Cat on a Hot Tin Roof [Jan.11]

Poly sucks. Today. And whilst openness is a generally a good thing, sometimes closed is better than open. Because closed is controlled and open risks chaos.

This isn't easy to write, because I don't know what I'm thinking. Sometimes I'm thinking it's ok, or it's got to be ok, because if it's not, then really things will fall apart. Sometimes it's just not ok, not at all. But I do know, that if I write something, then something will feel easier, lighter, in myself. And it never works to just write it and leave it on the computer, it has to be 'out there', in the ether. Must be the drama queen in me.

I love someone. I fell in love, we fell in love, and we've been together quite a while now (over 9 months). We even took the step of meeting each other's families over the holidays. He was honest with me from the very first day. He's a slut. Well, not just that: he has relationships with women who he loves, and has loved for some years, as well as the one night stands. He hasn't had so many of the one night stands because mostly he's been seeing me. And I could forget about the other women because they don't even live in this country. Quite convenient, that. It was almost like having an actual boyfriend, an actual relationship, something that was real. And of course it's real. The falling in love is probably the inconvenient thing; it was all just supposed to be fun, and of course, love is fun, but it's also more serious.

Of course, we had some obstacles but those only made us stronger. He's a switch, and yes, we've switched together. Quite a mind-fuck but fun, and it made us stronger, accepting all of who we are. We initially went for quite a strong D/s dynamic, but that caused us lots of stress, him always needing to be in charge, me always feeling at fault. But again, we worked through it, we were happy. And of course we've talked a lot about our relationship being open, his being poly and whilst originally he didn't want 'his' bright shiny thing to be doing anything with other boys (girls were ok), he came around to understanding that parity was necessary to help me to come to terms with it.

And I kissed a boy, and I liked it. And it made absolutely no difference to how I felt about the one I love. And so I thought, ok, I understand, it'll make no difference to how he feels about me, if he kisses someone else. (And I know I kissed lots of girls, or really, only one special one. But somehow, to me, it was the kissing of the boy that helped me learn the lesson).

And somehow, one night, we ended up in a threesome. And I enjoyed watching him fuck the other girl. I didn't feel threatened at all.

I was concerned that he'd been spending too much time with me, that he'd come to resent me from monopolising him, from making him de facto monogamous, which isn't his natural state, which isn't being true to his self. I told him he should aim to be more of a slut this year. And he told me that he didn't have some conference in Sweden after all, but he was expecting company for a few days.

I'm glad he told me. I'm glad he had the courage to be honest with me, and had the respect for me and our relationship to be honest with me. But I hate knowing. Because if what the eye doesn't see, the heart doesn't grieve over, the eyes inside my head are seeing some pretty visual pictures right now, and my heart is definitely grieving over them. Of course, if he wasn't to have told me, but I found out, I'd never have trusted him again. And if we go on, but with an agreement not to tell me, then I will probably imagine him in those pictures all of the time he's not with me, so that will be no solution either. Pandora's box is opened and all I can hope is that when it's over and she's gone back East, I can settle back into that stupid naivety of believing he's all mine, I'm all his, and to be as before. (And I know that, to her, I'm the other woman: she pre-dates me by several years).

The hardest thing is that I can't contact him. For pretty much 6 days. Now, fair enough, when I'm with him and he gets a text or a call from a girl, he doesn't answer, he's with me. Also, if I could contact him, I'd be texting him all the time, telling him how I'm hurting. I'd be crying on the phone to him. Not being allowed contact is probably for the best. But I'm hurting and I feel abandoned and I hate it.

I've changed my name for the duration, back to rose_in_chains. I'm not His_kitten right now, I'm not feeling kitten-like and I'm definitely not his, as he's not mine. I desperately want to be kitten again, to purr at his feet, to have his hands stroke my head, to feel his hand at my throat and wonder if he'll give me breath. I hope with all my heart that when this is over, that I still want to sit at his feet, and that he still wants me to.

I worry that he'll be making comparisons of spending time with her, versus spending time with me. I've seen her pictures, she's gorgeous, hot, skinny, tall: beautiful. She's nothing like me. I wonder if it's occurred to him though that this experience might be the death-knell for us? That I wouldn't want to do it again. And if it has, he must have considered it a risk worth taking. Which hurts.

Love is a really odd thing. I know from bitter experience that love doesn't last. Love can be worn down and eroded, and eroded, and eroded, until there isn't anything left and what felt like a mountain becomes a barren wasteland. Sometimes that process takes years. Sometimes it takes less. It doesn't mean that love didn't exist, just that it couldn't stand up to the challenges. I love all of him, and that has to include the fact that he will never settle down or commit to one woman. But how long that love will last in the face of how much that hurts, I simply don't know.

So… it's the 2nd day. I'll probably be able to speak to him on Tuesday evening (but I don't actually know what time she's leaving that day - edited afterwards: she actually left on Monday). It hurts that he was ill, and now she's taking care of him, not me. It hurts that I can't tell him good morning, or good night. It hurts that there is going to be a big announcement at work on Monday and I might find out good or bad news about my job, and I can't tell him. It hurts that I can't tell him it hurts.

I know hurting is ok. I know hurting shows I care. Dossie told me herself that jealousy and insecurity and all these feelings are entirely valid, and she wished me 'profound unlearning'. He told me not to be frightened of the dark, that it was ok not to be ok. He told me to do whatever I needed to do to make it easier and get through. But I hate hurting.

Poly sucks. Today. Maybe, come the end, we'll be stronger because I'll know all of this has made no difference and we can be as before, in love, happy. So maybe then, poly will be fine. The theory, I get. It's putting the theory into practice, that's harder.

The victory of a cat on a hot tin roof is staying on it, as long as she can.