from our relationship and I honestly couldn’t give her an answer. I realized it was all on what I could do for you. Other partner pointed out that you are so clear on your boundaries but didn’t communicate them well to me. Repeatedly saying they were clear does not make them clear. She also wonders if you are working out some very deep hurt from the past on me now…..Ex thinks I need a break from you for my own good.”

Let’s dissect this one, shall we?

A double standard?  Ha. The irony of asking me to respect an arbitrary boundary, when you say you don’t actually care about what is written, when you completely violated a very clearly established and very well communicated boundary.  Bitter humour to swallow there.

Let’s jump to the part about how well I communicated a boundary: I didn’t just say it as clear.  They were all clear.  My exact words were: “I am getting closer to the point where I could share you in the same room with another person, but I’m not there yet.  My body still does this ***mine!!!!*** thing when we are together, and I’m not yet able to handle seeing you with another person.”  I really don’t know how that can get any fucking clearer.  I said this just before we went to the pub night.  Within five hours, he was fucking someone in bed next to me (just in case you forgot, without my consent).  Not to mention the fact that someone who has never met me is telling someone who didn’t listen to my clearly communicated boundary that I didn’t communicate well. Huh.  It’s like she wasn’t even fucking there and doesn’t know what went on.

Couldn’t give an answer about what you got out of the relationship?  It was based on what he could do for me.  Really?  Really?  Fucking really?  Anything he did for me was voluntary.  We talked about how bad I was at asking for what I needed. At being vulnerable.  I hardly asked anything. Ever. The reason? Because of shit like this.  There’s just so much martyrdom in this statement that I can’t.  It’s so fucking stupid.  Fuck.  Good thing he wasn’t getting anything out of it, because there won’t be getting anything back, that’s for fucking sure.

But the cherry on top of the icing that’s on top of the cake: “processing a deep hurt from the past on me now…”  Yes, absolutely.  That deep hurt from my past goes way back to 11 days ago.  WHEN HE VIOLATED A CLEARLY COMMUNICATED BOUNDARY AND DISREGARDED MY RIGHT TO CONSENT.  He fucked a girl in the same bed as I was naked in.  Then he continued when I was obviously upset by it.  Then he justified it by saying I wasn’t into joining.  And he finally owned it, after I broke up with him, and now he is looking for any and every excuse to blame me to help him feel better about how badly he fucked up.  

The whole thread yesterday was best summarized by L and his girlfriend: “this is some pretty base ‘cheerleader syndrome’. They’re helping him through the breakup, which is good. But they’re doing it by putting him on a pedestal and giving him the idea that he should probably be forgiven for one error since he’s otherwise a great guy. They’re also managing to somewhat make you the villain and him the victim here.  By attacking your blog and ‘being pissed at you on his behalf’, they’re telling him he’s the good guy. By getting O to see a relationship where he was just helping you all the time and getting nothing back, you’re the bad guy.
When he comes back and says you should be together if you were happy.  And that he thought you were long term and the one and all that. No. Not ok.”

Yeah. All that.  No passive aggressive guilt trips for this girl, thank you.

Then I got an email from his ex-wife, asking for me to remove things he and I had written about her and her actions in their marriage breakdown. It was cloaked in passive aggressive manipulative bullshit and it was a huge invasion of my personal privacy as it came to my personal email, not my blog contact email.  This means he gave it to her.  With that last violation of my trust and personal space, I had to block him completely from my life.  Up until yesterday morning, I thought that maybe one day we could try again….but he and his cheerleaders have shown me that is a mountain I’m not interested in climbing, not the least because they are also on it.   I’m glad he has support. It’s too bad those people have to attack the victim to give it.

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.


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.