I can see how it looks that way. And I’ve honestly searched myself and tried to figure out if that is, in fact, true. His ex would say yes, that’s exactly what I did. She would say “I told you so.”
But of course, that isn’t actually what happened. What happened is that I fell in love with a man who is polyamorous, and we tried to build a poly family. When his wife kicked me out of their family, I was so completely broken that almost two years later I still cry when I think about it. And this situation terrified me out of ever wanting to be in a situation like that again.
Meanwhile, Papa Bear feels that things only imploded because he and The Wifey were never really compatible to begin with. And as long as he chooses women he’s compatible with in the future (the defining characteristic of women he goes for now is “chill”), there should never again be a situation where feelings are hurt, ultimatums are thrown down, rights are violated and everyone gets their hearts broken.
But I need to make sure that I am not violating HIS rights. That I am now not throwing ultimatums down. This is a weird example, but it reminds me of this episode of Big Love (I puffy pink heart that show). Bill’s First Wife tells him that she agreed to polygamy because it was important to him, but that he has already added two new wives and she will never accept a fourth. Bill wants to be open to the possibility of as many wives as he happens to fall in love with and thinks would be a good fit for their family, but Barb says “Fuck no. I have two sister-wives, and there will be NO MORE.”
What is the difference between stating your own boundaries, and violating another person’s freedom? For me, I feel like Barb, even though Papa Bear isn’t in any other serious relationships right now. It’s weird because I do this crazy thing where I project into the future, and it causes me all kinds of misery (more on that at another time.)
I know, know, know that it is impossible to see my future, but I can’t help trying to picture it. And polyamory is instability–at least if your loop remains open (ie, you are continually willing to bring in new partners). So I want to be extra clear when I say, that when I told Papa Bear that if he and I were to ever build a future based on us I’d need him to stop adding in other women, I meant I cannot live a life that is constantly at risk of being capsized by another polyamory related disaster.
That when I get to the good years–the years where I am no longer beaten down and exhausted by all of my daily responsibilities, the years when I can do what I want–that my life and the people I share it with need to be stable. If he has another girlfriend and we all love each other then great. If not, I would strongly prefer that he stop the merry-go-round and be happy with what he has.
Before this most recent relationship crisis, I was gone from the blog for a pretty long time. A lot of shit happened and I’m not sure I want to talk about the bad and the ugly, but here’s a bit of an update:
Boss Man: Boss Man is no longer my Boss Man. He’s no longer my boss because I finally found a new job (!!!) and he’s no longer my man because I kind of ended everything. Leaving my job was long overdue and I found something with much more room for advancement, better benefits, and steady pay increases. Professionally, I’m much happier. Personally, not seeing Boss Man every day has really helped me. For awhile we continued to talk daily, and saw each other occasionally (sometimes we fooled around, sometimes we didn’t) but then something happened. He started to have problems with his girlfriend, Tinder Girl, and suddenly it was like I was his therapist. I wanted to be there for him and I was, pretty much 24/7. In the middle of the night. All day. When I was hanging out with my family, or on a date with Papa Bear, he was texting me. I started to tell him when I was busy but he just kept texting, over and over and over, asking for advice on him and Tinder Girl, talking about how miserable he was, sending sad song lyrics, talking about wishing he and I could be together.
It got to be too much. I finally broke when my mom was visiting. It was beyond stressful having my uber-religious, mentally ill mother in my home, judging me day and night, but he continued to hammer away at me with his own problems.
I found out my husband doesn’t just have a low sex-drive, but actually doesn’t like sex (something I don’t think we can ever really work through), and he continued to spam me with messages.
I felt like things with Papa Bear were falling apart, and as I was dealing with it, he continued to text me.
Finally, I just told him I was too stressed out to help him with his relationship problems at the moment. I tried to be nice, but honestly I was kind of angry. He had never been there for me the way that I was there for him those weeks and months, and I know he never would be, because (as he readily admits) he is selfish.
He continued to text, and I just started to ignore him, and eventually he stopped altogether. Its been maybe a week or two since I’ve heard from him, and I’m not sad. I think not seeing him every day allowed me the space I need to get over our ill-advised, mess of a relationship, finally.
We moved! Yay! I bitched many, many times on here about hating my crappy apartment, and finally this spring we found a town house to move into. My kids have their own bedrooms, we have a yard, I have a basement, my own laundry room, a little garden. I could not be happier about that 🙂 When The Husband and I had just about given up on ever finding anywhere affordable, in the right part of town, Papa Bear just kept at it. He sent me links to rentals and even made phone calls and took me on viewing appointments. He was awesome, and I am so grateful for him. He helped us find our house.
Next, barring any other urgent happenings, I’ll talk about sex. I know you’ve all been wondering!
Another sexless lunch. Another totally appropriate hangout at a downtown pub. We sat close at a high, tiny table, and talked music, tattoos, movies and relationships. At the end we hugged goodbye. I’m pretty freaking proud of us.
Going out for a drink with boss man after work. It will be the second time since we’ve made up. Last time nothing happened except a hug and a kiss on the cheek. We haven’t slept together or been sexual at all since admitting we still love each other. We are trying to be comfortable with that love while not ruining our lives. We shall see.
This is the reason I keep fooling around with Boss Man: to try to recapture our first time. It is such an insanely good memory. Like candy, so sweet.
I keep wanting that again, but I don’t know if I can ever have it again. I want the teasing. The playfulness. The passion. The curiosity and the banter. The completely inconceived and unfounded hope that just maybe, this could be something.
That hope has been dashed. Stomped on. Thoroughly decimated. But I keep holding on. I want him to hold me all night. Kiss me like he’s drowning and I’m his last hope. Fuck me like he’s been wanting this for a year and is desperate to have me.
But we have no future, and we know that now. I know that. I know he can be cruel. That he can hurt me like very few can. That he can turn his emotions on and off like a light switch, while I flounder and flail, trying to keep up, to understand, to hold on, to let go. I know all of this.
And yet, when he says he wants me again, I can’t help but want to say “Yes.” Because I hope that this time he will hold me. That he will mumble sweet things into my neck. That he will love me again, and erase the times between the first time and now, where I just felt like a used, dirty whore.
That I will somehow be able to justify what we’ve done, because again I’ll feel like it’s love. And love is messy and complicated and doesn’t follow rules like “do not cheat on your girlfriend.”
I don’t think I’ll ever have that again. The beautiful, passionate, true story of our affection, our lust, our discovery of one another, finally, after months and months of longing.
But I want it so badly. To bookend what we had/have with something that is not dirty, but is messy and painful and lovely and sweet.
Ok. I’ve got it. I have no close friends and no real family to speak of. I have my husband but as amazing as he is, I try not to lean on him too much because he has a lot of his own demons to deal with. His lows can cause me to spiral, and mine can do the same to him, so we’re careful with each other.
My two best friends live on the other side of the country and I haven’t seen them in two years. Even when I lived back home we were in different cities and saw each other a few times a year tops. I miss them so much and I’m so lonely.
I don’t share much with work friends because most people wouldn’t get the poly thing so I leave them at arms length. When I spend enough time with them to realize they’d judge my life if I told them, I stop hanging out with them.
I tried to form a poly family and that was a disaster. It led to so much heartache for all of us that I really seriously doubt ever wanting to attempt something like that again.
Then there’s Boss Man and he has been close to me since the beginning. We right away felt like we could be open with and trust each other. Yes there was a sexual attraction and a really strong connection that isn’t quite “in love” and isn’t quite friendship but something else unnamable. And I was lonely and sad and I asked him to fuck me.
Whatever was between us caught fire and exploded and expanded and took on a life of its own. And since then we have been trying to make sense of it.
Maybe we’re in love or maybe we’re soul mates or maybe we’re just sexy friends or maybe we’re best friends or maybe we hate each other. Maybe he’s using me for sex or maybe I’m using him for sex or maybe we’re just both unimaginably fucked up and can’t help self destructing together.
Today I finally talked to him about it. I told him I felt like I had no real friends, and he was not my friend. That he’d only spend time with me if he wanted sex and that he keeps blowing me off when we make plans to hang out.
He told me he feels like I only want sex, or that if we hang out together we’ll end up back at his place fucking and be back to square one.
I told him the way things are is making me feel used, and that is would really prefer to just be his friend but I feel like sex is the only way to get him to spend time with me.
So. No more sex. No more kissing or ass grabbing or dirty texts. Not because we feel guilty or because we don’t want to get fired or because we have no future. Not because of external situations. Because we want to be in each other’s lives and fucking just screwed it up.
The thing is, that it’s all so horribly unbalanced. He texts me any time he wants and I respond immediately and talk for as long as he wants to. If I text him and he doesn’t feel like talking, he just doesn’t reply.
He won’t make plans with me in advance (or he will, and then cancel), but he thinks he should be able to tell me to come over any time and I will (I don’t, because I’m usually busy by the time he gets around to asking, but then I spend hours wishing I was wherever he is).
I have been going through a very unhappy period. Everything has felt wrong. I don’t want to wake up, I don’t want to go to work, and I don’t want to stay home either. I don’t want to find another job. I don’t want to socialize. I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to be me. That is what it felt like.
And then…we hooked up again. At work. He fingered me against a wall and we kissed and then he lifted me onto the counter and kissed me again.
And the next morning I wanted to get out of bed. I wanted to see him. I told myself over and over again that it was just going to hurt, that this changed nothing. I begged myself to see reason–asking myself over and over, “Have you not cried ENOUGH???”
I have. I have cried enough. So what the holy fucking hell is wrong with me?
Why did I let him take me home and cum in my mouth? Why did I not tell him to fuck off and never talk to me again, when he refused to cuddle with me after because he broke his phone and it was more important to go get his phone repaired THAT INSTANT than to take ten minutes to at least pretend that I hadn’t just been horribly used?
Why am I waiting around for him to tell me if he wants to see me this weekend? So that maybe THIS time he’ll hold me, which is all I actually want?
There is something in me that is fundamentally broken. This is all just proof that I should stay away from broken people. I already have healthy relationships, and something inside me still wants this sick, twisted thing.
I don’t get it.
I save the selfies he sends me and email them to myself so no one finds them on my phone. When he’s being particularly shitty I have awful fantasies about telling his girlfriend about us. I never will, because I don’t have it in me, but it makes me feel better to pretend I have even a modicum of control.
And yet I have been here before. Where it’s all wrong and it hurts too much and I should just run as fast as I can in the other direction, but I don’t until I’m literally so fractured and bruised that I couldn’t continue even if I wanted to.
But why is he so good to me sometimes, and so bad to me others? Why is he so hot and cold? How he can make me feel so precious and yet so utterly irrelevant–even as a friend?
Why can’t I just be the one to push him away, for once?
It occurs to me that I am not handling the end of the affair very well. It’s not horrendously painful anymore, but I haven’t moved on. My feelings for him don’t completely overwhelm me or drive me insane, but they are still there.
I want to be neutral towards him but I’m not. When he tells me he is pretty sure he and Tinder Girl are going to break up before the end of the month, I have to actively discourage myself from hoping that’s true. Because even if they do break up, and even if we started up again, it would just lead to more pain and misery down the road.
I desperately want to spend time with him, and it’s a little pathetic. He might mention that maybe we can do something on the weekend and even though he is notorious for bailing, I will either leave my weekend open and he won’t see me, or I’ll make plans and then he’ll want to see me. It always happens that way. It’s probably for the best, but I can’t help just wanting to know him better. I just want to soak up all the him-ness that I can, even just as his friend.
It’s not a very healthy situation. I cannot just put my phone away or say “Okay, I’m going out now, talk to you later” when he is texting me. I crave being able to talk to him, to the detriment of everything else.
At work, I literally live by his moods. Today I was dancing and I caught him looking at me, with that look, that “I fucking love you” look, and it made me so happy. And then in the afternoon I tried to joke around with him and he completely ignored me. I wanted to steer clear of him from then on because it is so bad how he affects me. Then he started sending me selfies, and instant mood boost. I’m fucking bi-polar for him. It’s sick.
I am looking for a new job, but no luck so far. I need professional help.