Raggedy AnnPosted: March 6, 2015
For me, it seems, self-control is a very delicate thing. I’m like a cloth doll. If I pull one loose stitch, I fall completely apart.
I met a stranger for sex today.
I got drunk on his couch, then his bed, in the middle of the afternoon.
I went home, and after my kids went to sleep, made a run for beer and cigarettes.
I quit smoking cigarettes right before I met Papa Bear. I quit having casual sex when I met him, too.
And now I am drinking in the afternoon, fucking strangers, and smoking.
The Stranger talked to me today. I mean, really talked. He went to hell and back for the mother of his daughters, even building a basement suite so she’d have somewhere to live with they separated. She preferred to do drugs than work or take care of his girls, so he took them.
He had a similar situation with his ex-gf, who he bought a trailer for so she wouldn’t be sleeping on peoples’ couches.
When I asked him how he spends his weekends, he mentioned indoor playgrounds. Skiing with his kids. Taking his girls to the country to wander the family farm.
He could be a horrible person, or at least a bit of an asshole, but I don’t think so. I think he is a good guy.
Why did he have to tell me all of that? Why couldn’t I just distract him with my mouth, or steer the conversation towards music or television?
I could like him. I already do. And I’m poly, so it should be okay. But its not okay.
I’m a disaster. I don’t have my shit together. I have two loving men who would each do anything for me, in their own way and according to their own abilities, and I have the ability to completely fuck up everything with my impulsiveness and constant need for affection and validation and sex.
I am not in a position to be dating anyone else. The Stranger and I talked about being fuck buddies, but he is already asking to pencil me in to go to shows. Offering to take me to the farm. This is why I shouldn’t fuck single men. They always seem to want girlfriends.
I shouldn’t be thinking about him. I really want Papa Bear’s arms around me right now, but he doesn’t have the car tonight. We are going shooting tomorrow.
Papa Bear doesn’t mind if I have a casual relationship with someone else. He doesn’t even mind if I fall for the guy, as long as he treats me right. But The Stranger is not poly and that is a huge red flag. They never get it. It’s never enough for them. Then again, when will it ever be enough for me?
It has been one day. One afternoon of sex and screwdrivers. And I already feel my life falling apart.
I want to run, fast, in the opposite direction, but I don’t know how.
Should I listen to my intuition? Or am I just a coward? Does it even matter? Do I need this? No.
What I need is to do yoga every day. I need to practice my ukelele. I need to work on my career. I need to take a photography class. I need so put my kids in swimming lessons. I need to spend time with my lovers. I need to study how zen philosophy can help me be less of a basket case. I need to cultivate discipline. I need to clean my house and do my laundry and keep up with my medical appointments and take my meds. Those are the things that I need to do, to be the kind of me that my husband and Papa Bear deserve.
Why can’t I just do that? Why is it so easy for me to unravel?