I’ve been waffling on whether to write about what’s been going on with me lately. I mean, it’s all very personal and very confusing and not at all sexy. What I really want is to just get past everything that’s going on so that I can start creating (and writing) sexy stories for you again. But part of what you get with this blog, along with the erotic details of my life, is a glimpse into the mind of a real person with real problems. So I guess I’ll just go ahead and lay it all out there.
Where do I start? Well, I’ll just throw the obvious one out there: I’ve moved out. I guess you could say Lucky and I are separated. It’s meant to be temporary. It’s an experiment to force us to work on some problems that have been there for some time, but have been easy to ignore with all of the other things going on in our lives. The problem isn’t that we fight or that we don’t love each other. Lucky and I adore each other and are still very much in love. But for some time now we’ve acted more like roommates than husband and wife. We see each other very rarely, and when we do spend time together it lacks the passion we once had. I think we both just blamed busy lives and a romantic rut, and figured it would get better over time. But it never did. I finally decided that it was time to force a resolution. The scary part is, I don’t know for sure if that resolution will result in me moving back in with my husband. Actually, that isn’t just scary…it’s terrifying.
I didn’t just decide that this problem needed attention out of nowhere. Admittedly, there were some catalysts. Several months ago, I ended a very intense, passionate relationship with Vincent – someone who is very special to me. As is common with those fiery, passionate relationships, we crashed and burned in a big way so that today we are barely even friends. The loss of Vincent and that passion left me feeling empty, and instead of turning to the person that should have been my anchor, I tried to fill that void with more dating (in part because my anchor was never around). It almost worked, but once the buzz of the new flings started to fade it all felt so meaningless. I started to realize that I wasn’t interested in casual dating anymore. I even wondered if I wanted to be non-monogamous anymore. I was slipping into an identity crisis and was afraid to talk about it with anyone because I felt like questioning my personal relationship style was the same as questioning the validity of the lifestyle in general. I firmly believe that polyamory is a valid and natural lifestyle, but I can’t say for sure it’s right for me anymore. However, being poly had been such a huge part of who I was for the past 6 years that I wasn’t sure I knew who I would be without it, and the thought of being only with Lucky with the current state of our relationship was…well…just out of the question.
My crisis was paused temporarily when I fell into an unexpected relationship with Kris. He was someone unlike anyone I’d ever dated before. I was amazed that two people who were so different could get along so well, but we did. We had some amazing times. Every time we were together was a new experience for me, and I felt like I was learning about parts of myself that I never knew existed. I was excited about the adventures we would have in the future and where this relationship might go, but there was another element to this relationship that was new and surprisingly – confusingly – comfortable. He told me fairly early on that he had no interest in dating other people and it was clear that he preferred for me not to date others, as well (Lucky excepted). At first I was afraid that this would be stifling and put too much pressure on me. After all, it’s been over 6 years since I’ve been someone’s “one and only.” I didn’t have the confidence that I, alone, could fulfill someone’s needs and desires. But, at the same time, I found it surprisingly comforting. I’d been struggling with a growing distaste for casual dating and polyamory, and now I’d fallen into a relationship that almost gave me an excuse to step away from those things. Of course, I was still technically polyamorous. I was very much in love with Lucky, and at the same time I was falling hard for this new person. But that was all I needed. No, it wasn’t just all I needed, it was everything I needed. I was completely fulfilled. I was happy. I didn’t want to date anyone else. I believed that this might be the solution to my identity crisis. I believed I could be happy indefinitely with these two wonderful men in my life and no one else. I was still poly, I was just a different kind of poly. This was something easier for me to accept and understand. And then, just as I thought everything was going so well, the rug was pulled out from under me. Kris ended the relationship.
Despite how well we were getting along, I knew that the relationship was a long shot from the very beginning. I believe that a propensity for polyamory is as much a part of a person’s core being as their sexuality. And, while some people are very naturally polyamorous, others are very naturally monogamous (and still others can be happy either way or swing back and forth throughout their lives). I don’t feel that either lifestyle is better than the other, I only feel that societal predjudices often prevent people from exploring alternatives to monogamy that may be more suited to them. It was clear to me from the very beginning that he was naturally monogamous. It was the reason it was so difficult for us to get together in the first place. But I foolishly thought that our attraction to each other – both physical and emotional – would help us find a way to make it work. If I’d realized that being wrong would have been so devastating, I probably wouldn’t have allowed myself to try this experiment. I guess I didn’t realize how much I had to lose.
On a dreary Tuesday afternoon, after several days of heart-wrenching silence, we met at a coffee shop and he told me it was over. It wasn’t that he didn’t care for me, he explained. He just couldn’t live with being second best. He didn’t want to feel like he was constantly competing for my affection with other people. As he explained how he’d been feeling, I sipped my tea and held back my tears. I didn’t tell him that i had no interest in those other people. I didn’t tell him that, despite my deep love for my husband, he wasn’t second best. I didn’t tell him that I was madly in love with him and, if he’d only give it more of a chance, we could find a way to make this work. I just let him go. He’d obviously done a lot of painful soul searching to reach this conclusion, and I felt that it would have been selfish to try to change his mind. And so I just sat there in a daze and tried to be understanding. It wasn’t until we hugged goodbye that I started to break and the tears started to form in my eyes. But I managed to wait until he was out of sight before I truly broke down.
What had just happened? I’d lost something – someone – who made me very happy for reasons that didn’t even feel real anymore. He couldn’t be with me because I was polyamorous and married, but my marriage was – to put it bluntly – a sham and I didn’t even know if I wanted to be polyamorous anymore. And the worst part was that the friendship I’d cherished was also gone. Sure, we said we’d still be friends, but he pulled away so drastically that I knew things would never be the same. I was left with nothing but a huge void and a growing self-loathing that was truly frightening. I went on a self-destructive binge of drinking, drugs, and despair. One night I found myself in such a deep, dark place that I knew I had to make some changes soon or I would hurt myself.
So here I am. I’m taking time away from my home and my marriage to rediscover who I am and what I want. I’m forcing Lucky and I to make an effort to spend time together and truly appreciate it. Soon I will start counseling. Admittedly, I’m still in the midst of my self-destructive binge. I can’t remember the last time I was sober for an entire day. But I hope that this drastic life change, along with some professional guidance, will help me figure out what I need to be happy – and sexy – again.