Sometimes people tell themselves things.
I posted a rather stupid comment on my grown daughter’s Facebook page that implied something I honestly hadn’t meant. I was trying to be funny and failed. The dog walker jumped on there and called me out and said something to the effect of “shame on you. (Ex-hubby) and (daughter) are father and daughter!” I replied that it wasn’t her business and that I knew they were father and daughter since I helped raise my daughter since she was 7. But I realized my comment was kinda stupid and apologized to my ex and my daughter and deleted it.
The dog walker sent a message to me saying it was her business because my daughter is her family and my ex and my daughter belong to her now. Um. Okay. Like they are cows. It’s not like I think my ex is mine at all, in any shape or form. I get that my daughter is also becoming the dog walker’s family. This is natural. They are in each other’s lives daily and likely care a great deal about each other. More people loving and treating my daughter well is awesome in my book. My daughter becoming family is awesome, but it doesn’t make her any less my family too. And as I said here many times, I genuinely liked the dog walker. I think she’s a good fit for The ex and she was always really nice. I’m honestly not sure what beef she could have with me. I never talk to her, have no dealings with her, talk to my ex (her boyfriend) hardly ever, and have never said a negative thing about her. I’m a grown-up. She was always amazing with my pets, and seemed like a genuinely nice person.
So, here’s the thing that puzzled me with this. When she sent her irate message, she started it with “your cheating is out in the open now”. Um.. yeah. I’d say me having sex outside my marriage is pretty fucking well documented. I’ve been writing a blog about it for 3 years now and it has gotten over 120,000 hits and has 750 or so regular prescribers. I am out to pretty much everyone. My husband and I told our families we were open. Even a few people at my work know. It’s not a secret. I had sex with others.
Guess what? So did my husband. Shit, we fucked some of them together. Not only that, we loved other people. We both had full and deep and meaningful relationships with others. And it was my ex-husband’s idea to do so. I jumped super enthusiastically at it, but he endorsed it because he learned polyamory it and thought it fit him. We had talked about swinging on and off for years and it wasn’t ever really his gig. He still loves his ex, Tammy, and he still loves his ex, Shelly. One of the first things he did when we opened up was talk to both of them about being open and make little plans. He was honest about his desire to see them again if he could work it out. Shit, with my blessing he started talking about sleeping with our friend Nicole. He planned to sleep with his friend Tamera in Vegas too. He and Tamera exchanged some nice flirts. They’d always had a thing for each other and he figured it’d be hot to have fun when he goes to Vegas for business. Further, my ex-husband realized he had loved the sexy and wonderful woman who had lived with us for a good long time and been in love with us. She was the same woman I had loved too in fact and we’d stupidly missed out on being with her because he and I weren’t honest.
When we opened up he fucked RollerGirl on their first date. I fucked Kinky Boy on ours too. We spent the night with these others. My ex fucked RollerGirl hundreds of times and considered her one of the greatest sexual partners of his life. She was sex on a stick! She was amazing! That woman.. oh man. She was flexible and orgasmic and creative and wild and wonderful. But more importantly he loved her. He loved her madly. They talked all the time about everything. They were affectionate and sweet and loving and had a pretty cool thing. Then I dated both of them. I fucked them, together and separately. It was hot. It was wonderful. We were giddy with love and sex and friendship. Everyone was crazy about everyone. We had pie-in-the-sky dreams about duplexes and forever. I told him that if he and RollerGirl had kids I’d divorce him and they could marry so she’d have his health insurance. We were happy. One of my favorite sex memories was this great moment when we were all playing around and having fun in bed and my ex shot RollerGirl right between the eyes when he came. It was HOT.. and funny. It’s not like any of it was a secret or against any of our commitment to each other. I loved him. I WANTED him to have all the love and fun and sex and adventure. I had my times when I struggled.. because I have insecurities, but I felt for the most part like things were very secure. I loved them loving each other. I loved them fucking each other. I licked his balls and her pussy while they fucked. I rejoiced when they had a sex act I couldn’t because I’d never been able to give it to him. I loved their sexual chemistry.
Kinky boy and I were short lived and I dated others, fucking and falling for Great Date and Traveler. I slept once with a guy named Blue Flame here, and right before Hubby and I split I’d started seeing Cleveland. Around the same time Hubby started seeing a rocker chick that shared a ton of his interests and that he very much enjoyed dating and fucking. They didn’t work out long term because they were too different, but they had fun. Right after we separated he started to date the dog walker. I told him all of my stuff and had his blessing. He lied to me about her. I think it’s pretty clear to Hubby and me and everyone involved that Hubby and I weren’t sexually monogamous.
So, what the fuck. I’m a cheater? And what does it mean it’s out in the open? Does she imagine she knows something that others don’t? Trust me. I did not confide anything in the dog walker. We weren’t best friends. We didn’t share confidences. And what the holy hell does any of that mean? “You told me secrets as your dog walker and I kept them, but now I’m telling everyone because I didn’t like a comment you made on Facebook”? “I didn’t like it so much I’m going to tell everyone about your escapades because I don’t like you telling me your relationship with your grown daughter isn’t my business”?
How weird is that?
Maybe she’s upset that she’s living in my house and sitting on my furniture and eating from my dishes and fucking in the bed that RollerGirl and I fucked on? Maybe she doesn’t like all the colors I painted the house or the pillows I picked out for the couches? Maybe she doesn’t like my candlesticks or my rug or my sheets or towels or the built-in-bookshelves I designed? Maybe my Van Gogh posters or all the things I bought my ex husband bother her? I don’t know. Maybe it’s hard to be in my space and she needs to assert herself.
Maybe she tells herself that my ex husband was tricked into polyamory or he did it under duress. Maybe he lies to her like he lied to me and RollerGirl when he wants to do something or doesn’t want to have to own something. Maybe she’s already caught him in lies… little things.
Maybe she needs to think that all those years we loved each other were somehow negated.
Well. That’s too bad. Because they aren’t. If my ex husband lives to be 90 and they spend 45 beautiful years together it won’t erase the 13 that he and I had. It doesn’t work that way. But the beautiful thing is that it doesn’t have to. Even if they broke up tomorrow, nobody can ever take away the couple of years they’ve had either. What they have is special and separate and different. Even if they did the same pastimes and hobbies and sex acts and trips we did they’d still be different. Their dynamic isn’t our dynamic. She brings herself to his life and she is unique and whole and separate and has never been and never will be in competition with me or RollerGirl or Tammy or Shelly or Tamera or Nicole. People can tell themselves whatever they want, but it’s not the truth.
The truth is that the ex and I loved each other, madly, passionately, desperately. We healed each other and went through some of the toughest challenges of our lives together. Even up till about 9 months before the end we had undeniable sexual chemistry. ALL of our friends talked about it. It came off of us in waves. I could get lost kissing that man and I made him hard with just my whisper. We went through the challenges of times with our daughters and put each other through school. We built a life and then tore it down and nothing anyone will ever do will ever bring that back. And nothing anyone will ever do will erase it. I go through my times when I’ve wanted to make the ex the angel or the demon of things and I’ve told myself things at times to cope. It was hard. But the truth is simply the truth. I couldn’t erase any of his passions or his loves and he can’t erase me either, though I imagine he would if he could sometimes.
He’s choosing to be monogamous with the dog walker because he wants to and it’s a relationship style that better suits him. I’m so glad he found someone to be devoted too and I’m glad she seems to love him too. He wasn’t cut out for polyamory or open relationships and I was foolish and selfish and pig-headed to refuse to see that. I made so very many mistakes, but he did too. One might want to think it was all me, or a big mistake or this terrible thing he’s grateful to be over. One might think he was tricked or that he didn’t make the choices he made. One might think I never really knew him at all. One might think lots more things like that. But they’d be wrong. Telling ourselves pretty lies doesn’t make them true.
All the women that loved him before aren’t little puffs of smoke. It wasn’t that he was never loved until he had the dog walker. We are in there. We were real. And yes, he loved and fucked and wanted and needed and confided in and held us, and loves some of us still. It was real. But we are gone now. He chose her and I’m glad to see that makes him happy. And I could choose to tell myself whatever about that if I needed to. But I don’t. I’m glad he’s happy. I’m glad my daughter is happy.
So I’m telling myself that her really odd comment doesn’t matter. My cheating IS out in the open. I cheated on my first husband and on a couple of boyfriends. Cheating is not a lifestyle that suits me and and it made me deeply unhappy. I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a cheater.
Only Hubby could figure out how to be a cheater in an open relationship. Only HE snuck RollerGirl over to fuck while I was at work and then lied about it. Only he dated someone in secret. So I’m telling myself that she can tell herself whatever she needs to. It’s actually none of my business.