You've Come A Long Way, Baby

First published on lifeontheswingset.com - Oct 30, 2015

I spent some time recently reading through some blog posts I wrote early this year. Those memories, plus a few experiences I had this week that have reminded me how far I’ve come in my open relationship adventure.

I was recalling our first swing date with another couple and remembered how freaked out I’d been about being naked in front of people. I wasn’t (as) nervous about the sex; it was really about the nudity. Sex is about doing. I’m good at doing. Nudity is about being. I’m terrible at being. Before becoming non-monogamous, I was rarely naked, even when alone in the house. Especially when alone in the house. Friends often accused me of being like Tobias Fünke (Arrested Development) who was a ‘never nude’ and even showered in jean shorts.

Since we opened our relationship, I’ve become so comfortable being naked. It’s almost effortless to hang out or wander around naked after playtimes, at the local nude beach, or alone in the house. Much of the associated fear and discomfort related to my body has eased, and I enjoy it much more. This is all a good thing, since we’re heading to Desire Resorts in a couple weeks, and I’m assuming I’ll be nude much of the time while I’m there. A year ago, I doubt I could have contemplated such a vacation.

We had a date with one of our wonderful unicorns this week and it was great. Really, really great. At no point did I wish I was alone reading a book or watching Netflix. Since our first, clumsy night together, we’ve really gelled, and our chemistry has gotten better and better. That in itself is interesting because she’s someone we hang out with regularly in a purely platonic fashion. She and I do yoga together weekly, and there’s no flirty spark when we spend time together in that realm–though I did forget myself one time in the change room and laughingly scold her about sending my husband home to me with above-the-collar hickeys. But when we start kissing, and start getting naked, wow are there sparks. It’s a really fun paradox.

My other experience this week was a first sexy-date with a guy I’ve been chatting with for a while and met up for a coffee and a walk last week. We have a really easy banter via text, but both of us are slightly awkward penguins in person. Plus, he’d never been with anyone but his wife; they married young and had had no previous sexual partners. I had no problem being his gateway-slut into the deep end of non-monogamy (in fact, it was quite a buzzy thrill to get to be that person), but wow, was it ever awkward.

I think one of the main issues was that we’re both pretty submissive (as is his wife, which is why they’ve had trouble clicking sexually). I can take charge a bit, especially to initiate things, but generally during sex, I like to be told what to do, or at least, enthusiastically encouraged what to do. So with him being completely in his head and freaked out because every single thing we were doing he’d only ever done with his wife, and me trying not to go too fast or too far, happy to ‘ruin’ him but not wanting to break him, it wasn’t the smoothest ride.

I’m definitely willing to give it a few more shots, though. I remember that ‘deer in headlights’ feeling I had when I started getting down with new partners, and I’m willing to step-up and attempt to be more dominant with him to see if he relaxes more while being bossed around. It’s really not my natural inclination, though, so we’ll have to see how it goes. Maybe it can become something I enjoy–variety is what non-monogamy is all about, after all–but maybe we’ll discover that someone else would suit his needs better. It’s a fascinating place to be in, though, as the ‘experienced’ one, considering that I still feel like such a n00b much of the time.

So as much as it’s galling to quote a cigarette ad from the 70s that exploited feminism to sell ‘slim’ cigarettes to women, it does feel like the an appropriate title and summary. From my first, panicked moments of non-monogamy to becoming the guiding hand (and lips, and pussy) on someone else’s adventure, I have come a long way, baby.

I Only Need What You Can Give - Recalibrating Expectations

I’ve been trying to work out a new approach to my secondary relationships because what I’ve been doing hasn’t been working for me. I spend much of my time riddled with self-doubt and angst--and sometimes bouts of ugly-cry tears--based on the communication whims of my partners. I just can’t do it anymore, nor do I want to.

I feel like I’ve got a couple options as far as response to the communication disparity. I can demand changes of my partners, or I can figure out how to be okay with what I’m getting. If I do the first, things may or may not change in my relationships, so I think I will be served better by the second approach, and that’s what I’m working on.

Being that I’ve been at this open relationship thing for less than a year, it’s difficult to shake the monogamous mind-set of seeing relationships as having to be a certain way or they have to end. Non-monogamous relationships don’t have to follow that model because none of my partners have to be everything to me. Accepting them for who they are and what they have to give me will free me from much of the angst I’ve been experiencing when communication doesn’t look the way it does in my ideal scenario.

Part of this shift in mindset comes from radical acceptance. I was messaging with a long-distance partner with whom I wanted to video chat/masturbate together, but it’s not really his thing. He was careful to make it clear that it wasn’t just me he didn’t want to do that with, and I had a very clear moment when I realized that even if it was only me he didn’t want to do that with, it would still be okay.

Of course, I would love to be special in my partners’ eyes. I would love it if they thought of me as often as I think of them, but it’s truly okay if they don’t. And my acceptance is not meant to be an acceptance of being treated poorly. I have a history of being a doormat, but this isn’t coming from a belief that I don’t deserve better. None of my partners are treating me poorly, they simply aren’t as chatty as I am, and don’t tend to initiate conversations as often as I do.

When I’m in a healthy headspace, I can see that for what it is--they’re busy, they don’t feel the need to connect as often as I do--but when my overly anxious or depressed brain is calling the shots, the message I hear is that I’m unimportant, merely a convenient set of holes they use when they’re horny and ignore when they’re not.

By recalibrating my dependence on the external stimulus of text messages for affirmation, I’m hoping to take away some of the power my illness can hold over me, much like my ‘I love you’ tattoo does--well, brain, you’re telling me I’m worthless, and that my friends and family wouldn’t even feel a loss if I wasn’t around, but when I was healthy, I took the time to get these words inked into my skin, so I’m going to believe them rather than you.

Thinking about love was the other part of what spurred me to thinking about a change in mindset. I’m not currently in love with any partners other than my husband, but I’ve worried that I might fall in love with one of them, and they might not love me back. I have in the past developed feelings quickly and intensely, so this has felt like a real risk. But I’ve come to realize that although it would be nice to have someone reciprocate those feelings, I don’t need that. My love wouldn’t have to be a selfish love that depended on being returned. I could simply love someone because I did, and I could enjoy loving them, and that could be enough.

As luck would have it, after pondering this topic all day at work, I heard from one of my partners that he needed to take a break from our physical relationship. He’s going through some things and needed some time to figure it out. I was able to freely and honestly tell him that it was just fine, that I was available if he wanted to chat, and that all I want from him is what he’s able to give.

All that said, I also need to figure out when I need to back away if something isn’t serving me well, when investing in a relationship that causes me more pain than joy isn’t in my best interest. In an ideal situation, I’ll be so zen that I won’t feel the pain, but I know that’s not realistic.  I’ve come to realize how one-sided one of my relationships is and I think I need to put on the brakes. I’ve had warning signs since the beginning that it wasn’t going to be a super-smooth ride, but I blithely ignored the negatives thanks to the sense-altering buzz of New Relationship Energy (NRE). I don’t feel like I need to give up the relationship entirely, just recalibrate my expectations of what I want out of it, as well as how much time and effort I’m willing to put into it.

It’s hard, though, because when things have been good, it’s been really good, and I let myself get swept up in a lovely world of make-believe where we get closer and closer. I think we may have reached our limit of closeness, though, and I know that with time, I will be okay with that. I’ve got some awkward and painful days ahead of me as I get to the other side and grieve the relationship I thought we had/were building. Once I’m through the hurt, I will come to embrace the one we’ve got.

This is a pattern I’m doomed to repeat if I don’t get myself sorted. I’ve already been through it once, and fuck, did that ever suck. I was heartbroken and miserable, and also felt incredibly guilty that my husband had to watch me going through that over another guy. I’m hoping that this time won’t be as bad because I know what I’m in for. It sucks though. I really like him. But I don’t have to stop liking him, I don’t even need to stop crushing on him. I just need to ditch any expectations I had of this becoming more than a casual thing.

Grieve the fantasy, embrace the reality. My new mantra.