On Polyamory: what, am I not special?

In case you were wondering: the sex part of polyamory, that's the easy part - it is re-learning the social norms and managing your thinking that gets complicated. In fact, so far this whole polyamory thing has involved far more talking and thinking than actually fucking. (I know, bummer.)

To be honest the talking part is actually great - fucking other people has made for an astounding leap in the way the Husband and I process our feelings and deal with each other. It has made us express vulnerability and talk it out, which has also meant confirming our commitment to one another out loud. This can't be a bad thing in the grand scheme of things.

The thinking is harder. Harder in that we keep tripping over old paradigms that I am trying desperately to banish from my head and our relationship. The Expert Guide wisely identifies one of the key problems for those in a polyamourous situation as being the "what, am I not special?" issue. From the perspective of the primary partner this means: why do you need or want to see them? Am I not enough? Or, from the perspective of the non-primary partner it manifests as: because you need to see someone other than your spouse, shouldn't you like me just a little bit more than them?

At first glance these appear to be a good questions - but the underlying assumptions are flawed. The questions presuppose that the one relationship is caused by a flaw in the other partner or that there is a contest between relationships - but you know what? It isn't about them and it isn't a contest.

When I returned from visiting the Expert Guide recently, the Husband said "how many times did you fuck him?" And - stupidly - I answered without taking his emotional temperature, figuring that he was asking because he was curious.

I figured wrong, we were having a specialness competition.

This was evident in his somewhat bitter and uncomfortable response: "he has fucked you more times this year than I have." OK, well, if we are going to bean count - for the sake of clarity we are talking about individual sex acts and not about encounters - I have seen the Expert Guide three times this calender year - I just fuck him lots when I see him. So, more? I dunno about that. (And yes, I just said "sex act" - and no, it's not a road show - you can't buy tickets. Yet.)

I admit part of the Husband's issue here is that some dude puts his cock in his wife - and apparently he does it lots and lots and over and over again. Even I have a vague understanding that this is an issue all on its own. However, I also think part of his concern arises from the fact that he is defining my relationship with him in competition to my relationship to the Boyfriend - there is only so much Errant Wife to go around, after all - so, how many times did I get in there...did I do it most, am I the winner of the pussy contest?

This is not a thought-process that is unique to the Husband. We all tend to define our romantic or sexual relationships in opposition - in a culture where one sexual partner is the norm, it is hard to conceptualize that two or more relationships can peacefully co-exist. The difficulty is how to convey that my relationship with the Expert Guide does not lessen my relationship with the Husband. To me it makes sense - after all, my relationship with my family, my friends, my colleagues - those do not detract from my relationship with the Husband - they do not make my husband less special. The difference is that none of them get me off - but really, how big a deal is that?

My husband remains unconvinced that it is not a big deal.

We are talking it out.

Honesty time? I am the queen of theoretical polyamory - generous to a fault about being shared, generous to a fault about sharing the men in my life with miscellaneous sluts of their choosing. I am smugly progressive in my poly thinking. I identify this specialness pothole when it comes to my relationship with the Husband and I can usually conceptualize it very well in discussions with the Expert Guide about the Husband. But, I do get a little stuck sometimes when thinking about the Expert Guide's wife.

Ah yes, Mrs. Boyfriend. Usually I understand and respect my role and my relationship to the Expert Guide within the context of his primary relationship. I take a secondary seat to the woman with whom he shares his life, as I should. It doesn't bother me that he is married and I do not seek to replace his wife in his heart or in his life. It isn't a contest and I don't need to be more than her, to unseat her, in order to be comfortable with my relationship with him.

However, this weekend the unusually distant Expert Guide emailed me and made a comment about "living the dream" of an open and polyamorous relationship with his wife and how it involved a lot of negotiation and how he had to tread carefully around the issue of his blonde slut, lest all be lost.

Oooh, well that tickled oddly. It surprised me that I didn't like the way it felt. I felt...uncomfortable? jealous?...less special?...like I had lost? I had my own little specialness competition, right there by myself. Particularly ironic in this instance because the words he used were the exact same words I have used to discuss my husband with him. (I have never claimed to not be a hypocrite.)

So I took a moment to reflect, realizing that my discomfort was not a rational reaction. Many would call it instinctive, but I disagree on that - I think we confuse a response that is culturally created with a response that is instinctive because the culture is so ingrained that they feel the same - it still comes from the gut, the difference is what put it there.

I gave it some thought and you know what? News flash: his relationship with his wife is not about me, not even a little. That response on my part was caused by jealousy and a culture that tells me that I need to be more special than his wife if I want to matter - either way, it is a paradigm I am working hard to reject.

I am thinking it out.

As I said, the sex part is easy, it is the rest that is complicated.

Poly

I have always been the whore, the slut, the loose friend, the one with an eye for men.

I have always struggled with monogamy. This may not be apparent from what I have written here, but even at my happiest and most in love I have had a wandering eye. I have never thought: monogamy is totally for me! God I love the idea of just the two of us for always! Sexual exclusivity has never been my default setting and and I have often wondered why.

This has been explained to me over and over again as a pathology: as a reflection of a desperate need for attention, of evidence of being damaged, depressed or insecure - and, in my more negative moments, I confess to having bought into the various you-are-broken discourses for lack of a better framework in which to understand and explain my desires and differences.

That being said, a few dark moments aside, I have largely not felt broken. But, although I have been confident in my difference, I have never really known why I was different, I have never had the lexicon or framework to explain myself.

So when I opened an email from the Expert Guide and saw these words I felt like I had been hit by lightning:

"Are you new to being polyamourous? I have been openly poly for about 10 years - all my life in the closet before that."

Oh. My. God. Excuse me while the world shifts on its axis.

Am I openly poly or am I in the closet? Just the terminology is striking - open or closeted. Open or closeted. And the casual way he said it: a straightforward and normal question as to whether I am open about my sexual orientation. As opposed to am I a slut or am I a cheater or am I unhappy with my husband and what the fuck is wrong with me, poor sad slutty girl?

I realize I am a little late to the party with this one and that this is a long standing concept, but I had never conceptualized it like that - sure, I have used the term polyamorous but I have never framed my more liberal sexuality as an orientation. To understand it an orientation normalizes it, normalizes me, in such a life changing way - it rejects the old labels and allows for a discourse in which to desire beyond the realm of traditional monogamy is not pathologized on its face.

I know some people will think this is more slut-justification, but I tell you - I read those words and something clicked for me, it really did. I can't explain it, but I knew in that moment with absolute certainty that I was seeing myself.

I read that email and I sat back as my mind whirled: I watched intrigued as labels and assumptions peeled away, as the very idea of who I am supposed to be and what I am supposed to want faded out and as I came clearly into focus.

Yep, poly. That's me.

Swinging with Bloggers, Part 3: In the Playroom

Remember: the Duchess and Topaz are writing about our night as well - click on through to get their read on it.
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The Expert Guide led us down the hallway, past the private rooms that could accommodate a few or more people seeking a little more privacy and into a large room, warm, dimly lit and with beds built into the walls - there were two or three single bed size built-ins on the left and probably what amounted to 4 or 5 queen beds side by side along the other wall. Sheer curtains hung around the bed, should the occupants decide to pull them. Oh, and there were people fucking, right there in the open. Naked and enjoying themselves before our very eyes.

I liked it already.

I hopped up on one of the single beds and gestured for the others to join me. The ladies and I sat, thrilled and voyeuristic, taking in the atmosphere. I lay on my side while we chatted and watched and the Expert Guide softly brushed a finger on my arm and then a hand on my leg, touching me gently and without expectation. Applying no pressure but slowly stoking a fire and indicating a willingness to play.

Oh yes, I wanted to play.

The combination of the slow touches and the sexually charged atmosphere was a delightfully enticing mix. Fast forward 5 minutes and I was straddling the Expert Guide: legs spread on either side of his hips, my thong pushed aside and my bra flung across my unsuspecting companions. The Expert Guide was sliding his fingers in and out of me, kissing my neck and my nipples. And during all of that the Duchess and Topaz were next to us assessing the possibilities of the sexy man across the room and Skippy was buzzing about their legs hoping against hope that he might get one of them to touch him.

Now, I will admit to being a sexually free sort of girl, but normally, on an average day, people I just met don't finger my pussy to the point where I make noises in my throat while I am sitting a foot from a couple of my girlfriends. But, you know what? Fuck normal. This was better.

At one point during our interlude Skippy stopped talking in the middle of a sentence, watching us lost in our moment. Still hoping for sex he apologized: "sorry, I was just watching...". The Duchess responded in her delightfully dry tone: "no problem, it is quite a show". Have I told you I adore my blog friends?

After a little while the others decided to head back to the bar area to re-group and I elected to remain in the back with the Expert Guide - because, dirty darlings, men, nights and opportunities like those are rare and they cry out to be fully explored.

We adjourned to one of the bigger beds across the room and we focused in on each other. I am not going to describe every flick of the tongue and every thrust of a hip...but he was incredibly warm and tender and it was utterly electric between us.

I never thought that in that context I would 1) be so comfortable or 2) be so turned on by being fucked in public, but you know what? I liked it. A lot. Maybe too much.

Much to my surprise and delight I was not even a little self-conscious about being naked, legs spread, having the Expert Guide between them licking me, or having him kneeling in front of me with his cock in my mouth and his fingers in my pussy, or having him fuck me, my legs wrapped around his back. I did not feel exposed, I did not feel on display - I just felt warm, worshipped and enraptured.

If there was one thing I took away from the night, it was how thoughtful and warm he was with me.

I have never felt less sexual pressure. He really made me feel like I could take it as far as I wanted or stop at any time. He made no assumptions or demands - at one point he asked me, should I get a condom? and I knew, with complete certainty, that if I said no thanks, not interested in fucking, it would be a non-issue. What an amazing man. What an utterly refreshing feeling. What a contrast to so many experiences where men have pushed and pushed - wanting what they could get from me and not respecting my limits - not even caring that I might have limits - experiences where I have been made to feel like I have taken it to a certain point and therefore I almost have to fuck them.

I also felt a real warmth from him: he looked me in the eyes when he slid inside me - fucking me, not just fucking. And you know what? - he called me Beauty. Sigh.

After we had our way with each other I made my way back to semi-awareness and realized I had utterly abandoned my friends. Reluctantly the Expert Guide and I made our way back to the lockers to get dressed. I arrived only to find the ladies disrobing again and looking for trouble - and by trouble I mean the hot dude the Duchess had spotted earlier.

Grabbing the opportunity for more delights by the (ahem) horns, I walked back to the Expert Guide and started kissing him and running my hand over his delightful cock...he smiled at me: do you want to play again?

Yes please.

We followed the ladies back to the playroom and hopped back on one of the single beds while the Duchess and Topaz pursued their prey to the other corner of the room. The show was quite entertaining, but I am going to leave it to them to tell you their secrets. But, I will say: it was hot. People, myself included, were watching. As you might imagine any scenario that involves those two ladies and a random buff dude - eminently watchable.

The Expert Guide fucked me thoroughly and exquisitely again. Among his many delightful qualities I must add that he is the master of angles.

The most hilarious moment of the night came (heh) when Skippy walked by the bed as the Expert Guide was fucking me from behind. I was up on all fours, gasping and thoroughly lost in the moment and Skippy, on his way out of the room, paused beside the bed and looked down at us, rolling his eyes: "oh yeah, she's never been here before."

What can I say, Skippy, I have always been a quick learner.