When Papa Bear and I met, he was casually dating another woman, who we’ll call the Yummy Mummy. She got really busy at the advent of their relationship (got married, got pregnant, marriage issues and started attending therapy) so they decided to just be friends.
For three years they talked and hung out, and I met her a few times, and instantly had a rapport with her, too. And then she her new husband and their family moved across the country, where things proceeded to get really, really tough for her.
This summer she came home to stay with her parents for awhile and brought the four kids with her. And she realized that her marriage is abusive and she doesn’t want to go back.
Though she and Papa Bear decided to be “just friends”, their relationship has always been sexually charged, and he loves her. So when she came back, for what we thought was a visit, they hooked up. And then she decided to stay.
This made me really scared and uncomfortable, for a lot of reasons. Knowing what I know about her situation, I think staying is the right choice for her, for sure. But suddenly, somewhere along the line between my boyfriend texting her during our dates, and buying her diapers and formula because her no-good crazy-ass husband wouldn’t let her have any money, alarm bells started going off in my head.
And then one Saturday Papa Bear told me he was spending the day with Yummy Mummy, so I asked if we could get together later, and he invited me to hang out with them. But then he came back saying she’d like a couple hours alone with him, but I could come by after that. So instead of all of us hanging out together like she’d been saying she wanted to ever since she got back into town, I told him that since he’d spent the day with her and her family at a festival, and was spending part of the evening alone with her, and since she needed alone time with MY BOYFRIEND, then I’d rather him come get me and have me over after she was done with him. Because at that point I needed alone time with him too, to talk about what the mother of fuck was going on.
Was I jealous? Yes, for sure. Jealousy is something I have always struggled with and probably always will, but it wasn’t just that. It was the fact that while pretending to each other and everyone else that they were “just sexy friends”, it became clear to me that they were actually in a pretty serious relationship. Like I woke up one morning and found out that I had another metamour and didn’t have ANY time to emotionally prepare for that.
I was not happy. When I finally got to Papa Bear’s house, late into the evening, I told him how I felt and how scared I was. Not just that I was upset that they weren’t being honest with anyone (or even admitting to themselves) what their relationship actually was, but that I didn’t understand where this could go, or why he would even date her. It’s not that she’s not great, but she is monogamous. She says she will never be in another polyamorous relationship again–the only reason she was doing it to begin with was because her husband isn’t monogamous.
While it’s true that there’s no future with her (unless of course he decided to leave me for her and shut down the poly thing), there was also the glaring issue of her being a newly-singled mother of four living with her parents, no transportation, and no job. Without trying to be bitchy, that isn’t the easiest position to be in when someone is looking for a partner. I’m not saying she isn’t going to find anyone to settle down with, but those things, plus some other issues I’m just not comfortable writing about here, made me feel like whatever it is they were doing was going to end up being long-term. Because he’s dated monogamous girls before (since leaving the Ex-Wifey–I haven’t written about any of them yet) and they were always clear they were leaving when they found someone monogamous to date. And he had fun with them in the short term and was fine with that.
But it could take years for someone with all of those issues to find the right monogamous man (hell, it can take years for ANYONE to find the right person), and it just stressed me out that the time I get to spend with Papa Bear is so limited and now here’s this woman who is dependent on him for diapers and rides to church.
Other problem: Back when Papa Bear and I first started dating, I told him that the first anniversary of my abortion was coming up, and that I would probably be pretty fucked up that night and would need support. Which he later relayed back to me by way of saying “Yummy Mummy said the anniversary of her abortion is coming up this weekend and she’ll need support.”
“Her too!?” I said, kind of surprised.
To which he kind of got all stuttery and weird, and it took a couple minutes to figure out that he had actually MIXED US UP. He wasn’t even dating her anymore at the time, and he mixed us up. HE MIXED US UP.
I didn’t get mad, but I’ve never forgotten that. He said “You two are just so similar.” I don’t even think he apologized.
So I have always felt, however crazy it might be, that Yummy Mummy and I are interchangeable. That we are “so similar” that he could literally be with her instead of me and not even care. That the only reason he’s with me instead, is because she got pregnant and had babies and moved away. And now she’s back.
She even looks like me. We are the same ethnicity, the same body-type, we’re pretty much the same goddamn age (read: almost inappropriately young for Papa Bear), we both wear glasses, we both have tattoos.
When I was busy freaking out, and Papa Bear was busy trying to calm me, I told him I don’t even know if I’m really polyamorous either. And it’s true. I have said before that I don’t know if I would have ever chosen this lifestyle if I had married a man who actually wanted to have sex with me.
Sex for me is a need, and masturbating doesn’t cut it. I need to connect to another person that way. Adults need to play too. Sex is play. I need that kind of play to feel human.
It was either polyamory or divorce, honestly, because I just couldn’t live like that anymore. So, okay. I became polyamorous. But is that really even ME? Is it who I am? How can I know when it was merely a solution to a problem?
And yet, I know I have the capacity to love multiple people at once. I know I don’t ever again want to be in a position where I am falling in love with someone and I feel guilty, or like I have to hide it or break it off or run away. The thing is…I already am in love. I am so, so, so in love with Papa Bear and I feel like we are really happy together. But as soon as he starts seeing someone else I feel threatened. And when I don’t get to watch them fall in love, because they’ve been IN love this entire time and never told me, how do I handle waking up one day and suddenly, without warning, knowing he loves someone else just as much as he loves me?
That makes me not want to be polyamorous. It makes me want to be monogamous. Because the fairy tale is still there, somewhere inside me. It’s continuing to die its slow death, but it’s still there, making me wish I had the kind of love where we never even wanted to look at anyone else. The kind of love where we already feel SO LUCKY that we never have to go out and search for more. The kind of love that involves romantic feelings and staring at your partner because they’re so beautiful and having a sex life that maybe ebbs and flows but you know, is still satisfying, and certainly, actually fucking EXISTS.
What I can’t figure out is if this kind of relationship is even possible. Is it a thing? Does there exist couples who have been together for 30 years and still make out like teenagers? As much as people will tell me it’s not realistic, I honestly, truly, don’t believe it. I believe it’s realistic if you want it to be. Staying in love may take work, but if you marry the right person, it can happen.
I didn’t marry the right person. That is no secret. He is a wonderful person but that doesn’t mean he’s right FOR ME. But if I were to leave, what would I have? A relationship with a man who I love so much and who tells me all the time that I am his life, but will never, ever be satisfied with just me. That hurts, and I think that’s where he and I differ in our poly.
I have everything I need in him. If I fall in love with someone else, or have a connection with them and want to follow it (as I did with Boss Man), then I can do that. But in him, it’s like he has relationship ADD. You know people who are always browsing? Why are you browsing? Aren’t you happy with what you have?
Breaks my heart ❤
Anyway, jeez, this post is completely incoherent. I spent yesterday throwing up and couldn’t get to bed til 2 AM.
And I need to go now, so, in my next post I will tell you what happened with Yummy Mummy, and we will continue to discuss my polyamory identity crisis.
Saturday night I had a foursome with Gentleman Friend, the Wifey, and her Dom. We started in the kitchen, sharing drinks and dirty stories, then moved to the living room with its enormous leather sectional and wood-burning fireplace. We sat in front of the fire, surrounded by furry blankets, and then the touching started. I wanted to see the wifey’s undergarments, so I pulled her dress right up and admired their sheer, lacy pinkness. I ran my hand up the seam in her stockings, and before I knew it my dress was in a pile on the floor and I was left in my thigh highs and red bra.
Gentleman Friend fingered me and made me come, and the Dom put his cock in my mouth, calling me “good girl.” We all went upstairs.
His bedroom. My god. It was a circle and reminded me of a turret. The bathroom is separated from the main room by a glass half-wall and has a soaker tub with jets, and the bedroom itself is heated by yet another wood-burning fireplace. A leather couch faces the fireplace, and there is a giant bed in the middle of the room.
But its most impressive feature is the spiral staircase that leads to a look-out –a circular catwalk with 360 degree windows, a telescope, and railings all around–perfect for tying someone up. Which we did.
The Wifey has been needing a beating, so I helped the Dom tie her up, and he handed me different implements to torture her with. Yummy.
After we untied her, we crawled onto the bed, and they pulled out an 18 inch double sided dildo. I lubed it up, and slid it inside the Wifey’s pussy. She gasped as she took it, and then I slid my end inside me. It was very thick, and I had to take more and more of it gradually. But we were both moaning, panting and gushing. Fucking each other.
“Lady!!!,” she screamed on the edge of an orgasm. “You are better than Sugar Daddy!!!” [random editorial aside: she is not seeing him anymore either. same reasons.]
I laughed. “Thanks, I’ll tell him you said so.”
We screwed, and the men watched until they decided they wanted a piece of that action. Then I got on my back, and Gentleman Friend fucked me, while the Dom fucked wifey, who was straddling my face. I alternated between licking her pussy and fingering her, though it was a little hard to concentrate while getting the hell fucked out of me!
I gushed. I gushed so hard that Gentleman Friend cupped it in his hands and spilled it down The Wifey’s back. No idea how he managed that, but she was absolutely dripping. I screamed, gripping the sheets and writhing.
The Wifey needed a break so Gentleman Friend cuddled with her, while I fucked the Dom. He put his hands around my throat and Gentleman Friend told him I like being choked hard, so he tightened his grip. Perfect.
I came again, and then we all went and sat by the fireplace. I noticed that there were big windows looking out into the street and went and stood in one, naked. They teased me for being such an exhibitionist, then The Dom started to finger me and I came again. I almost slid down against his cock, which was hard again, until he said “Are you okay without protection?”
Shit. “No, no I am not. Nor am I sober,” I laughed.
Gentleman Friend went and grabbed us a condom cause he’s helpful like that, and I tried to get him in me again but no cigar. “I think I’m swollen shut,” I apologized.
“We’ll see about that,” he replied, taking me over to the bed. And he fucked me. He fucked me hard until I was a screaming, sobbing mess.
“How is she not dead?,” asked Wifey from across the room. I guess this was the first time that either of them had seen how long and hard I can go.
“You’re gonna sit on my face,” said the Dom. “And I’m gonna make you squirt.”
He ate me out and fingered me, and ordered the Wifey to come over and take care of his cock while I rode his face. I knew he wanted me to squirt but was honestly pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to again. . .and then he hit my g-spot, and I drowned him, just like he wanted.
Then I took a cold beer bottle and held it against my pussy, because I was so thoroughly fucked I couldn’t take anymore.
I made too much noise and I caused too many tremors. I woke the beast, and I can’t get it to go back to sleep.
Daddy’s girls are all out of sorts.
Yoga Girl, Daddy’s lover, is concerned that it has now gone from her two times a week and The Girlfriend once a month, plus assorted randoms, to three women all living in the same city, loving the same man.
The Girlfriend is concerned that we might try to usurp her place as Daddy’s primary relationship.
And I am (less now, but still) worried that he will not have time for me.
Poor Daddy. He has told Yoga Girl that at least now there will be no more random sex–he has his hands more than full with the three of us. He has assured The Girlfriend that Yoga Girl and I are both married with children and are not looking for a primary partner. And for me, he just keeps telling/showing me how much he cares for me.
“You know I don’t enjoy whipping you with the riding crop more than once or twice,” he said. “After that, it’s just punishment. You asked me to help you quit smoking. Trust me, as much as getting whipped hurts, it’s not as bad as cancer.”
And then later that night:
“You know I really do care about you, right?”
“I know, Daddy.”
“I want you to have a happy home life, and I want you to have a happy slut-life.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
I imagine Daddy is under a lot of stress. I told him tonight, after him giving me advice on how to help my husband break into Daddy’s industry, as well as promising to make some calls to industry friends in the morning on Hubby’s behalf, that I wanted to be friends with his other girls.
“I just think we should be friends,” I said. “As naive as this might be, they’re my sister wives. We should all get to know each other.”
Daddy agreed. The Girlfriend is hesitant but willing–she says she just needs to be eased into it. Yoga Girl wants to meet–whether we play together or not, she feels the way I do. I am trying not to get my hopes up too high. I have no idea what either of these other women are like. But we all love Daddy and Daddy loves us (though they are not his baby girls–we all have unique roles in his life), and I would love to at least try to see if we can be friends. Part of me–the young, hopeful part, buried deep down inside–feels like this could be the start of the poly family I’ve always wanted. Whether I become sexually involved with the other two or not, we should at least all be able to spend time together.