Insane sanity

We are driving home. Too many lights to record the moon, low and orange on the highway horizon. It's been a full day, a day that started with us collapsing at 7am in a heap of naked bodies after a night of breakthrough and pleasure.

The story of Maryam* stretches back to my childhood when a pretty Persian girl made best friends with me and my sister, and a fourth. Our fourth has a baby now, and my sister is married but I'm making some interesting beauty with Maryam - the third body in our satiated heap this morning.

We've had tension and love through the years but nothing could have prepared me for the wild communion of our bodies with my boyfriends. This was the third time so far, and by far the most comfortable, the perfect opportunity to practice free love.

I've been feeling so open about my lovers body, based on some recent loving episodes from him sharing me. It's like this moon tonight, amazing to experience and impossible to record. She was open and willing and I was hot for her - hungry for the pretty pornographic body she had become. Our first couple stabs at this were a little stifled by worries of friendship but I think this time we knew that our relationship had reached a different level. That this sexual expression was now the language of our friendship. A friendship of pleasure and sharing and love.

T and Maryam had a connection and an attraction. They spent time together sharing secrets and flirts always concerned about my reaction. Which wasn't always good. But as we walked the streets last night celebrating my sisters birthday, with linked arms I felt her heat, and revisited their attraction.

A normal sane woman would hawkishly guard the interaction intercepting connection as much as possible. But in my crazy life I aspired to be at ease with all attraction and to honor it as it existed. So even though I wanted to and have been scared, I felt her love for me and believed in the best. And so we touched more. And eventually ended up home and now we go outside to the porch for smoking.

All the chairs on this porch are broken, this porch where it all started.  That time we were smoking and Maryam did a little trick, this fancy move of making her boobs jump. This time, with her cleavage and her short dress she gave us a lecture on blow jobs and bemoaned how it had been two years since she's had sex. What a shame. And on the three broken chairs with four of us seated, I sat first in my boyfriends lap and then on hers. Her arms wrapped around me naturally and we curled up into our mutual desire.

To be cont...

to record without judgement

i'm silly, very silly here in my little world, i create a little world to smoke in and to sex in and to drown the world away. here i do yoga, falling. i do meditation, crying. i stare at the painting all day and night long. dreaming - dreaming of possibilities.

i read the most beautiful treatise on love, generated from a facebook thread that i posed moral apprehension at the idea of cheating. or was it the gossip. the last comment, seems pertinent.

Observe even from this thread alone how obviously context-dependent questions of morality are. See how much information we needed to be able to make a more precise and confident assessment? And sometimes morality isn't even the issue -- what if she's realized the ex-boyfriend was her true love and she ends up spending the rest of her life with him and the two of them are happy, and her current husband ends up finding someone else who he's far happier with, and both couples end up spending holidays together in exotic tropical locales sipping pina coladas while the kids from both marriages (old and new, even) play together before them? Would anyone at that point care whether the initial act was moral? The point is that if she's sending that photo, it's for a reason -- and what matters is not the morality of it but why she's doing it. Is she unhappy in her marriage? Is she unhappy in life? Is something important missing? What would it take to fill the void? Or is the void within her own self, and incapable of being repaired by something outside? These are the questions that are really worth trying to answer. Because in the end people do what they do out of the strength of their own feelings, even when they don't understand them, even when they know the act is immoral. To do so is human and part of the search for happiness and fulfillment that we all spend our lives engaged in. And in matters of love more than perhaps anywhere else in life, no one should ever remain loyal to another purely out of a sense of self-denying, self-defeating obligation. That's not love, it's self-destruction, a sure way to consign oneself to bitterness and resentment and turn whatever love one once felt for the other into poison. In love there is no morality in self-sacrifice; there is morality only in freely giving of oneself. Any other forced obligation or sacrifice I consider to be the most morally reprehensible act in the name of love of all, because love itself is not love if it is not freely and willfully given, or withheld, every day, by continual acts of deliberate choice by lover in respect of beloved.

 I loved it. i argued passionately for the freedom of love to carry itself in a bikini picture and this boy spoke. it was lovely. the thread itself for another post. not to sidetrack from what i came here to do, to describe... my reality.

I have recordings in my head. I need to get them out. onto the arts. describing the scene of my yoga stretching, and falling, and at least the smoke makes me yoga and i'm fine and mellow as a result. painting my fine and mellow self. the winds and waves of life. i made love to a 24 year old girl and she tasted like peaches to my fingers, every inch of her i ate with my hands. i felt the passing of time in that perfectly placed body squarely in my fingertips. how can i paint these moments, the same moments that monks and saints find god in. in the melding into one.    one body, one god, one source. going in to find without. existential ecstasy.

i have it when i fuck tim - unquestionably. a melding heating love stuffed thing, pounding away its aggression. i don't know what i'm all caught up about in the attachment and the resistance to this whole thing, and with generally everything i know is good for me. whats the big deal with doing what is good for me. its good, hi, hello.

i'm not saying tim is the best but he is good. and good is good.

need muse. paint the women. paint my pictures? i get one of every single girl. somehow or another. the donjuanita of women. i love my steamy bad sex romance roles. perv, he said.

i talked too much..to the good neighbor. slow it down, slow down the cadence. not so fast grasshopper jackrabbit.

my hands occupy beautiful bodies these days. i want my hands to start doing more with the paintbrushes. less with the bodies. can i recreate that body feeling. i need a body orgasmic feeling. what the fuck does that look like?

i'm in my place - the vibe is silent. arches, yellow, retro. meditation pillow - crossed legs laptop long table and couch. i release myself from the shame of not creating. with every second that i spend creating.

my creations are these people of course, and the stories could make scenes.

there is the story of the aussie, in a lesbian bar she made a beeline for me and ended the night melted to my face. i've never tasted a mouth like that, and the body was knuckle bitingly fresh and sweet. i want to paint her somehow solo and somehow being serviced. i want to paint her in cuffs locked on a table in nothing but lingerie. barefoot because she's sweet like that.

korean from the club, the gym club that i belong to, a divorcee who landed in my bed asking for kissing one night. we touched each others tits in the steam room and i sneaked into her shower and made out with her for a while before she slipped out. that only happened once but i'd totally paint her in the bathroom if i could. naked girls pressed against the walls dripping with water..

then there is the woman my boy found to play around with and meeting her was an emotional ordeal best recorded at another time but we met and as my life flows, she sucked my pussy for a long time that night. she's tall and blonde and although that threesome was long it was absent ...but after i worked out my feelings with her over text i started feeling better. then i started sexting her. obviously t i'll push it wherever i can. she turned out to be lovely. and kind of boring... but sexable and we'll grab that one more time at the very least.

there's a flow to theses sexual dances, and we go in and out with them and the science of bodies and lovers and love lives fascinates me endlessly. i'm still always learning so many things, learning through my expression, and mistakes and its something else when you finally realize that you've had it all along.

Three

My boyfriend and I have been in an ongoing conversation about open relationships. 

When we first got together, he complained that he had always been in monogamous relationships yet wished he had had a period of time where he could be a slut. He'd never had that seasick ride of excitement opposite abandonment and found the prospect of the dating world to be really exciting. He found the idea of variety and multiple lovers to be beyond interesting. I, on the other hand, was finally ready to give serious relationships a shot. I have long been tired of the revolving door of people through my mind and through my body and really wanted someone to call home. It's been obvious for a while that I am better off with a committed lover, both physically and emotionally, I accomplish more, I stay stable longer, I start to finally focus on all the neglected projects in my life with encouragement and support. Maybe this is some kind of character flaw in me, but this isn't about that. I am here to record a story.

As much as he wanted to be a slut, I wanted to be in a relationship. He adamantly didn't believe in marriage and kids, but I am a girl in my early thirties, and well.. time does something to you I guess. And although it seemed like we were on as opposite pages as was possible, I thought I saw a little overlap. I proposed that he teach me how to do relationships, while I teach him how to be a slut. Since, I am obviously somewhat good at that. Again, maybe that is a different conversation. In any case, he bought it and we entered into the conversation of together.

A year later, our bond is extremely strong. Both of us have done things that would have ended many relationships. The relationship isn't the picture of serenity and calm but it is passionate and very loyal. I love him dearly, and he loves me. Honestly more than I've ever been loved before. I am a sucker for love, for people that love or like me, it makes my day and my world oh so much brighter.

So on to the story. 

While I was on a business trip, he reconnected with a girl he knew from okcupid... someone who he'd talked to a few years ago when he first started dating out of his long 6 year relationship. He asked if it would be OK to go out with her, and after checking her profile I gave my consent. She wasn't particularly ugly or amazingly pretty, she wasn't anything terribly threatening. She seemed nice and gentle and intelligent. It was a lot different from the last time he tried this, with a trashy cute white girl bartender type. I call her trashy because she took him home the night she met him and gave him the largest bruise/bite/hickey mark I had ever seen on anyone. You know, because I've never taken someone home the first night I met them and left marks. Again, I digress.

He liked the girl and I felt good that I was being so open and chill about it. He didn't hook up with her that night, which was a relief since honestly, I was squirming in my chair about the date itself. I talked to a coworker about it, stupid. I wrung my hands and drank myself to distraction that night until he was done about 11, and then we talked. Nothing had happened, she was cute and cool, he really liked her as a person, just a nice friend to talk about shows and music with. So I surrendered to the whole thing and let it just be.

After another date and another, I'd grown used to her presence. They never did anything physical but by the 4th time I wondered what was wrong with him. I dared him to kiss her this time. And this time they did. She spent the night. I didn't know that she was spending the night, but tried really hard to leave him be, and didn't text all night to see if it was over or how it went. Very early in the morning I texted and saw that the imessage didn't work... which meant his phone was down or off. Then I texted again... no luck. And again and again until I got a text back, that she spent the night and that they were still together. And I felt this gnawing shitty feeling. I blew it off, tried to put down the phone and focus on Adi, who I was visiting in Austin. We got extremely high that morning, and went to the hot tub of her complex and masturbated. 

Later at the airport in Dallas we were talking about it. He had lots of fun, gave her like 5 orgasms, and had one himself, on her tits. Fresh out of a training at work, I had met a guy that really turned me on too. The guy lived in DC and worked in NYC, and I had thought that I would love to trade my boyfriend for one like this. Having this crush while I had a boyfriend made me feel guilty, but having it while my boyfriend had a girlfriend made everything a little easier. So everything in the conversation was measured, somewhat stable. But it took a turn south before long, he was so excited about their music connection... which hit a nerve, because we had had some pretty annoying talks (read fights) about music. For whatever reason, his taste in music was positively awful to me, and my inability to talk about bands and their discologies, made my taste or opinions about music completely invalid to him. We both liked shows, but we had never been to one. In the car, it was always a big tug of war on who got to play the music. And more than a few times I would scrunch my face and ask him to please put on something different when he played his favorite bands. 

So the fight that we had that day wasn't about open relationships, or my discomfort with him or this, it was about music. And about going out. I also had a complaint that he never wanted to do anything fun. But there he was taking her to gay strip clubs and music shows, while constantly complaining to me about how obsessed I was with going out. I felt jipped. How could he be doing this to me, making me the boring stay at home girlfriend while the side tarts got to have all the fun? I was really upset. I felt I had a valid point. Looking back now, I know I was just really upset with everything that was happening. 

Before long, I started wondering what the point of our relationship was. I was texting with the guy from work daily and extensively at this point. I thought, what is the point of all this, if I have this guy and he has that girl? I have no compersion. I have no excitement for his excitement. And I made this clear. I had this guy that I liked, I told him... he didn't bat an eyelash. OK babe, as was his standard answer to anything extracurricular, have fun. I'm not threatened, he'd said. And I wondered why. I wondered what the point of all this is. And I felt sick. And I was angry. And I said that we probably should break up. 

The next few days were torturous. I landed in Florida to spend a week with my family. I was moody and undergoing tobacco withdrawls, and feeling like my relationship was over. I was angry at my sister for involving her boyfriend in our family vacation. I was spending hours on the phone with Tim trying to keep myself from doing anything rash. At that moment, I was ready to trash the relationship and go to Thailand with the new guy for New Years Eve. But our one year anniversary was coming up, and I was scheduled to fly into DC for it, then go to spend Christmas with his family. I wondered why I was going through the trouble to see someone's family who is causing me so much pain. I wondered and I considered, and I talked and I cried, and eventually I decided to wait till I saw him then make my decisions. 

When I got to DC, he greeted me with roses and took me for a steak dinner, and he was the nicest him I had ever seen him be in a whole year. A snow storm came through the next day that gave us the perfect excuse for skipping Detroit and coming back to New York for Christmas. Our physical bond re-established itself and I melted back into the relationship. I felt horrible for considering leaving. I felt horrible for being upset about the girl. I just wanted to be in love with him, and I was. It hardly bothered me that he mentioned his girl was in New York and that he wouldn't mind seeing her... a little but not that much.

Christmas eve, I put out some feelers and had one of my recent girl dates pop up to hang out with us. We slept with her. A few days later, despite an honest, plain fear I suggested we meet her together. I wanted a closer look at this girl, and in the past I've been able to get a handle on things by meeting people. So we did. I brought Steo as an emotional security blanket. At the coffee shop we chatted independently, he and her, Steo and me. Everything seemed copacetic... I didn't know what the big deal was, she dressed like a 40 year old and took a long time to form sentences. She was cute but that was about it. So taking another gamble, I invited her back to my place to smoke. She was very willing and happy to. And when we came back, something flipped a little. I wanted her. So I started touching her and she received my touch. She seemed to touch back. I peer pressured everyone to smoke a little more and then we very quickly ended up in bed, and kissing. 

Now. I've had threesomes, and I have slept with my fair share of women, but I have never experienced anything like what we created that day. Everything was sensual, slow, and incredibly magnetic. The bonds of desire were totally balanced, everyone wanted everyone. We eventually shed our shirts and pants to be underwear naked. She came on my hands. I came with both of their hands. We made out, they made out, it was everywhere, we were all pressed very closely together and it was beautiful. 

At this point I was out of my mind with joy. I was in awe of him for finding her, and I was in awe of the open relationship concept. The next day he went home to work for a couple days and come back; meanwhile I spent that day masturbating nonstop. All I had to do was think of her face or of kissing her or watching her bite her lip and I would come. I came over and over thinking over her that day. I came 9 times. 

I couldn't help but write her, then, on okcupid about how amazing it was. And I couldn't help but give her my phone number and take hers, and suggest we run and read and paint together. And when she gave me hers I couldn't resist texting her to say hello. And when she texted back about a table that she was making I couldn't resist volunteering my gesso and paint protection plastic for the floor for when she works on it, and I couldn't resist suggesting that I come by and work with her sketching as she painted. She was very nice and receptive and welcomed me over. 

What happened next was so completely unplanned, yet hardly a surprise in my world. I went over to the east village and spent the afternoon with her and her boyfriend. We drank wine and smoked cigarettes and talked about my painting ideas. I showed them the digital diaries I had brought to sketch from, a book by a photographer named Natacha Merrit who photographed herself in various sexual positions, something between art and pornography and we talked about relationships et al. Then the topic of massages. Would I like a massage? They had a table for it. And so I said ok, and somehow maybe before or after this she kissed me, and around here I took off my clothes for the massage and felt shy, so suddenly, so did they. And the massage never was much of a massage, it was kissing and touching and somehow I slept with these two. Mainly her, do not really remember much with him. Very focused on her throughout, I went down on her, and made out with her while he had fucked her. I remember her constantly telling him what a good job he was doing, and I remember him saying with amazement how beautiful I was. But I mainly remember her. After fantasizing about her all day the day prior, I was very hungry, very intense, very focused on being with her. I told her I was in love with her, at every other moment. I couldn't help it, I just was. 

Afterwards we were both a little embarrassed to have left Tim out, he was still working and would be coming up later that night. I quickly texted this was happening and that he should come straight there to her boyfriends place. He responded positively (almost always does about anything sexual) and we settled in to wait for him. I don't know what I could have done differently but it was about here that I probably should have done something. Or gone home. Looking back, this is probably where things started to take a left turn. 

The complication in this picture is that the girl and her boyfriend had a don't ask don't tell policy which made my/our presence with him a distressing thing for her. She is a "man of integrity" as she puts it.. and I have a mouth that talks without thinking. I am pretty sure in my combined worship and general fright of her that the wine made my tongue loose, and I told him how we were all connected. I probably shouldn't have done that. Tim arrived, but I was a babbling wreck by then, we went out, had drinks, came back, talked some more then finally like the captain control that he is, Tim steered me home.

That next day we were like bunnies, more than usual. Full of love proclamations and intensity. Insanely in love. Talking about her nonstop. I was so grateful to him for sharing, every time I came I thought of her, every time I did that I told him about it and he was on clouds about the whole thing. It was really over the moon. But then came a little trouble in paradise, she wrote us and said that her and her guy were in some heavy conversations - good ones but that it was a little much, she mentioned that she was distressed about how things went, that she showed poor judgement in allowing me over, but that it all turned out for the best because they had a talk and things were much more in the open now. Tim and I were worried and then relieved.

Then the next day was New Years Eve. We somehow talked her into coming over again, even though she had previously asked us to come out somewhere for coffee. And again we were thrilled to see her. But things were a little different this time. Not as natural. A little more forced, a little more guarded. All of this in retrospect, in those moments I didn't quite realize it. We didn't have the flow from before, as Tim and I kind of vied to be the one in the middle or with her. I made a point to have sex with Tim in front of her, while the first time I had been almost embarrassed to touch him with her there. She didn't have a lot of time and had to jump up as soon as she came.. which we had done manually again. No oral this time. Tim was in the way. Last time when they kissed, I almost felt shy watching, but this time I stared, trying to take away the power. I stared and I saw real love between them. I didn't know what to do with that. I couldn't actually tell how I felt at that moment but afterwards, reflecting on those moments seriously upset me. And I remember saying as we were fucking and she was dressing, oh and then there's her nice fucking sweaters. She looked up at me, a little shocked, almost distressed, and repeated my words... my nice fucking sweaters? Yes, I said.. totally full with desire for her and full with my boyfriend. Your nice fucking sweaters. 

I should also mention that Tim wanted to drive her home on the 2nd, but she already had a bus ticket. And for some reason I really didn't want that. But he really did. So he asked her when she was over. She was non committal but seemed open to the idea.

That night we rode the wave of insanity at a very nice Union Square apartment New Years Eve dinner party. I told my closer friends about the eventful week and they listened, wide eyed and silent. Sometimes they laughed along, sometimes they just stared. By the end of the night, the wine had made my tongue loose again and I promised a dinner party soon, where we could spend time with the host and his girlfriend, and my boyfriend, and his girlfriend, and her boyfriend! Yes, yes, said the host as he waved us goodbye. We will meet everyone, I am sure they are all very nice....!

Now this is the story of what happened. The next things I'll write are about what happened after everything happened. 

The next day as we were moving around the apartment in the morning, Tim made an announcement.. haha Dwe (the girl) made a funny. She had sent a picture of a huge flame which appeared to be winking, and said that it was me. I didn't think it was so funny but I laughed politely. He wrote her back and then she wrote him back, saying that she decided that she needed a gangbang by a metal band, and if he knew where she could get that? He did, he was proud to write back, he's just the guy for the job. But the request shocked me. How did that sweet nice girl with the nice sweaters want a gang bang? I don't even want a gang bang.

Then came the axe. She wrote us (both, this time) again later in the afternoon saying that she was going to have to go quiet for a while, that she was feeling anxious and that she needed to work some things out. And that she would be taking the bus. We were stunned but said OK, and let her be.

Enter stage left, true and complete madness.

In the days that followed I was a serious and total mess. I didn't leave my apartment; instead, I thought. And brooded. And smoked, and thought. I was awash in total petrified fear. I was afraid she wouldn't come back and I was afraid she would. I read her facebook posts and pages nonstop, I considered her pictures repeatedly, I was obsessed with her and it was starting to become clear that what I was experiencing wasn't totally based in love. I lost my shit every day and night for close to a week, I don't want to get into too many details; all I can say is that I was very depressed. In fact, since she battled depression, I caught a glimpse of my dark side in some kind of rouse, almost copying her, almost as if I were also worth caring for because I too get depressed. I have always been terribly emotional, and I have always had times of depression but as a self preservative measure I almost refuse to believe in depression, because I know I will indulge in it and make it worse. But this time, there was no catch mechanism, I almost wore the depression as a badge of honor.

As the days wore on, I gradually started to get better. There was still no word from her, and as time passed, I grew happier, got back to normal. I went to DC on a whim to visit my boyfriend and drive him back to New York since he was planning to come up that Sat, we loved each other all over again. While stopped on the road at a waffle house for dinner, we again got a letter from her. Oh shit he said, when he started reading. I hurried to get my phone to read along.

She told us of how she had just finalized her divorce and how she now has found out that she no longer has funding for her research and therefore won't have a job after March. She told of all the things she had to think about. She told that she can't stop thinking about us but how she doesn't want to. And finally she said that she simply doesn't have the band with to be with us right now. Lots of love and that she will miss us.

At this we were both pretty bummed. And I felt bad for Tim. I know that I exploded this situation on him as is my trademark, and I felt bad. But I was also relieved. But I still felt bad. So I wrote a long letter encouraging her to stay. I was transparent about my issues with polyamory and I asserted that I would own my feelings/intensity and that I was willing to be uncomfortable to experience the magic of us all together. I was very genuine and tried my best to repair what ever damage I had done. Simultaneously, I felt truly and totally sick. Here was my opportunity to let it go forever, and I was blowing it. What was wrong with me? In many of my moments of madness, her name made me feel sick, thinking about her made my chest tight and my breath short, thinking of Tim made me think of her which made me want to pull my eyeballs out of my head and throw them at someone. The whole event made me want to murder kittens. I had no energy for anything... Just cigarettes and internets and tears. I was not well with this and there were a million reasons why, but none of them felt valid. I just felt like a big joke. So why did I do that? Why did I write her?

A couple days later came her reply: she wrote and deleted, spent hours trying to reply -- but she does not want to write long emails, she has no desire to do that. She wants to spend time having fun, not spending time on these (guess who looks like an idiot asshole at those kinds of words). She said that if she were to be very bold, what she would want is Tim as a lover, and me as a friend. She expanded on why but these details don't really matter, long and short, that is what she wanted.

The note came on the tails of another strange affair which I may write about another time, and right before my sister finally got the engagement ring she's been waiting for for almost a year. And I immediately wanted to puke. I immediately wanted to kill kittens again. I was being rejected. Serves me right for writing and asking for her to come back. But seriously, fuck her, she wants to bone my guy and be my friend? Who the fuck does she think she is? I was awash in emotions like these. I once again seriously contemplated ending my relationship. I kept thinking that if I cannot handle this, and if this is what he wants, then I shouldn't be in this. And I told him, I need to leave, I need to break up with you. And he never let me, instead he spent long hours on the phone focused on making me feel better and telling me how much he loves me. Telling me how awesome I am. Telling me anything he could think of to keep me from leaving him. All I wanted to do was break up. Still now. Its been almost a week since her letter and I am still sad and suffering about it. Only now when he tells me how much he loves me I cry, because I think a part of me just doesn't exactly believe it, or maybe, I do believe it but I don't feel I deserve it, or even further, maybe I think don't I deserve something better than this. As though love for one is a better love than love for more than one...


I can't figure out what to do here. I know I have to let him see her, I think, if I am to continue this relationship. Because if it's not her, it will be someone else. The contemplation of this "fact" which I do regard as a "fact" makes me cry very quickly and for long periods of time. I am distressed and I am holding on to my distress, it makes me feel like this love is real, worth fighting for, not worth laying down taking it in the ass by letting random women just touch and take my boyfriend. I am very stuck, because from this story it seems like he is the one that goes off while I stay silent and suffering at home but this is not the full truth. I engage and disengage at a rate of about 5 to 1 compared to him. My seductions are quick to engage, intense and then over, but his are plodding, patient efforts that plant seeds and grow roses. I have continued to look at everything as honestly as I can... I can see many reasons why polyamory is amazing and I've felt those reasons too, separately - in my extra encounters, it makes me love him more, and in his, it makes him sweeter and more in love with me. When I've been with others with his permission, I feel like I have the most amazing gift in the world, I feel generous and open and full. I know if I could just become OK with this he would feel the same way and love me to the end of time. I know if I could get over things about this girl that the chances are somewhat high that we could all get back together again. But I am stuck. I have SUFFERED intensely around this woman, and I don't know if I can be clean in my interactions with her. I have been suffering so much that I wonder if I am just made to be monogamous. Really. And I feel like a failed polyamorist when I think of that. I am a failed conventional and a failed rebel. And this is deflating, to the extreme.

In all this brooding and thought, I have gone in and out of a lot of ideas about marriage and children. I think about why I think I want that and how much Tim doesn't. I wonder why should I turn myself inside out for someone that I don't even have a future with. But when we started getting into all this, that week over Christmas had him talking about kids a lot -- seems like if there were more than two people taking care of kids that he'd be more open to the idea. And then I think of that. I wonder what kind of madness of a life I am creating for myself. I keep thinking one day I will leave all this behind and marry someone nice and go into the sunset of stability and have a couple kids who I will raise to be smart yet highly questioning success maniacs. I am crying as I type these words. I think I am really attached to some of these conventional ideas. And the things I have done, the places I have gone, the person I have become, attracts a person like Tim. Not a guy like the one I met at work, who ended up moving to Chile about two weeks after we met. I saw him a time or two before he left. He is in love with a 23 year old Moroccan girl from money to money who works for IBM and makes comments about penetrating markets equaling opportunities for him to penetrate her. I don't know. Am I convinced that I am made for someone who would or has fallen for someone like that? Sometimes I think I am so far gone that even if the stars were all aligned, someone like him wouldn't go for me. Or am I just so terrified of my own relationship that he looks like some kind of savior, some kind of escape route from all this terror. But what am I so terrified of? I still can't figure it out.

I want peace, I want calm. I want exceptional sex in my life and I want binding love. I don't need to be with a million people but I also don't want to be in some kind of conventionally appropriate jail either. I think I see a serious relationship as an opportunity to have your basic needs met so that you can get on with other things. I have spent so much time looking for love -- love that eventually was going to uplift me, and give me the foundation I needed to be the accomplished artist/author/designer I am supposed to be. Always waiting to find the thing that's going to make me be who I am supposed to be. We know the answer to this one right, it's up to me to be who I am supposed to be now, with or without anyone, right? But in this relationship, his desire to be with others fuels my need to make things even, balanced, and so I haven't stopped all the crap I was doing when I was single, it is just more of the same. Meeting, fucking around, leaving, drifting, rotating.

I've been looking for polyamorists to talk to, to figure some of these things out. Shawn, a guy from okc has a girlfriend, and we three went to a talk on tantra last week. I tell him how I am frightened that I am not enough. He says that a need to be enough for someone is selfish and delusional. That people often have interest in others. What / when is enough? That these are dangerous thoughts.

Polyamory feels dangerous to me too. But the more I deep dive all this, the more I think monogamy is just an easy way out. In that model, the relationship protects you from connecting to others, and from addressing your insecurities, and from feeling the reality that your lover isn't actually yours. And we all perpetuate this fantasy called the one, who is the one, until they get old and annoying.. then we find another one, and dump the first one.. so that there is always one. But never just one.

I don't know how to wrap up this missive. There are still no conclusions. I still have no good decisions. I just wait and think and hope that the right answers will come to me soon. All I want to do is honor myself and my life as much as possible.

Honor. What a curious word for me to use. 

I hope I can find it soon, this thing I want.

The what to do, the "right" what's next.

new beginnings? new endings?

Now I've really made a little pickle for myself. The latest and greatest - open relationships. Epic.

On one hand I am thrilled. On the other petrified.

What is the definition of love?


Is there a definition? How will you know? What about all of the different kinds of love? What if some people simply don’t know how to? I’ve asked these questions my whole life and now somehow I’ve created a space to inspect it, up close and personal.

And now that I am here, I have no idea what to say.

Tim is like my favorite friend in grade school, and a protector, and a space of compassion and acceptance. He’s like my kid, and my dad, and my brother all rolled into one. He looks up to me and he takes care of me, and he keeps up with me. I find myself hesitating, halting and fearful of actually making it mean something so big, and yet… if this relationship is not a description of what happens when you love someone, I don’t know what is.

It’s in the naming of things that we get all wrapped up I guess… until I call it love, it’s just Tim, sweet and familiar, a little haven called I’m not alone here, in all this… confusion we call life. But this relationship isn’t at all about avoiding loneliness. It’s the most aggressive partnership I’ve ever created with anyone. From the beginning we’ve been in deep respect of each other, and from there, a total stand for our mutual success as individuals. I love that about us most of all.

And in our most intimate moments we carry each other farther than anyone believes we can go, he takes me back to trust, quietness, intimacy, and ultimately an inner calm… and I meanwhile, push him far out on tree limbs that he didn’t even know existed. I challenge him to think differently and to push the envelope ever further. This is what they call compatibility, I suppose.

I’m putting all of this into words because if I don’t, I won’t really be present to the beauty that it is. I don’t ever want to take this for granted. It is an of course, but an astounding one, really! How or why did this happen? I think frequently about how I wanted certain things in a boyfriend, and how closely Tim matches up to those qualities I wanted. I love it! I love that my idea manifested into this, I’m thankful that I had the presence of mind to just surrender to it. To let go of whatever I was so focused on not having, to have the ability to be present to what is here, in him, and in me, and in us, together. It’s so fantastic. And I am often stuck somewhere between disbelief and tears and laughter every time I think of it, and try to nail it.

Inevitably it becomes impossible to nail, so I try to let it go. The need to name, box, identify and compartmentalize. Isn’t that just me trying to make things easier to understand? Or labeling it as some kind of fluke in the back of my mind? I’m a great big wall, a dam holding off all these emotions, that I hardly want to let myself feel… because in this space that I am in right now, I am existing in a certain peace, quietness, calmness about it all. Sometimes I wonder if I am staying outside of feeling this, truly. If I have some kind of feeling that I will ruin it if I do?

But all this is part of the head game we play with ourselves about having the things we want. I’m not going to sell out on myself like that. I’ve already done that, for long enough.

Miami 2011

I'm brought to the edge of a pool in south beach miami, at a hotel i've fallen in love with, and dubbed my new escape plan. The clouds have taken over the sun again. I keep finding lessons of excess in my vacation, it becomes clear that the rumi poem of knowing your limits should be created.

The picture of a woman fucking a donkey. Which looks remarkably like a transexual fucking a bisexual, who brought her home thinking she was she was a girl. In otherwords, some picture of absurdity, the limit you hope to never see. Foolishly.


Because, as soon as you start, its over.

Transformation

Let's address the topic of transformation. I am what I decided to be. I create myself in every choice moment and unfolding event.

I am standing at the other end of a great abyss, one I repeatedly fantasized about over the passing years, but did not imagine I would ever reach, much less surpass to the extent that I have. Is it a slight death, I can't help but wonder, to be self congratulatory at this point? I hope not, because I deserve this.

To take stock and for the record, this time last year I was living a life of utter self destruction. I was smoking anything a person could smoke like it was my job. I never slept on time. I didn't eat at all or correctly most of the time. And I never had any money. I was always late, and always struggling. I know, this sounds like the start of a religiously inspired born again testimonial... The strangest part: I was fiercely attached to my lifestyle. It's not like I didn't know that I wasn't doing right by myself, its that I didn't care. I knew it was fucked up and I liked it that way.

There are a lot of questions about this that float around for me. Why didn't I care? Was it some kind of manifestation of self hate? Was it some kind of resistance? Some kind of protest to the life I was living? What changed in me recently to put everything in order? Is it my age? Did I finally, finally get sick enough of it all? Is it all thanks to moving to New York?

In my mind these days, I say to myself often: I used to think I had problems. And then, I moved to New York. This doesn't mean what it seems to mean. I don't have more problems now, I don't know what it is to struggle more keenly, in fact I have so many less. But I see daily what problems look like. I see people with issues, everywhere. For some reason this has me straighten up and ground within myself; it has me working harder to assert who I really am, authentically. And I think this is what is most curious to me... what I found by doing so.

One by one, I've dropped all my vices. Things that I remember rooting my personality in, my self-identity. September saw me cut off tobacco. December/January saw the departure of my transitional living space on the seaport. No internet in the new place on purpose suddenly has me sleeping on time and consistently. Jan 31 I joined an expensive gym; so expensive I force myself to workout daily. February: exit right some new but seriously toxic friends. March: Persian New Year + family + master cleanse help me drop food, self medication and sex. The return to food saw only healthful things, I still haven't eaten anything deeply fried, and white bread/rice hasn't really made much of a comeback. Neither has sex. Or serious intoxication. And I feel powerful as a result of each of these little victories. Every little one pushes me up a notch, and with each notch the self degenerative decisions of my past confuse and confound me a little more. Who was I then? Why was I like that? Why did it take so long to get here. To this moment that unfolded like I'd always imagined it would, like a switch. Something simply flipped and I just shifted. Even my life at the beginning of March seems foreign and far away compared to where I am now. How strange and amazing is that?

I remember watching my sister first apply to Duke for her MBA, then get accepted, then complete the program, with determination and absolute resolve. She did it while excelling at her career, purchasing a new place, then moving to a new city, purchasing another place, and getting promoted at work. I remember feeling indifferent about it all, while I was happy for her, I considered it in the space of "things that made us different" labeling it so that I could pad my self disappointment. One night during the course of it though, she told me about the catching feeling of accomplishment... "Now that I did this thing, what else can I do?" Something about my current journey takes me back to that conversation we had... I think I finally understand what she meant, and I actually don't think we are all that different anymore.

Rat race mentality creeps in a little... now that I've finally straightened up I can compete and join the ranks of good enough to transcend into better and then best. The person I was always meant to be! The one my parents and sister sometimes looked through me and saw, with cocked heads and confounded brows. Imagine what I could have done if I'd come around to this 10 years ago. There is my dad talking... But it really doesn't matter, does it. Maybe, I think, I am like the Siddhartha who had to indulge in the lavish excess of the material world to enjoy the spiritual one, to reach nirvana... he crossed that same river many times before he sat down under a tree. So why bemoan the journey? Celebrate it.

But not for long, there is still a lot of work to do, sister.

Self actualization is not for the faint of heart. And as a result I'm pretty thankful for the blazing determination inside my ribcage. Is ignorance really bliss? Not here, not now. To drag myself through the dirt of life to get to this little mountain top makes suffering the nasty truths of who I was and the pain of change absolutely worth it.

Upward and onward..

Loneliness

The year is now 2011. The years continue to melt away... 2001, the year of prague, 2006 the year of beach parties and costumes, 2007 the year my leg broke, 2008 the year of boyfriend healing, 2009 a year of sorrow...  all surely fading into the light and distant memory versions of themselves. I've brought myself to New York, a city with more people than I've ever seen at once, more people on any given day than the combined bodies I'd ever see in a week or a month in North Carolina or even in Our Nation's Capitol, DC. And for the first time in my life, I am vividly lonely.

Even typing those words springs immediate tears into the edges of my eyes. I've never understood how people can get lonely, no matter where I've ever been there have always been warm hearts surrounding me. It didn't take even 6 months to find my feet in DC and yet here its been 10 months to the day already since I've come here and I have an experience of New York that is nothing short of frigid. I know New York is a hard city, but I didn't expect this.

I came here because I wanted to be challenged. I came because I saw a million people just like me. But how does this work... where the more people that are around a person, the lonelier and more withdrawn one feels? I am not here to complain, just to express it.. express it up and out of my heart, express to uncover the inner exuberance that lives just behind this big brick wall of sorrow and heart tightness. To release how hard this winter has been on my soul, how close to the surface I feel this searing strange pain. It's totally unlike all the other versions of sadness (many) I've experienced to this point. I'm trying to find the words for the desperate clawing void that fills my mind and my torso with such sudden tsunami strength. There aren't any that adequately capture it. But it is always there lately and sometimes at the smallest provocation it utterly consumes me. How am I supposed to connect with anyone with the inside of my body twisted up in such a seriously saddened state? How can I take a Lysol cleanup wipe to the inside of my heart, to the landscape of my mind? Where is the sun? Why won't the weather give us a fucking break? I think that would help, at least just a little.

Listen, its not the end of the world. I don't want to leave. I came here for a reason, and I suppose this is part of it. To learn how to toughen up, from the inside out. To learn how to keep walking, to keep moving, to keep trying, to keep reaching. I know I am not the only one that feels this way. I know that its not a permanent state despite how encompassing it feels sometimes. Maybe its an invitation to get busy. Maybe that's why everyone here is so busy all the time... to stave off the loneliness. To keep it at bay. But I've learned from the masters... that the only way out is through. Another one of my trials and self imposed tribulations. We who are so in love with suffering, we who come to New York and love it despite all of this... madness and sadness and badness.

So, like I said 10 months ago, full of anticipation and trepidation, I'll say again - this time with many battles behind me and many demons conquered but many more left to tackle... Welcome to New York.

OKC reaction to stormydepth

After months of cheeky, ambiguous profile writing, and many, many (completely unsuccessful) dates, I'm going to try and put a little substantive information here about who I am, what I'm looking for and where I'd like to take this little journey called okcupid.

I am an American-born Persian girl. I have a lot of personality. I am a seeker. I am a creator. I am a thinker. I have an unquenchable desire to learn ever more about myself, and about all the strange twists and turns of humanity that surround me. I possess an uncompromising degree of curiosity and commitment to the truth... whatever that is, which as any truth seeker knows is a subjective and shifting thing. Even so, I don't forgive a lack of desire to know, discover and act from whatever that space is for you, lightly. If you're the sort that prefers comfort to reality, who willingly participates in the complex web of lies and delusion that most of this world suffers from - please please please do not talk to me.

I am complicated. Sorry simple, stupid lovers, but I come that way. I see so many shades of gray in this life and in myself that I don't understand how so many people can act like they don't exist. I don't hide this under some pretty blanket called fun and easy. I can be a lot of fun, but I am not easy. I am not for the faint of heart. I have run off many would be and existing lovers by asking them the hard questions of life, and really.. that's OK. Because I want someone strong. Strong enough to debate without getting bent, strong enough to handle me, and whatever beauiful madness we create together.

Repeat: I am not easy. I'm explicitly saying to anyone perusing my profile for a quick or casual lay to please get lost. I have had enough stupid casual sex in my life to realize its fucking disgusting, the intense dishonor we engage in by participating in this kind of 'connection', as though it is normal and OK. I am not in that space -- in body or mind AT ALL, so do not talk to me if you are. It'll be a perfectly reasonable response to any solicitation of mine to say that you are a casual fucker, which will have me hide you right away and never bug you again.

I am fiercely independent, and very protective of my freedom. I am not dying to be in a relationship; to be honest, they scare me a little. But I do want to build something beautiful with someone a bit like me. I want to create and discover and love and fuck and explore and expand and energize and do all the things that lovers do. I am very romantic, and I'm also very feminine. All in a very self-constructed way. As opposed to blindly doing as they told me.

I take a lot of pride in my oddities, and my rebellions... from a very young age I stood out, and learned very early on that the rules actually don't matter at all. The only thing that matters to me is authenticity. And that's a very conscious choice. It takes heart, bravery, courage to decide who you are, to see it, to act from it.

This is who I am, and this is who I want.

Staying Stuck in a Single State of Mind

In the course of dating, reflecting and then dating again, one is sometimes struck by a few... shall we say... patterns.
Mine: meet said romantic prospect - fall for them/they fall for me - we enter the itsy bitsy beginning stages of being together - a push or a tug along the way - then - explosive unrecoverable final kaput ending, before anything has really even gotten started.
Ok maybe I am being dramatic. Sometimes its not explosive. Really this sounds worse than it is. Still though, its also no picnic. It does make for good stories, if you like that sort of thing. Which I might. Secretly of course.
People (friends and cohorts, and even potential partners) will react to this pattern in a few different ways. They'll usually say - it must be that you're going after a certain kind of (bad) man - or - you just haven't met 'the one'. I often wonder why they always go to the guys, as if I'm completely devoid of any responsibility for this pattern, as if I have nothing to do with it. Now look, I don't have some kind of physical deformity, or any significant lack of intelligence or social grace. I don't mean to imply that I am a reject or otherwise undesirable, because frankly speaking, I'm not.
I  think this tendency to look outside of the self is impulsive; a knee jerk reaction to absolving the self of the rather intensely uncomfortable process of looking at oneself squarely to understand what is and isn't working about our perspectives and behavior in and around our worlds. The easy answer, we're addicted to it culturally really... in order, its something like 1) the men you like are bad, 2) you are bad/wrong/a mess/etc, 3) you're looking too hard/want too much... you get it, right? Cliched variations of the same unproductive answers. Bleh. All these answers bore me really. And I don't think they are anywhere close to the truth.
Speaking of addiction and impulse, I think the real culprit here is comfort zone. Routine, the state of the world as you know it. And with me... I know that I have an attachment to independence and freedom, which has contributed to a long romantic life free of actual partnership/relationship. And while I think that I've significantly matured since the time when all this started, and while I recognize that a truly balanced partnership wouldn't threaten my freedom at all, I suspect that I am somewhat stuck in a single state of mind.
I think you can identify with this concept: The one with all the stories, romances and passing trysts, the one least likely to settle down or settle at all, the one who's always got someone but never with anyone... I have had something of a rockstar lifestyle and I have relished it. I think I am starting to get a bit worried about the transition into a partnership. I want one, who doesn't? But I am convinced that it has to be every bit as glittering as my past lives have been, with a lot of glamor and grace. Chaotic and catatonic, intuitive and alive!
I know that in reality settled relationships aren't traditionally this way. But it also bears noting that settled relationships don't have to be completely boring and lifeless, either. I think I have it like that in my head, though. So whenever things start slipping into a togetherness, into an us, into a sharing space, I think I might have the subconscious equivalent of a solid recoil. Because it's just so dreary, really.. to negotiate your hangups and neuroses against all of mine, no? I mean, yes. Totally. But right or wrong, true or false, this mindset isn't doing anything for my romantic life and chances at happily ever after. So how to shift? What to do, after awareness hits?

On Monogamy

Ah, relationships. Love them or hate them, they don't care. They simply exist, leaving you both better and worse for wear.

So, the latest. I was recently first approached then enrolled into an open relationship. A new lover, someone to be there for me, someone to handle my body, someone that cares beyond the basics. It feels like the loveliest match yet. The catch? He simply doesn't believe in monogamy.
Yet, this isn't the part that makes me balk. Its the fact that this guy, has approached and me with more respect, commitment and care than any other guy in the last year or two. How is it that the non-monogamous has this much to offer, while the more traditional among you, don't? Instead flying out the window and running like a jackass at the first sign of anything out of the ordinary? Hello, I am not ordinary. I won't play cool if I like you, sorry. I won't laugh at the joke if its not funny, sorry. And I don't want to sleep with you right away! Sorry!

If I sound a bit jaded, sorry.

The other side to this coin: I am usually wrought with anxiety and over analytical madness every time something feels like its on the right track. This time, hardly at all, none. I am free to do as I please. And it pleases me to stay here, learn what I am meant to learn, enjoy it as it exists to be enjoyed. Flirt and entertain others, maybe, sure. The doors aren't closed, and they aren't trapping me in. I wonder a lot these days about what this means, what a stark difference I've experienced here compared to the past. For one of the first times, I'm finding myself happy to be in the relationship, wanting to carry and live it out to its highest potential, versus ceaseless worry and analyzation about whether he's good enough for me, or if I'm good enough for him. Something about this makes me wonder if this isn't the better way to go. For me, forever.

Relationships are about creating a sharing, a growing, a bettering. Should be, no? Instead, we're often oppressing, restricting, and obstructing each other. Trapping. Insisting. Etc.

The latest has this all finally making sense. To me. But in the context of others, its a touch concerning. Will this become the new world order? Or will those who understand things this way come to some kind of war of worlds with the more traditional and rote among us? How will this go over with my parents?

Who's to say? Not me. For now, I'm busy. Finally. Enjoying this relationship business. Free, of pressure, the way its supposed to be.

COMMENTS:
I'm not sure if that has to do with beeing traditional or not. In my opinion, it's more about realizing what you need to become happy. There are people who'd whither in a monogamous relationship, and others who are perfectly happy with one. I know quite some couples who are heavily into BDSM, for example, and still strictly monogamous, so that doesn't sound too traditional to me. :P
About the freedom: it depends on the character. For some people, monogamy gives them more freedom than polyamory. Whether one of the concepts restricts or traps you, or makes you feel free, is a personal opinion. So, I think there will be more polyamorous relationships in future, but I also think that it's not a better way of having a relationship, simply a different one.

Partikel commented on Feb 21

 

I don't think there is a need to be sorry. Though, I understand politeness goes a long way it's wearisome to spoonfeed adults. 

bleucause commented on Feb 21

 

hey i'm cool with it. if this dude sparks your interest go for it. if you're bothered by him banging multiple chics then there will be a problem. Sounds like fun.

still_laffing commented on Feb 21

 

This hits really close to home for me. I have always been interested and believed in polyamory, but for the past two years I gave that up in order to be in a relationship with someone. This weekend, I hooked up with someone else, and that was the last nail in the coffin for that relationship. Looking back, it was wrought with anxiety and self-consciousness, mostly on his end. He was always worried that he was inadequate, and read my desires to be sexual with other people as signs that I was unhappy with the relationship and wanted to quit. This couldn't have been farther from the truth. I love him and loved spending time with him, we connected so well on so many things. It breaks my heart that I had to choose between my best friend and the lifestyle I've always known I wanted to live, but always repressed. It really feels like an impossible choice for me, and I wish that more people would understand that polyamory doesn't have to mean that you have to compromise on love and commitment.

LilyBLK commented on Feb 21

 

I spent about ten minutes looking for the 'Like' button on this thing, before realizing we're not on Facebook...

archeopteryx commented on Feb 22

Partikel - thank you! lots of points really well made. Lily - sorry to hear about your recent relationship incongruity. Archeopteryx - fucking hilarious, thank you. Other points - does it bother me that he is banging multiple chicks? No. Not until you put it that way, which not only insults my pride but also indicates some of the bullshit that I might be up against in a world where people can only see things a certain way. The main aspect here is about learning and being together based on desire over obligatory contract or unspoken expectations. In the face of the honesty he's shown and respect he's expressed by doing so, as well as how he has recently contributed to my life, the value add is enormous. The relationship he's creating with me has been one of the loveliest I have ever experienced yet; it is based on attraction and desire and learning. Other relationships I've had were nice, but I felt almost like I was dragging myself through the mud to be ok with them, or in them. I don't come here to propose that this is the right thing for everyone, but assuming it is for me... the only thing I am worried a bit about is how to balance with the rest of the world, how to explain it, and how to shield comments from bothering me. "Banging multiple chicks" doesn't bother me at all if you're honest about it, other than the implication between the lines that I am less ...something than all those women who wouldn't put up with it. This is what bothers me the most I think. This attitude.

stormscavenger commented on Feb 22

 

Welcome aboard the good ship polypop.

JuanitoL commented on Feb 22

 

hey storm, glad you sound free of your self-imposed hurdles! enjoy the connection, be safe, and you will grow so much with it. just follow your heart and keep your head, and be vigilant about honesty, can't be lazy or complacent. if its real you'll love working with it. the multiple chicks attitude is just ego talking, try and push that shit away and choose your own problems and overcome them. the ego is a cowardly enemy and we can't abide people who are its willing slave. at the same time you'll want to know if he can be fully honest and respectful. it would be nice if you can tell him what you're uncomfortable with and see if you can find comfort. i doubt this works half way, just like monogamy doesn't work half way, you gotta stay on the job. we are all different, and its up to us to forge our own path, you know that, its the same with sex and love, etc... every relationship is different and we have to let it be, we just get so little practice with honest, conscious people so we revert to what we learned in hi school and most of our friends have no real background to advise us. poly is still so new in our puritanical society, and there is no formula, but it has great pillars in honesty, communication, respect for self and others, and especially safe sex which means you really don't get what you want when you want it but you get to feel good about where you are and where you're trying to go. and that feeling is almost as good as sex, but it lasts, its love, its self love and its sharing and its infinite. poly is about love, its not about swinging, thats about sex. sex is awesome but poly holds love at the top. i have nothing against monogamists, i just haven't met many who aren't unhappy hypocrites or lonely idealists, i'm not judging them because i wish that weren't so. people would be so much happier all around us if it worked for more of us. i don't know for sure where i'm going, but i need to be free to find it for i-self, and the only advice i seek is positive, supportive and enlightening. i prey you have a good story to tell i soon! one~ nico

brownstone89 commented on Feb 23

 

I am sorry for the crappy monogamous men you have been with, but I would not classify or describe us all by your past experience.

I don't see how you can possibly trust a loyalty from him that you can't get from a man committed to monogamy. I figure the difference is in that in this relationship you have removed that expectation. You don't care about it, but you will. You will when he leaves you. You will when he chooses another woman to be his main connection and puts you on the back burner. I don't care what relationship someone is in, they are going to want to be special to someone. Absent this feeling of being special to them, the relationship sours. Relationships don't last 50 years or something when one feels secondary to others.

Just recognize the number one reason people cheat. It isn't for the sex it is because someone else makes them feel special and their spouse is no longer doing that. Sure some of these people are borderline narcissistic in their need to be made to feel special, but the main reason remains. 

Torpedo7 commented on Feb 24

 

I think the issue here isn't necessarily a war between the monogamous and the nonmonogamous.. I don't have anything against those who chose it, and actually have for a long while now bee wishing for someone to build something spectacular with me, that way. It's just that what I've noticed in *this* experience is that removing the expectation of ~forever~ and ~only~ has freed us up to enjoy each other without so much attention on the flaws and imperfections. I don't think that I've been with crappy monogamous men, but what I have seen is high standards, possibly unrealistic standards, on the part of the men I've dated and on my own part. I think the main thread here is an interesting comparison of the commitment to my life and body and heart and growth I have received in this relationship versus the cut and run I am so very much used to in traditional dating. I am wondering, is this a function of the guy I am with, or is it a function of the nature of polyamorus lifestyle? I don't know.

stormscavenger commented on Feb 23

 

first, torpedo 1. your comment got me thinking coz it has a lot of clarity, even though it starts a bit defensive re. crappy men. so to keep this positive since your comment is helpful and you're obviously in touch, my first reaction was that so many men DO this, we are known to, but certainly not all and i am sure there are alot of truly monogomous and romantic men and the world would be a better place if there were more. that said, we're not all wired that way. and you're right, loyalty is about integrity, and whether or not you are honest has nothing to do with your being mono or poly. But you can in fact still feel special and not be number 1. i, in particular, am fully open to the fact that i may be better at NOT being number 1. if i'm lucky enough to have true poly relationships i will find out. maybe i'll be best at being number 2, 3, 4, or 5. maybe my chick needs to have higher girls, guys, or unicorns, and maybe i'll only want 1 chick and she'll be the poly! wouldn't that make me poly? i do know that when someone lets me feel special with others i bring that right back and feel extra special with that first someone, it can be a beautiful circle. love is one of the few things you get more of when you give it away. anyone who is with me will be with me coz they find me special, and that doesn't mean i have to be the beginning and end of the world to them. and someone else's special will compete for time, energy, etc... and make it more complicated, but it may not make it any less special. life is paradox, and it may make if more special. what i do care about is honesty, depth, and knowing where i stand so that i may thrive on a firm footing. i expect i can handle the rest. torpedoe 2 - hi storm! freedom is so fucking enlightening, especially when it travels with courage and truth! it leads us to who we truly are and it is the only way to find out. its the function of poly to lay out an open and unique framework for each and every person who takes this journey since we are ALL different. this guy is part of your journey and if he is a true partner you are blessed by the connection, the inspiration and the bold push fowad in a place where you can learn about you. one~ nico

brownstone89 commented on Feb 24

 

STORM: Of course it is not a war. It is about love and feeling loved. That is what people want. It is about feeling appreciated, special, and that we matter. That we make a difference to someone. That is what matters in all relationships. Whether they be romantic, a friendship, or family.

I would think your wish for someone to build something spectacular with you is not going to go away. I can see it being diminished due to lack of success in finding it, and anyone feeling a sense of freedom in feeling a connection and not being lonely and sexually dissatisfied, but in the long run, I would predict that this feeling of being special and having something spectacular is going to come up.

I think there is a great lesson to be learned in not fretting over the imperfections or flaws and hope you might consider that this has been a major stumbling block in having your spectacular relationship. That the spectacular is more born in compatibility that is built on a foundation of love and acceptance. We are never going to be the same person intertwined in a romantic love. We are going to bring our differences.

I am glad you have not been with crappy men, that was just the vibe I got from your post. I completely agree with you that unrealistic standards to come into play in romantic relationships and not just yours, it is very common.

See when you say something like 'cut and run' it still makes me think your experience has been crappy. I think the sheer nature of 'cut and run' is crappy. I refuse to be that kind of person, because of my disdain for the behavior. I value commitment to people even if it only means friendship. I value selflessness over the pursuit of selfish desires.

I am glad this is bringing much introspection for you. I certainly hope it bring an enlightenment that helps you achieve the growth you want and need to get to a stage in life that brings you happiness and contentment.

BROWNSTONE: If my comment helped you in any way, that is cool. I am with you that there is no cut-and-dried formula to happiness in our pursuit of romance and affection. The way you stated what you did, makes me think we might (as a society) be on our way to women having multiple husbands. (I for one am against legislating consenting adult relationships, so I take no issue with adults that agree to be in a polygamist arrangement). I hope that you find what works for you and makes you happy and content with life, as well.

I had a personal experience with this. I was married. My wife and I agreed to see if sleeping with other people would be fun, as we knew we were committed to each other and would not choose someone else over each other. Well, I travelled for a living at the time and had carte blanche to sleep with whomever I wanted. I never did. I only thought of her, I had zero attraction to any other women. Given the freedom I found I was monogamous, completely.

Torpedo7 commented on Feb 24

 

Hey torpedo - Yes my experience has been for the most part, crappy. My experience with men that were interested in monogamy and I wasn't as much so. Similarly, I don't want another lover when I already have one that is for the most part satiating. I do like having the open option though. I don't know what I think about most of this. I can see all the different sides of it. I'd like someone to be special to me and I to him, with maybe some kind of loose monogamy? I don't know. Maybe I've just been talked into something with someone, and like you said above, that I'm happy with in comparison to the lack of spectacular I've had for a while? Not sure. Life is almost never really all that clear.

stormscavenger commented on Feb 25

 

No it is never clear. Everything we choose has inherent risk and potential consequences. So it isn't easy by any means.

The way you stated how you feel there seems to be an interesting dichotomy. Correct me if I am wrong of course, but it sounds like the monogamous men you have been with were not quite satisfying sexually, so you had this inner desire to be satisfied by someone else. Now you have the open option, but this lover satiates you sexually and consequently you have no desire to seek this satisfaction elsewhere. Possibly what all that means is if you find the best lover of your life (your dream of something spectacular) you won't necessarily be monogamous by definition (meaning committed by promise to them to never sleep with another man) but will in reality by not having any desire to sleep with another man.

As I stated about my marriage. At the time I was sure I would take an opportunity (given the freedom) to sleep with other women, but I just never pursued it. Our sex life was very satisfying and with my deep love for her I really had no desire for meaningless sex with someone else.

Maybe what would make you most completely happy is that special relationship with one man, where you both were free to sleep with someone else as long as you both were completely honest with each other about it if it ever did happen. Just having the freedom may be all you need to feel monogamous. The restrictive nature of the concept may be what makes you feel like it isn't for you. Like the choice to be that way is more important than it being an obligation. Maybe men that exhibit jealousy and possessiveness is what really drives you crazy, and if you found a monogamous lover that showed no signs of jealousy and possessiveness, he would be the kind of man you need.

Torpedo7 commented on Feb 25

 

As someone who has been poly/open for about 12 years and now taking a step back from it, I understand the quandary you feel. I find myself questioning it a lot lately. I know that have the capacity to love all my friends and those close to me. I also find that at the moment that if I find the one person that I click with on all cylinders, do I need to explore other relationships......or as you say, do you just want to have the option, and not necessarily go through with it (which I think you imply, but never state). I think every relationship is organic and isn't (or, to me, shouldn't) be rigid and open for development. I think that communication is what makes the relationship work over time, and if two people can discuss something as radical as being open or poly and not freak out about it, then to me I feel that at least our ideas and thoughts are being respected and the possibilities to what's available is endless.

Smear000 commented on Feb 26

 

I think if a woman has many components of her life, other goals, other wants and needs, aside from a committed relationship, she would be able to keep an open relationship with someone she is interested in--without pressing the commitment issue. Other people may perceive her as a push over because she is letting the man get away with something. But the role of women and men was created long ago and it is running it's course. People are still uncomfortable when women and men defy the roles that were created early on. It may be the case that a woman is being a push over because she does want something more. But what about a woman who is enjoying the relationship, as is, without any pressure about commitment. Why does a woman have to want something more? Biology doesn't say that, it's social norms.

netsirkw commented on Feb 26

 

right on. the open option does not have to be exercised to be fulfilling. i have often been unmotivated to use my freedom, but just having it made the love that much deeper i felt for the freedom giver. if you use the freedom wantonly you are prolly more of a swinger focused on the physical sex acts and less of a poly/open sort focused on the love. one~ nico

brownstone89 commented on Mar 1

the "Boyfriend"

It starts small. A good friend cuddles me when I come to the city to visit, staying in his bed. He and I have had this dance, the same stupid dance that boys and girls tend to have with one another when they get in close proximity of one another.  We've decided (or at least awkwardly concluded) that we should be friends... but within this friendship, we kept intimacy. When it makes sense, we spend time like this, in each others arms, talking about life... One evening on the seaport, a passerby smiled widely and called out how lovely and romantic we looked. We laughed, she couldn't have been further from the truth. And yet.. there is something about a man's strong arms wrapping a girl's body, her shoulders tired from holding up all this pride... A small break, an interruption in the solitude.

Another friend, crush turned platonic, talks to me on the phone for hours, checks in from time to time to see how I am doing, and joins me out on the town. We look good together, but we're not together. We are wingmen to each other, encouraging when it counts and scarce when its necessary. We did New Years at Jimmy Valentine's - sharing the open bar ticket that eventually had me solidly puke. He patiently waited until I was strong enough to walk straight, before our cab hailed journey home.

Then how about the Indian boy with the burning eyes and long dark hair, who walked into my life just as I was moving and loved me up and down for those long lasting day after day goodbyes? Ten days, insta-boyfriend, with an intensity that matched mine, chess and champagne, sunshine and rooftop pools, offering helpful advice, keeping me company as I packed, holding me tight as I slept - yes, that lover stopped my heart for a bit, that beautiful short bit, before another house of cards collapsed in the wake of my move. But we had each other for a moment there, and the world felt right, if only for the smallest, shortest bit.

The best are the men who have lovers and wives, and who still look at me with eyes that seem starved. I keep my distance, it just doesn't seem right to entertain anything like this seriously, and yet, I feel pity for both them and for me. We are all so alone it seems; whether one is with someone or not... and sometimes it just makes sense, to offer what we can to each other in these lonely moments. So yes, I'll make the journey to JFK for a 2 hour visit with the object of a long ago (almost) innocent two week romance from my study abroad in Prague nine years back, even though he is married now, with a small child. And I'm sorry that I couldn't help but kiss him back when he leaned in, at that last stolen hug after our final goodbye.

Sometimes I want to do an art piece, about this army of love. A face for every boy, a mounted wall of squares, moments, memories. The Brazilian from the pool who offered himself up to me on my bathroom floor, the Venezuelan who rushed me to the fed-ex field at the airport when all other locations were closed as I desperately tried to send out my grad school applications, the Gypsy who taught me how to love, and still offers his kind advice, the Persian who burns my heart inside out in anger with his false smiles, and insistent impatience, the Egyptian who looked at me with  too intense eyes of tomorrow, the man with the hat who stands by helpfully handing me tools as I take on a toilet repair with determination, the Iraninan musician who cooks and cleans my house because he is just that broke. The walks home, the sleep-overs, the disclaimers, the forehead kissers, the hand holders, the hell raisers, the movie cuddles, the all nighters. I have a boyfriend, it sometimes occurs to me, in all of these different men. He is just splintered, a kaleidoscopic cascade of parts, spread out over this or that boy. Laterally diffused over space and time, in the present, in the past, in the memories.

There they are: lovers, fuckers and friends... up and down my landscape of love. In and out, off and on. And I... you know, who the fuck am I? I am a little girl. And I am a bored temptress. And I am hungry for love. And despite this I am also afraid of it. It literally makes my heart hurt, to try and navigate this kind of inner contradiction and self sacrificing sentiment. I take these little bits because I am hungry for something serious and soulful, and they sustain me in the smallest way, but not without accompanying seeds of disillusionment. But I wonder why it is such a crapshoot, looking to build something solid and singular, sexy and sweet, out of just one of the many, many, many? Why are we so determined to keep all these options open, to remain untied, to keep backdoors open, to rush or to drag, to dominate or submit, at the expense of everything gorgeous and pure that could exist in its stead? I am not without my own impatience and anxieties, but I don't think I am alone in this. We are a schizophrenic lot when it comes to this love riddled world, so is it any wonder that it leaves us worse for the wear, the harder we try?

It troubles me that I see so much of this, and yet maintain a basket empty of the answers. All I can do is walk, keep walking, right? Head high, pride in tact, eyes wide open, heart tightly shut. And beyond all these sorrowful dramatics and hopeless romantic antics, I am reminded of a field in the words of Rumi -

Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field. I’ll meet you there.

When the soul lies down in that grass,
the world is too full to talk about.

Ideas, language, even the phrase each other
doesn’t make any sense.