Guys, I did good!

My title is a bit of a joke and a bit of a pat on the back directed towards myself.  

For the first time in our relationship, A started dating someone that I hadn’t introduced him to.  Last week, when he let me know that sex was on the table for him and the new girl, I wasn’t particularly upset, but I had some confusing feelings that I needed time to process.  In the end, I realized they were all insecurities that I needed to work through and had nothing to do with him. I don’t want to really go into the details of the insecurities that reared their ugly heads, partly because it’s embarrassingly unattractive and I’m a little disgusted at myself for having them in the first place, part of that is that I was pretty bluntly honest about them with S and G last week, and I didn’t exactly get the response I needed when putting out all that vulnerability from S (G nailed it, as she always does), and because I’m mostly past them and really don’t want to re-feel all the feels.  Also, A and I had a total communication fuck up around the whole thing, he totally dropped the ball, I totally wasn’t clear about what I was feeling, and in the end it became a thing when it wasn’t supposed to ever be a thing and all I needed was some acknowledgment and maybe a little reassurance, so…ugh…no more.

So, A and new girl had their date the other day.  I was genuinely concerned with how I would deal with it, because it was a completely unknown situation to me.  A true first. I’d be lying if I didn’t say it popped into my mind a few times on Sunday night, but the thing was, it was more factual, like “I wonder if it’s happening now?”, and then super excitement for him.  No jealousy. I actually tried to dig deep to see if there would be some kind of upset feelings, and I couldn’t find any. It just didn’t bother me.

However, being proactive, I did ask him a few details over messenger the next day, and asked him to stop by for a debrief.  You see, I know myself well, and I know that my imagination makes up way worse things in my head than the truth ever brings.  So he stopped by after work and we had a (very disjointed thanks to the crazy assholes I brought into this world) chat about his night.  The thing was, he’s so cute. The smiles and exhaustion and general contentment were so amazing to see. I felt a level of compersion I’ve never felt before.  

This just makes me happy.  Happy for A, yes, but happy for me, even more.  I have an amazing relationship with A. We are so comfortable and stable and it’s really fucking good.  I realized the other day that while we’ll never have that NRE and excitement that we may once have had (I don’t actually remember it, because it was all wrapped up in the weirdness that was our beginning), what we have is so much better.  That compersion came easy for me, well, that just makes me happy, and reinforces, again, that this life I’ve chosen is right for me.



Earn my submission

My submission is not owed to anyone.  My submission was given to A as a gift because he earned it.  He earned it through gaining my trust, respect, love, and obedience (in bed only – I’m a pain in his ass the rest of the time).  He earned it by talking through things with me, establishing limits together, discussing fantasies and how to fulfill them, and showing me, through his actions, that he is worthy of my submission.  He earned it by being there for me every day for the last year and a half, by working through twisty bits with me, and by dominating me in the most amazing ways every week.

So you know what, aspiring doms?  You need to do the same thing. If you are a dom and you want me to submit to you, the first thing you need to do is gain my trust and respect.  So when I tell you that I am a submissive and that I’m poly and I’d like another boyfriend, that is not your cue to talk dirty to me or demand that I meet you in a field somewhere for some kinky fun or call me your dirty little slut.  

What should you do?  You should talk to me. Get to know the strong, independent, intelligent woman that I am.  Talk to me about my life, my philosophies on how I create connections with people and allow my relationships to evolve, about my career and what it means to me, about my kids and how I manage coparenting with a narcissistic passive aggressive asshole, or even about where I’ve travelled, lived, or call home.  You know what, the subject matter doesn’t even matter, just take an interest in me as a person. Until you know me as a person, respect me for all the things I bring to the table, value me for my brain, strength, incredible nerdiness, and openness to every type of connection, I will not submit to you.

When I was dating D, we had really hot vanilla sex. There was never going to be anything more than a really fun vanilla connection between us, had we continued dating to today, and I never wanted anything more with him.  The sex was fantastic as it was, and he, to me, was a gentle giant with a soul that invited me into comfort and love. I would have never considered a D/S dynamic with him, and loved what we had. When I was dating O, he was really jealous of A.  A consequence of this was that he pushed for a D/S dynamic with me. The first time we did it, it was pretty fun. The second was a disaster. It felt forced and awkward to me. I realized that he was pushing for a sexual dynamic in the bedroom that wasn’t a dynamic we naturally had.  I was never comfortable submitting to him, our dynamic was vanilla, and had he left it at that, it probably would have remained really hot, but alas, it didn’t. Contrast this to A, who was only ever just himself. At the beginning, we just had really great sex. There was no power exchange, just mutual ravaging of each other as soon as consent was given.  I loved that he took charge, guided me with what he wanted to do, but I was just as likely to take control in the beginning, and even still, I’m often the one who initiates. What triggered our descent down the rabbit hole? Me. Not him pushing me, but me asking him to take control of me and experiment with me. Who drives our ongoing descent? Me. Who has control in the bedroom?  Him, because I give it to him, because he earned it.

There is nothing more offensive to me than the man who starts talking to me like I’m his submissive before he earns that place in my life.  Really, it turns my vagina into a desert capable of dehydrating the strongest camel in the herd. All of this makes me wonder how doms and subs work in the larger community and if that approach, the one where a man sexualizes a woman and assumes things about her desires and position in life without actually knowing her, is normal, or actually works for men.  But for me, you need to dominate my brain and stimulate me intellectually before you dominate by body and stimulate me sexually.


In the days preceding my last date with A, I spent some time anticipating our date.  I had received a rather large box full of toys that I had ordered online and wanted to try them all.  I also wanted some limits tested. I asked for exactly what I wanted and A, like the gentleman he is, obliged.  In retrospect, I probably asked for too much. After a long time flogging me and forcing me to orgasm over and over, I was tied up, kneeling, with a spreader bar holding my ankles apart and my arms behind my back.  He flogged me hard. I had candle wax poured over me front and back. I sucked his cock. It was hot. Really fucking hot. Then I felt nauseated and dizzy and had to stop. Immediately. I suppose it would have been a good time to use my colours and if I had, I would have been saying “red”, but all I could say was “I need to stop, I’m dizzy and don’t feel well”, and I broke out of my arm restraints and sat down because I couldn’t do anything else.  A undid my legs and I crawled, covered in wax, into bed. I was scared. I didn’t know what was happening to me. I couldn’t articulate my feelings, I only understand them now, in retrospect. It’s pretty clear to me now that I had some form of shock, but at the time, I couldn’t process anything, my logical brain just wasn’t functioning. I remember A talking to me, but don’t remember what I said in return, but then he did the most amazing thing. He cuddled up to me; he spooned me and wrapped his arms around me tightly.  It was like I was falling through space with nothing to grip on to, struggling to breathe, and then suddenly I was surrounded by an anchor that kept me safe and warm and because of it I was able to return into my body and reset. A, who had, minutes before, been very much in control of every sensation that brought me to the place where my mind shut off and my body took over in a scary way, instantly became my place of calm.

The first thing I remember A saying to me is “You’re clammy, I think you’re in shock”.  I couldn’t really respond at the time, but now that I look back, I think I was in shock.  I was dizzy, nauseated, hands tingly, shaky, and scared. Really scared. What I suspect happened was a mix of adrenaline from the pain of the flogging and heat of the wax and endorphins from all the orgasms.  I think I hit fight or flight mode and my body shut down because it couldn’t reconcile how much I was enjoying things with how much pain I was experiencing. Once A wrapped his arms around me, my body chose the path it wanted to go down, my brain rebooted, and the adrenaline disappeared.  The endorphins must have stayed, because I was instantly turned on again. It’s amazing to me that as soon as I was grounded and calmed by A’s touch, I wanted to be engulfed in it again.

It all happened so fast, I’m not sure A realized what was happening to me. Truthfully, I’m not sure I realized what was happening to me.  I know that I didn’t have time to feel anything other than fear and then safety. There’s something truly amazing in that. In my past, there have been times that I have laid in bed next to a partner scared or sad or overwhelmed and been as alone as if I was the only person on the planet.  Times where I was afraid, crying, and desperate for someone to hold me, and that person was in the room but unavailable. I wasn’t even capable of asking for what I needed the other night with A and he did the only thing that would help me process and be me again. It was so fast that an outside observer could have missed it, but sometimes the big moments are like that, they flash right by.  I suspect he did it without really thinking. Perhaps his default it to hold the people he loves until they find calm or maybe he holds people when he doesn’t know what else to do. That doesn’t change what it meant to me though. Having someone provide me safety and calm when I don’t have the ability to ask for it is pretty much the greatest gift anyone can give me. A and I spend a lot of time joking and minimizing the meaning of our relationship.  I’ve written several versions of the end of this post and each sounds flippant and catch phrase-y. I can’t minimize what A means to me and I can’t shout it from the rooftops either. What I can do is not do either, and sit back and be happy with what I have. I am so very happy with what I have.

Really happy

I’ve been trying to put words into last Friday’s date with A for days.  I’m going to do my best, but I’m still not sure I can. Adjectives don’t exist to describe it, even with the most perfect adverbs to back them up.  I think that the week, in general, was the perfect build up to his arrival that night. We managed to get together three times, twice for coffee, and once for drinks.  We got a lot of our talking and reconnecting packed into those days. What that meant was that when A arrived at my house on Friday night, after three weeks away, words weren’t needed.  He finally ravaged me in the way I wanted, with the caveat that I needed him to not leave marks on me. It was incredible.

I’ve never orgasmed as much as I did that night.  From the moment he walked in the door, I was completely immersed in him.  Each of us clearly needed to scratch an itch, because for the first time in our relationship, we hardly spoke a word but were attached to each other the entire night.  Everything he did to me was perfect and I’m anticipating this Friday more than normal, which is saying something, because close to a year and a half later, I am almost as excited by our dates as I was three months in.  Sure, we have the comfort that a long-term relationship brings, but we also know what that relationship has brought to us. Also, because we haven’t and won’t escalate, we have this unique situation where we get to truly enjoy each other without the trappings that life brings.

The fact that I still want A as much, or possibly even more, than I wanted him last year at this time is something that I want to write about.  I honestly hadn’t thought about it until the last few days, but there’s something to be said about the fact that this far into our relationship, my attraction to him has only grown. There are so many reasons for this that I can’t itemize them, plus, the details would be way too good for his ego, but I think it boils down to the fact that despite all the complexities of our lives and how our relationship fits in it, I have always felt valued and respected by him.  Simply put, I’ve always felt wanted, which makes me want him. Contrast this to the selfish desires and demands of previous men in my life and the dichotomy is mind-blowing, at least to me.

I feel like there is something substantial to the fact that for the first time in my life, at 40-years-old, I have committed relationships where I am still overwhelmingly sexually attracted to a partner.  In my prior relationships, this never happened. For me, I think I have found the reality that is being an adult with functional relationships that I choose every day. The difference between relationships that escalate with societal expectations and those that escalate with choice and active participation of the people involved.  I think I’ve truly discovered what my needs are in love.



It’s been a week since I wrote all that is above.  Last week, A and I got a chance for a quick glass of wine and a bit of a snuggle on the couch and had our normal Friday date, which started late because kids.  True to form, we spent hours talking, laughing, and just touching before anything sexual happened. Then we fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms and it was perfect.  I loved being ravaged, and would welcome it any time it happens, it was perfect after the need of the previous three weeks and the fact that we’d managed to catch up during the week.  Even more, I love that when we haven’t had the chance to meet during the week, we can reconnect, catch up on everything that happened in between our rather sporadic text messages, and really be the couple we are together, before anything else happens.  There is such a comfort in what we have, that we can adapt to our situation and individual needs. I’m just really happy with what we have, and the many forms it takes.


Unmet needs

The last week has kind of, well, sucked. My usual positive demeanor has been crushed into a pit of negativity and defeatism.  I’m going to just whine a bit, so be warned. I know I sound a bit like a spoiled brat. A’s on a much needed vacation. It’s been two weeks since I’ve been touched in a sexual way.  It’s been slightly less since I saw A last, but our dates where we meet for drinks, while full of intellectual and emotional connection, are nearly devoid of physical connection – unless you count a simple kiss as physical, but I don’t.  I got sick the day he left on vacation over a week ago and I haven’t touched an adult since. In fact, I haven’t touched a person I wasn’t responsible for keeping alive since. I’m dying for touch.

I’m in this lovely place in life where truly amazing people care about me.  They really respect me and love me. They look up to me and want to be with me.  These are good things. I cancelled on S the week before A left because I was so exhausted I couldn’t see straight and I only managed to kiss and grope her while drunk at the poly pub night with her hubby. Then she cancelled on me because she has amazing priorities.  Then I got sick and ruined everything and cancelled on her. So it’s been three weeks since I’ve got to hold her in my arms and I’m going crazy without her. I desperately need to reconnect with her physically.

The fact is, I’m going crazy with the lack of touch. The lack of connection. I think I’ve discovered the downside of solo-poly.  I love being strong and independent and in control. I do. But when you are sick, to the point where you don’t leave the couch for the weekend and to the point where you cancel all your plans because you don’t want to infect everyone you see, the truth is, what you really want is the person who will hold you while you are suffering.  I don’t have that. This is the first time I realized that. The reality is that I never really had that, I just had the illusion of that. When I was sick in the past, F would complain about what I needed. If I was sick in bed because I was unable to do more, it was burden on him. I remember about six months into our relationship, going away for a weekend together.  There was much build up about the physical nature of that weekend. On the Saturday, I got dreadfully sick with food poisoning and spent most of the day and night in the washroom. He spent that time openly complaining about the fact that we weren’t having sex as anticipated. Meanwhile, I wasn’t out of the washroom for more than 20 minutes in a 24 hours period. I felt just good enough to drive back home.  This was the first time that he turned my suffering into something about him. I couldn’t possibly itemize the rest of the times he did that in 14 years.

The fact is, right now, I don’t need much, but what I need is a little affirmation.  I’ve been reaching out to A and to S and the truth is, I’m not getting everything I need.  S is generally great. She reinforces my insecurities with love. She reminds me that she needs me.  She misses me when she can’t touch me. She celebrates my successes and laments my failures. Even apart, we are together in the daily milestones.  I send materially equivalent messages to A. I try not to be upset when he doesn’t respond, but the fact is, sometimes, it feels like he doesn’t care.  Sometimes, I need more than he can give. That’s where we are right now, I think.

I’m mad at him; I miss him; I want to touch him so badly.  I LOVE that he is finally getting a break, but I’m mad as fuck that he can’t be bothered to say “goodnight” or acknowledge my message that my real estate papers are signed for my separation, or even recognize that I ranted about my problems with insurance companies, or that I admitted how much I’m struggling with the lack of connection.  What I need is simple and he’s currently not giving it to me. Even when I directly ask for it.

I need love. Acknowledgement.  I need him to say I mean as much to him as he means to me.  I need to feel like he values me. Like he misses me, even when he’s in paradise with his family.  I need him to care enough to want to care for my needs while he is caring for his. And I’m not sure he does.  I’m in this weird place where I just want him to show he cares about me. I want more than a “Good morning” every day.  I want to feel like I matter, but I don’t feel like I do. I feel insignificant and unimportant and like I don’t matter to him.  

Most of this is a “me” thing, I know this.  When I was in Mexico in December, I took a picture of a beautiful beach side romantic dinner for two that was set up and waiting for a couple to arrive and captioned it “One day”.  A commented that it was amazing. I mentioned the dream that it was. A booked the equivalent romantic dinner for himself and his wife for their 19th wedding anniversary at the hotel they are at in Mexico.  I love that he did that for her. For them. It’s amazing. It’s something to celebrate. Fuck, someone put up with him for 19 years of marriage, that’s big. Compersion was my first response. Then I looked at the pictures.  I realized that even if the situation were different and it was he and I that were in the same place, he’d probably not book the romantic dinner for us. What’s more, it hit me that I may never be able to exclaim publicly, or post a picture on social media, how much he means to me or the history we have in the same way his wife can.  Normally, I can be quite pragmatic about this, it’s the reality of dating a married man who is not “out”. When his wife tags him in brunch posts or family posts or long-time friend posts, I don’t usually feel anything but happy for everything he has. This week though, the things I don’t have hit me in the feels.

Right now, he’s taking the time he needs. The time I know he needs, deserves, and more than anything, I want him to have.  In the meantime, my life hasn’t stopped and I need things from him that he isn’t giving to me and I’m angry about missing the pieces.  At the same time, I want to hug him, hold him, love him, and be one with him, because he fulfills me in ways no man ever has. This weird dichotomy is brought to you by functional relationships where you can love someone and recognize the things that are missing at the same time.

I told A how I was feeling last night, because I had a temporary lack of judgement, because wine.  Of course, he pissed me off completely (sarcasm-ish) by apologizing and being the generally amazing person he is by acknowledging my feelings, explaining his position, and being himself.  

I recognize where I am. These are temporary problems that are easily solved by time.  The next time this happens, I will be much better prepared to deal with the emotions of it, because I’ve experienced it before.  For many people, going two weeks without touch is not something to complain about; I get my privilege in this situation. In fact, looking at it practically, I see how amazing my life is that I feel loved, supported, and valued enough on a daily basis that I have the luxury of feeling sad because no one has touched me in two weeks.  Knowing this doesn’t diminish my need for touch, but understanding the root of my emotions is kind of amazing.


How about I start this like I seem to start every blog post?  The last few weeks have been insanely busy. So busy, that I found myself near tears the other day because a coworker kindly did something small to lighten my load.  This single event was the key to me recognizing I needed to take some time for myself, and the other day, I did just that. A pedicure and eyelash extensions later, I felt slightly more girly and slightly more relaxed.  Add in a date night with A that involved a lot of chatting, some hot, if tame, sex, and a night full of cuddles and love, and I felt like my tank was fuller than it has been in ages.

I really don’t know where to start.  I’m happily in love with S. So much so that we are a bunch of barfy girls in love who are so sappy and hilarious and loving.  Add to that her amazing hubby who makes me laugh and is a beautiful arm candy wingman when I need one because F and W show up at a local poly pub night and I have everything I ever dreamed of in a woman.  Add to that her Daddy who texts with me and will do sexy favours like giving her an extra orgasm and saying it’s from me, and it’s perfect.

A and I are…just us.  It’s fun and full of connection and sexy and never enough.  I love that man deeply and completely and I am so super happy with where we are.  I will always want more time (read: sex) with him, but I am also content with the way he communicates, his boundaries, and the fact that he generally makes a priority out of me. I am loving that his wife and I are becoming friends and seem to really understand each other well.  I love that we are planning winter vacations together and more. It’s all so….exactly what I wanted when I first heard of poly, but I appreciate it even more now that I know it’s not as easy to attain as I once hoped.

I’ve been overwhelmed at work. To the point where the job I love has been stressing me out.  Last week, I was lamenting my current stress and realized something rather significant: Last year, I didn’t notice my work stress.  I was so stressed at home that work was a break, despite the fact that I had so much more to do last year. That’s when I realized how incredibly normal my life is right now.  Settled. I’m content. Sure, I have stress, but it’s not even a small fraction of what I had last year. Last year, at this time, I was fighting with F daily. I was feeling unloved, unwanted, like a single random event could knock the fascade of my functioning life of its rails (See when D broke up with me), and I really didn’t know what way was up.  My kids were emotionally struggling with the horrible home we had provided them. I was coping with W and her lies and the fact that F believed her and deserted me. This year, I’m stressed because I have a lot of work. How awesome is that?

I have so many reasons I am content.  The date night with S when we shared some hot photos with her hubby and he responded with the funniest mocking pictures back and made him my favourite metamour instantly.  Texting with her Daddy and sharing our feelings on how amazing she is. Sex with S, sensual, full of connection, and loving. The amazing orgasms. How hot she is when she cums.  The fact that we managed to fit all of our boobs in one picture! Two amazing visits with A’s wife where we bonded over how much we love him. The date night where A got drunk and his sadist came out and I hit a subspace that left me without anything left but totally satisfied.  The subspace that left me in tears but the kind that had to come out because I had nothing left. The type of dominance that led to me being unable to roll over onto my boobs or sit on my ass comfortably for a couple days. The next morning, the pain left me wanting more, so he took me there.  The pain was intense, the edging was torture, and the orgasms were forced until I had trouble breathing. And in true A form, he rolled on his back and had me finish him off – the ultimate control. Days later, talking with A, I realized that he was so drunk he didn’t remember all that he did to me.  This could be upsetting, but to me it’s just amazing that he can do all that while intoxicated. Why? Simply put, it’s because I said one thing that night. It wasn’t a colour or a scream. It was a simply stated: “I need to stop, it’s too much” and he untied me, cuddled me, and rubbed the rope marks on my body until I collapsed in his arms.  That, right there, is why I know I have my perfection. The man who pushes the boundaries I want pushed. The man who listens to my desires and levels them up. The man who gives me what I need even when it’s not what I want. The man who listens, really listens, to me. You know what else I have? The perfection of a girlfriend who is almost as excited as I am about my date nights.  The girlfriend who wants to know the details of my nights and celebrates every orgasm and every orgasm that was denied. The girlfriend who is as turned on by the anticipation of date nights as I am. The girlfriend who gets me, like no one ever has. The girlfriend who makes me want her like no woman ever has.

My life is going to have stress forever.  I’m stuck with F for the rest of my life, thanks to parenting the coolest four kids on the planet.  I’m stuck with W as long as she is in his life, which will hopefully not be too long, but that man clearly doesn’t have the ability to think logically, so I hold little hope.  There’s also my sister who is still causing issues because F doesn’t respect me enough to also cut her out. These things, while upsetting, are not defining. They are just an inconvenience.  Those three, they are temporary and insignificant, like dog shit on my shoe as I stroll through a park.

What I have with A and S?  Significant. And the science nerd in me loves that and them.  


Things went stale this last week (Thank you A and S for the reminders – I’m glad I have you two to remind me to write about….you two!).  Not for any particular reason other than I was busy living my life and working too much.  I had a much-needed day off on Sunday that was my first day off after 20 days straight of work between my two jobs.  However, last week was a little less stressful at my full-time job and I took that as an opportunity to cash in and work a lot more at my casual job, which is stressful at best and has crazy hours, so I wore myself out. Then, on the two days I had kids that I could get away, I had mommy-daughter dates with two of my girls. I’m not sure I can adequately express exactly how cool those kids are, and how much I enjoyed my time with them, but it means that I entered this week behind, with little chance of catching up until April.

I took my #2 to visit A’s wife and have coffee on one of the dates.  Their cat had kittens a couple months ago so we went over to cuddle kittens and visit. I had an amazing talk with A’s wife.  She’s truly an absolutely lovely person.  I wrote a while ago about how I would like a better relationship with her as a metamour and with her also dating, that transition seems to be happening naturally. I don’t know if it’s because it’s easier for her now that things are more “balanced” in her and A’s relationship dynamic or if it’s because she now understands on a more personal level what the relationship outside of the life partnership means to the other person, or something else, but I love it.  

A was having a pretty rough week a couple weeks ago (when he passed out less than 30 minutes after arriving at my place) and so his wife and I talked about how much fun he is to deal with when he’s grumpy and even shared a fist bump in solidarity!  One of the things she said that meant a lot to me was that she is so glad that A has found someone who understands him and accepts him as he is.  How he can be gruff and a bit of an asshole sometimes and doesn’t always really care how others see him.  I said that one of the many things about him that I love is that he is unapologetically himself.  I always know exactly where I stand with him, even if I sometimes have to ask.  She said something I have often thought and also means a lot to me: “Isn’t it wonderful having a relationship with someone who chooses every day to be with you?”

IT ABSOLUTELY IS!  The thing about my relationships now is that I have to put a lot of effort into maintaining contact, being clear about what I’m doing, where I am emotionally, and whether I need or want support.  I have had to learn to explain things clearly, not react in the moment until I have more information, and to ask for information when I find some lacking. I have spent some time reevaluating my expectations and totally changing them altogether in some instances. The fact is that every day, I choose A. Every day, I choose S.  And every day, they choose me.  There’s no taking for granted in our situations.  We actively participate in our lives together in whatever form they take, daily.

One of the things that came up between A’s wife and I was that I had to ask her for their address.  Initially, when A and I started dating, they had a rule that they didn’t host dates at their house.  Their house was for their family.  I had been to his house briefly one night when he had to feed his animals while we were on a date, but had no idea where it was, to be honest.  Since my house is mine and even when I was married F worked night shifts, I have always hosted. This is never a problem for me, as I like being at home, it allows me to have dates after my kids go to bed, and it means that I don’t have to drive at the end of the night, I can just roll over and fall asleep.  It strikes me how amusing it is that the first time I went to A’s on my own, he wasn’t even home!

As we were talking about him and his more grouchy nature as of late, we both commented how badly we want him to take a vacation.  It was really positive and quite obvious how much both of us love him and want him to be happy.  We talked about how she wants to plan a getaway and how I totally agree that they need to get away soon, preferably before her work ramps up to chaos levels again.  He needs to be removed from his crazy 14-18 hour days he’s been “on” lately, often seven days a week, and be forced to take care of himself.  I know that part of all this is that he really enjoys the people he works with and the challenges of running his business, but no one can burn a candle at both ends indefinitely, and he’s nearing the end of his wick.  Thankfully, a few days after this conversation, they booked a vacation, so they are heading out in a few weeks!

Somewhere in the conversation, I said “I want to go on a tropical vacation!” and A’s wife said: “I know A is looking forward to a time when you and he can go away together.  I anticipate that we will be doing staggering vacations or even all go on vacation together some time.”  This is music to my ears.  I have a ton of vacation days, and a reasonably flexible schedule if I can plan in advance, and A doesn’t have either.  So being able to share his vacation days with him would be ideal.  This led to us talking about possibly coordinating a camping trip in the summer and a winter vacation next year.   

Logistics and finances might not make it possible, but I love the potential of being able to travel with my love and not take precious time away from his wife and family.  I love the idea of having a polycule that enjoys each other’s company instead of just accepts each other.  I also just really like the idea that I could spend more than a weekend with A, allowing us to relax into each other.  Regardless, it won’t be for some time, but really it’s just the thought of it, the acceptance of me as an important part of A’s life, and the idea that brought me joy.  On top of that, the fact that A’s wife and I are becoming friends is important to me and brings me great happiness.  It’s one less complication in our already wonderful relationship.  

All of this has brought me a lot of calm and happiness recently.  Add to this the stabilizing and supportive force that is S and I’m quite cognizant of what I have in both of them.  So much so, I have deactivated my OKC account and just taken a step back.  I realized how important it is to me to have the uncomplicated relationships I do have, and I’m not interested in having someone disrupt what I’ve obtained.  So it has to be perfect to work and online dating doesn’t facilitate that.  I’ve been working on an old FWB for a return to that arrangement and I suspect it will happen soon.  I also sort of reconnected with M this week – I have no intention of dating him again, but I could handle having him as a casual partner.  A gorgeous black FWB.  All this together had me laughing about how I have A and S and a bit of vanilla (the old FWB) and a bit of chocolate (M).  I think I’m hilarious. It’s OK if you don’t.

Before I got together with M a few days ago. I told A and S both that I would be getting together with him, and that we would likely end up naked.  Both were completely accepting.  A teased me a little, and I said: “I can’t help it, he’s pretty”, and he said: “I know, and you shouldn’t have to control it!”  The next day, I got a message from S in the morning, and she said: “I hope you got fucked hard last night!”, and when I told A that I fucked M again, he said: “Yeah you did!”

This, the ability to be myself, talk honestly and openly about my relationships and my desires, to go out and know that if I follow my desires, heart, or careless whims, I won’t be having a difficult conversation because of it, is amazing.  I realized that I have spent so much time in my previous relationships concerned about how things I want to do will affect the people I’m dating, that I was preventing myself from doing things that would make me happy.  I’m not saying that it’s not important to consider how my actions will affect my loves, because of course I do.  I would never want to do anything to hurt anyone I care about, but the fact is, A and S are both so confident and understanding and compersion-filled, that I never have to worry that they will be anything but supportive.  That is an amazing thing to have.

This support comes out so much in S.  I talk to her about everything and so this often means talking about A and how many of my other partners have felt about him.  I talked to her about O’s jealousy and L’s anger, and everything in between, and as I talked, I realized some things that are absolutely, incredibly important.  First, S loves my relationship with A. She gets it.  She encourages it and is full of compersion from it.  Second, all these people who have had concerns with A have all been the people who have either disrespected my autonomy or questioned my judgement, and worse, violated major boundaries.  One thing A has never done?  Violated a boundary.  Over a year later, I trust him implicitly, because he has shown me week after week that he respects me, loves me, and values me.  I have only to ask for what I need and he gives it to me.  He is honest, communicates well, and is completely reliable.  So, what I think about all those partners that disliked him?  Well, fuck them, really.  He’s still in my life because he has never hurt me.  Let that sink in.  There’s a reason over a year later I haven’t lost my attraction to him in the least.  The fact that S gets all this?  Well, that’s one of the many things on the long list of reasons I love her.

Being accepted as I am, by A and S, and having my relationships accepted by the people in our lives is so incredibly uplifting.