It’s Complicated

It’s always complicated. Isn’t it?

What is this thing between us? How many millions of ways do we ask this? Does he like me? What does she want? What is happening here? There really aren’t enough words and there are far too many.

 

  • friends with benefits
  • husband
  • friend
  • metamours
  • lovers
  • vixen
  • stag
  • cuckold
  • Dom
  • ex
  • boyfriend
  • unicorn
  • fuck buddy
  • paramour
  • sister wife
  • beau
  • fiance
  • significant other
  • bull
  • cuckquean
  • partner
  • primary
  • side chick
  • play partner
  • protector
  • swing circle
  • knight
  • special friend
  • anchor
  • secondary
  • great love
  • main squeeze
  • baby daddy
  • sugar daddy
  • Dom Daddy
  • baby mama
  • boytoy
  • little
  • my little secret
  • beard

Just scratching the surface really.

 

 

Starting the NEW blog

 

Some years ago we started asking ourselves questions. Does monogamy actually work for us? What does it mean if we want to touch other people? Have sex with other people? Have relationships or even love for more than one person?  Would having an orgasm with someone somehow erase what I have with this other person? Would it really?

Could I have sex with others?  Could people I care about have sex with others and we’d still be us?  What if I loved more than one person? At the time I was married, and swinging appealed to me. I had wanted to be a swinger pretty much since I’d learned about what it was. My husband at the time and I discussed it. He was interested at first, but quickly realized he would rather have relationships with others, and we learned about and became poly. And well.. I’m not going to lie. For a lot of reasons, not all of them polyamory, my marriage exploded.

But I was here and I was still poly. I had the capacity and interest in relationships with more than one person at a time. And over the years I had these polyamorous relationships. The most people I was ever dating at once was four, and I do not recommend it. It’s exhausting and basically I was always disappointing somebody.

I read and read and blogged and blogged and lived and talked and tried, and found that hierarchies weren’t for me. I didn’t like primaries and secondaries and never did. Even my husband and I when we first opened up felt that this wouldn’t work for us.  This doesn’t mean that my existing relationships and long term loves don’t have priority with me or that they don’t matter. I am very into honoring commitments and the investment of love and time and experience.  But I liked anyone I dated to be a whole person and to not be arbitrarily forever limited, no matter what, because someone met someone first. This is long and hard to explain. We’ll come back to it.

So.. I’ve been polyamorous for 5 years. And over the years I’ve had occasion to explore, my sexuality, life and all kinds of things. I’ve discovered I’m still interested in swinging and joined a club. I’ve also discovered I’m kinky, and explored that a little bit too. And over time I just kinda discovered that I didnt’ need and didn’t fit super neatly into any tiny box.

Like most humans, I’m complicated. I’m guessing so are you.

So finding myself at need to create a new blog for a variety of reasons I thought about the next chapter. What did I want to write? It wasn’t going to be just a blog on polyamory. And it wasn’t a blog just on swinging. Or a blog even just on dating.

Love, Sex and Relationships have always interested me and are fodder for an infinite stream of thought. It’s also a stream for profound connection and I’ve made so many friends here on this journey of ethical non-monogamy, of honest open relating. And it occurred to me this new little blog could be something else.

I could have blogs on all of these open sex and love and relationships, and could invite a friend to contribute here and there too. We could have interviews and podcasts and links. In non-monogamy, in so many ways we are all defining for ourselves what any of these words and labels mean, and how they fit us, if at all.  And we’re the architects of the connections we are creating. And that’s beautiful but it’s scary and difficult too. And I learn a lot from my friends, and hope you do too.

There’s a weird thing that happens when we start asking ourselves all of these questions. We find and create the love and sex and relationships we crave, and we walk off of the path that doing things the way we were told to creates.  I have found the blogger community so informative and supportive. Starting this new broader blog, I hope that continues.

However you got here and whatever brings you, welcome. I hope to hear from you in comments or emails or on facebook or twitter or any of the other places.

I’m so excited at this next chapter. Here’s to open love and sex and relationships. Here’s to new blogs.

– Thanks for reading!

Holly

He's Getting Remarried

Okay.. so.. I had the 5 year anniversary of my father passing, which was the same day as my old wedding anniversary to my now ex-husband.  If you are just joining this or don’t know the history, my ex and I were together for 13 years, married 11 of it and monogamous about 11 of it. We opened up and became poly, and he left me for his girlfriend that I had also been dating until he was too jealous of her and I to continue. He told me he couldn’t be poly, and then that he could, and again that he couldn’t. He began dating our old dog walker in secret while we were separated but talking about working it out.  We have been apart about 3 years now and are divorced.

third marriage

I did pretty well this anniversary and thought mostly of my father. I miss him, but it was somehow sweet this year to think of him, and not the aching pain of other times in my grief over him. It was good.

I messaged him and learned that he’d proposed to the dog walker and they were engaged. (He and the girl he left me for broke up in October of the year we separated and after we’d decided to divorce, and he’s monogamous with the dog walker since then).

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Comfort

I’ve been tired, so tired my love.  My mind is weary.  I felt like I’d drown in this and needed those few hours to dig in the dirt with you and to make my body ache.  I needed to quiet my mind and rest in the labor.  I needed our breath, and the sounds of us working, and the little smiles and dirty kisses and the sun that was there even if it was cloudy.  I needed to rest, but my mind won’t ease now.  There is too much to do and to think about and I’m thinking deadlines deadlines deadlines.  So I needed to just work with you.  I needed the comfort and ease of the way we work together.

I’ve felt a little distant from you love.  I’ve felt far away and too deep in my head with all of this work.  I’ve needed to linger and spend time looking at each other, but it’s time we don’t have.  Thank you for your little touches while we worked side by side later on the couch.  I needed those little smiles.  I needed those pets.  Soon love.  Soon.

Thank you for fantasizing with me a little afterward, for giving my mind something to chew on that wasn’t academic.  Thank you for knowing how to please me so well, for your warm skin and your soft kisses.  Oh, when you call be beautiful or pull me to you.  Oh when you trace my curves.  Oh god I was so tired but I could not stop touching you and being touched by you.  I love you I love you I love you on my breath and in my heart and my head.  I fell asleep sated and tired and ready for blissful sleep, such comfort.

snuggle

image from alligator-sunglasses.com

And thank you for not being able to get out of bed. Dozing in and out of sleep with you curled to me…. heaven.  Why can’t I ever stop touching you? Craving your touch?  So many little kisses.  Everywhere.  Your taste.  Your smile.  Your scent.  On my lips and in my breath and in my heart.  I love you I love you I love you.  The warm comfort of you lingers.

I’m so tired, love.  But we’re almost there.  You’re such a comfort.

The Crystal Ball Broke

 

It starts out whole, crystal clear and flawless.  It begins.  It is honed and shined and unblemished.  You made it and it’s beautiful. And then it comes, the first little crack. You said that and they knew what you were doing.  A small occlusion from the jarring.  But it wasn’t that bad. The sun still glints the same way.  The ribbon of refracted light is still perfect.

crack.

crick.

crack.

broken glass

mgtvwsls.files.wordpress.com

And the light bends.  The rays just don’t fall the same.  You’re losing colors..violet.. blue.. fading in your rakishly high tales.  It’s still shiny and see through.  It’s still beautiful.  It’s still a treasure.  The weight and heft are left.  The shape is still smooth.  You can see the ribbon in there but we all think it’s okay.  It’s just the tiniest bit of damage.  And you’re sorry.  That was a one time thing, right?  We were just scared or sorry or confused or not ready.  We were thoughtless.

snap.

crack.

The little bitty cracks add up though.  Each one is like a teeny ball peen hammer.. ting… ting…

It’s a small deep crevice there in the middle.  The rainbow leaves.  But it’s still bright.  It’s still light.  It slides and tumbles in your hand. We whistle in our fake nonchalance.  It’s fine.  It’s fine.  Still so smooth.  But is that a rift?

CRACK!

snip.

tinkle.

The rift has reached the edge and you can feel the craze.  Your fingers worry it like a loose tooth.  They run over it and over it but they can’t make it smooth.  It’s there.  And you’re losing light.  It’s getting trapped in there, bouncing around off of the things you broke, the jagged edges in there.  You tell another one.  It’s easier now and though the consequences are more dire, you’re less concerned.  Do you not see it?  Or do you just care less?

CRACK….. snap… tinkle.

A sliver is shaved off and falls.  The rift has veins in several directions now, so much closer to the surface, and the ragged creviced edge has its own facets.  Do you not know how to stop it?  Do you not see it?  A whole side is gray and lifeless, unreachable.  The light that enters mostly dies.  And it feels inevitable, doesn’t it?  You say another one, another.  You can’t even smile while you do it anymore, can you?  Do you shrug?  Do you sting?  Is it like you can’t help yourself? Or are you numb?

We point our palms at the ground and our walk works to pulverize the shards.

 

A Million Years Ago

shrek far far away

From Shrek- The Far Far Away Sign

A million years ago….

  1. I kissed you in the vacant lot and ran home breathless.
  2. I broke your heart because I wasn’t ready.
  3. I thought this was what relationships were and I didn’t know this was rare and special.  We danced all night.  We made love and when I called it that I didn’t giggle.  We said shit like “soulmates” and “forever” and I didn’t doubt for a second they were real.  Nobody had ever loved like we loved.  We sang songs to each other.  We took baths together and sat there until we were pruny.  You fucked her.  And you lied.  I felt worse about the lie because it meant we weren’t what I thought we were.  I walked away hurt and insecure.  I spent a decade feeling the image of you in an Indian blanket in our cold apartment, silent, as I dropped the key into your lap.
  4. I got her note. She was gone.  She needed to be with him.  She had a family back home. Wouldn’t I please understand?
  5. I fucked him at some party, the entire time wondering if the pool table took quarters… “mmmmhmm.. yes.. oh baby”.. does that pool table take quarters?  What is the mechanism to drop the balls if it doesn’t take quarters?
  6. I wondered if she’d ever love me back.
  7. I wanted to break it off but his dad had just died.  So I cheated. A lot. I felt more and more sick and when I broke up with him I thought I was doing him a favor.
  8. I couldn’t sleep with him because it would have been too real.
  9. She played with me next to my bed and I thought she liked me, but we never talked again.
  10. I liked him and he liked her and she liked someone else.
  11. He was a lot worse than I thought.  He was a lot worse.  He left a scar on my back from the event that changed my life.  He committed suicide years later, after hurting a lot more girls, and eventually going to prison.  He got out and killed himself.  I felt relieved that he wouldn’t hurt more girls and ashamed I’d been silent and hurt those girls.
  12. I waited a long time to touch him because I wanted to do things differently and when I finally touched him it just didn’t work and we couldn’t make it work so I broke his heart.
  13. He was my friend.  He was deeply honest and really flawed and fucked like a demon.  We talked about EVERYTHING with utter and complete honesty that wasn’t brutal because we bore no brutality.  It was the most comfortable I’d ever been with my body in his pure love of it.  You’re supposed to learn to love your body but I loved mine because he did.  We kept the lines really straight and loved each other for years, around and in between all the others, coming home.  We’ll never be lovers again, but I still consider him a friend.
  14. He left me for groupies and I met the women he’d cheated on me with when her boyfriend was cheating with me and I didn’t know it.  She and I were great friends for years.
  15. I loved him for his letters and got swept up in them and the things he created in them.  It was too late when I’d realized my mistake and I spent a long time trying to stick to my mistake.  When I could no longer be faithful and couldn’t be unfaithful, I left.  I like seeing his happy pics on Facebook.
  16. I never thought it would happen again, but it did.  I met him at Starbucks.  We shared a humor and a passion and loved each other through a million challenges and rewards.  We wrote love poems and songs and gave each other gifts of 100 kisses on post-its and notes hidden in lunches and suitcases and pockets.  For years I knew great love and great passion.  He was my best friend and I was his.  And we grew and grew and grew.  I wish I made him dinner more.  I’ve only learned that these past few years and I wish I’d learned it with him.  Some of the greatest and the worst days of my life were spent with him, and the love we had carried us through them.  With the end I wondered if I’d imagined it, but my box of letters tells me I didn’t. The passion never died until finally, that last year it did.  He told me she was too much and there was nothing left.  He wrote a poem based on a speaker we’d heard together when we were first dating, and redid it at times over the years to delight me. He used it again with the next women, which did not delight me. I don’t understand what happened really.  I make up theories and live with them and discard them because I’ll never know why.  I’m trying to accept that but it sits uneasily without ever having had my closure.  I read the things he said, to me, and later to others, the lies. He was intentionally cruel and admitted it.  And I’ll never understand.  That is not the man I loved. He replaced me and then replaced her.  He lied a lot to them too, and I’ll never understand it.  This is not the man I loved.  He is not the person I loved for so long and so well.
  17. In the midst of all of that I fell for him.  He seemed sweet and honest and clear, a relief in troubled times.  I loved his dazzling mind and the force of his love.  I fell hard and had a hard time letting go when the mask fell.  But I did.
  18. I fell for him so slowly and so well, my love sneaking in on quiet cat feet.  It took a long long time to know him and I’ll always be learning.  His kisses stayed dizzying, and his arms became home.  I love our adventures and our quiet nights and that we can get lost in each other doing absolutely nothing.  And then he told her he’d leave me if she asked him to.  I’m still not totally sure why it changed either, but suddenly all the things we were talking about for our future were different.  All of the little plans we were playing with were off the table.  He didn’t want what he said he wanted anymore.  Or he wanted it differently.  I wondered if I got this love wrong, if it wasn’t what it seemed.  I didn’t get it wrong.  It’s just complicated to live with all of our commitments and honor and complexities of life and history and it’s hard to navigate for women with a past.  There are a lot of moving parts.  It’s beautiful and hard sometimes, but he’s worth it.  Eventually it came that he would not trade me for the wishes of anyone on Earth, and I know it in my marrow.  He’s part of the family I’m making.  I sometimes miss the surety of when I was a girl, or think maybe other ways might be easier.  But then reality reminds me that relationships are always complicated.  Grown up love is complex and beautiful and long-awaited and deep… if you’re lucky.

I’m lucky.

shrek and fiona in love

Shrek and Fiona ride off into the sunset. From the movie Shrek and found at http://basementrejects.com/

 

I'm Actually a Romantic

I have a cold, so maybe this is the meds talking.. but I have to confess that I’m a romantic.  Don’t fucking laugh.  I’m serious.

Even a poly girl.. shit.. maybe especially a poly girl is prone to this.  My heart is huge.  My heart is wide.

Even a poly girl.. shit.. maybe especially a poly girl is prone to this.  My heart is huge.  My heart is wide.

Traveler and I are deeply, madly, passionately in love with each other.  It took 8 billion years, but he says it all the time.  I’ve always been a mush who says it.  Such proclamations don’t come easy to him.  He told me 72,000 ways that he loved me and I finally heard it.  But I needed him to TELL me.  I need the words.  And they came.  They come more easily now.  I need him to say, out loud, what he feels and he does.

And yet, I’ll admit, I have a yearning.  It isn’t because of a lack.  It’s not because Traveler doesn’t go there or isn’t enough.  It’s because of me.

I want more.

I want to find my other love.  I want to watch TV curled up with her, or go to the library on Saturdays with him.  I want to be too lazy on a rainy afternoon together.  I want to hit the art show.  I want to say mushy mushy things to each other with our limbs entertwined.  I want all of it.  Traveler is mine.  He is fully and completely mine even if he isn’t mine alone.  And I am his.  I am utterly and totally his.  But I have this wide wide heart.  I have this well of love that constantly fills, and I want more.

cuddling girls

girls snuggling found at polyvore.com

Even after all these years in open relationships that still feels subversive.  How can I be so greedy?  How can I have this.. THIS!.. and ever want more.  Am I unsatisfied? No.  If the other loves never came I have to admit that would be perfectly okay.  I have my life.  I have my life with Traveler.  And it’s everything.   I told him the other day when we were laying on the couch just laughing and holding each other that I’ve never been loved like this.  I’ve never had a love that held me like that.  He holds me in a way that makes me feel like I am filling.  I am flooded with all the good hormones and I feel myself glow.

We were talking about nothing really, just laughing and petting each other. There wasn’t any music on and the TV was off and we’d be laying there just talking for a long long time and neither one of us wanted out.  I’ve never had that.  I’ve never had the love that doesn’t pull away.  I’ve spent my life apologizing for being too affectionate.  I didn’t know how much that hurt.  I pulled away to sip my wine and he curled around me the second the glass touched down, unconsciously and not breaking the stride of his conversation.  And I lay curled against him smiling and laughing with him until it was getting really late and we needed to go to bed.

And

I have more to give.

The trick is to remain open but not to chase it.  But I’m calling it to me.  I am a greedy lover.  I want the whole thing again.  The first step is admitting it.

I’m a romantic.