I've really fucked up.
Having written about polyamory with an honesty and hope, I disregarded almost all of my lighter thoughts on the matter and regressed to childish irrationality when confronted with the reality of it yesterday.
In my blog yesterday, I wrote "Is acceptance really enough to make a polygamous relationship work? Surely, if it is to be truly successful one needs more than mere acceptance, otherwise there is an underlying current with a potential for the most disturbing and destructive eruption."
Prophetic indeed!
I erupted.
I fucked up big time.
My lover was enormously understanding. He enabled me to vent my emotions. He allowed me to wallow in self-pity. He told me he loved me when I know how much he hates trivialising our relationship with such a phrase. He was completely honest with me and frankly, I threw it all back at him in a moment of disrespect and impetuosity.
I feel so bereft and angry at myself because all he had done was sleep with another woman. No big deal. He'd even prevented himself from having penetrative sex for concern over my feelings and yet I still had to react so dramatically because despite aspiring to an open polyamorous relationship, I fucked up and behaved as though he had cheated on me.
He hadn't. He can't.
I'm the cheat, not him.
And after I had exploded, after I had accused him of provoking such a reaction in me (not by telling me about him sleeping with this woman but by doing it knowing I was likely to act so pathetically), he reminded me that I'd had it my way for too long, i.e. I had had him all to myself without other lovers, without polyamory for too long. Four years to be precise, with four years prior to that when I was the "other woman".
I'd also had it my way too long by asking him to be open and honest with me, as suggested in all websites on polyamory. He knew it would end up like this. I merely thought lack of knowledge would do more damage than honesty. I'm still not sure which is best but all sites I've visited on polyamory suggests that honesty really is the best policy, and perhaps the destructive emotions that come from it will diminish in time.
Ah yes, I'm well aware of the irony all right. I'm well aware of the contradiction of being on the receiving end of a new polyamorous situation and the opposite of being the other woman, of choosing to participate in sexual relations with this man in spite of the fact that I knew he had a long-term relationship and commitment.
And he's right, on both counts.
I am a hypocrite due to the fact I am allegedly in a "committed" relationship, albeit not in a sexual relationship with my partner. In fact, I do not share a bed with my partner for a reason that is patently obvious and not to do with the one that I have used as an excuse.I am a hypocrite because I was perfectly prepared to indulge in a sexual relationship with him knowing about his primary relationship. Seems I was persistent, which may or may not be a complement.
"I kissed a girl and I liked it!" he said.
"I was living with open fidelity and I liked it". I said.
I liked it because I was happy for him to look. I liked it because it gave us time to develop our relationship. I liked it because I became the most significant person in his life. I liked it because the sex was brilliant. I liked it because I felt secure in his passion for me and our relationship.
None of the above has changed. So why did I react so painfully? Why did I fuck up?
Because despite the general belief in a polyamorous existence, give or take the smallest of odd dalliances, essentially ours was a relationship of fidelity. Oh yes, I carefully ignore my own marriage at this point because it suits me to do so, even though I don't have sex with my husband and even when I did, it was out of duty NEVER out of passion, never.
Having written about polyamory with an honesty and hope, I disregarded almost all of my lighter thoughts on the matter and regressed to childish irrationality when confronted with the reality of it yesterday.
In my blog yesterday, I wrote "Is acceptance really enough to make a polygamous relationship work? Surely, if it is to be truly successful one needs more than mere acceptance, otherwise there is an underlying current with a potential for the most disturbing and destructive eruption."
Prophetic indeed!
I erupted.
I fucked up big time.
My lover was enormously understanding. He enabled me to vent my emotions. He allowed me to wallow in self-pity. He told me he loved me when I know how much he hates trivialising our relationship with such a phrase. He was completely honest with me and frankly, I threw it all back at him in a moment of disrespect and impetuosity.
I feel so bereft and angry at myself because all he had done was sleep with another woman. No big deal. He'd even prevented himself from having penetrative sex for concern over my feelings and yet I still had to react so dramatically because despite aspiring to an open polyamorous relationship, I fucked up and behaved as though he had cheated on me.
He hadn't. He can't.
I'm the cheat, not him.
And after I had exploded, after I had accused him of provoking such a reaction in me (not by telling me about him sleeping with this woman but by doing it knowing I was likely to act so pathetically), he reminded me that I'd had it my way for too long, i.e. I had had him all to myself without other lovers, without polyamory for too long. Four years to be precise, with four years prior to that when I was the "other woman".
I'd also had it my way too long by asking him to be open and honest with me, as suggested in all websites on polyamory. He knew it would end up like this. I merely thought lack of knowledge would do more damage than honesty. I'm still not sure which is best but all sites I've visited on polyamory suggests that honesty really is the best policy, and perhaps the destructive emotions that come from it will diminish in time.
Ah yes, I'm well aware of the irony all right. I'm well aware of the contradiction of being on the receiving end of a new polyamorous situation and the opposite of being the other woman, of choosing to participate in sexual relations with this man in spite of the fact that I knew he had a long-term relationship and commitment.
And he's right, on both counts.
I am a hypocrite due to the fact I am allegedly in a "committed" relationship, albeit not in a sexual relationship with my partner. In fact, I do not share a bed with my partner for a reason that is patently obvious and not to do with the one that I have used as an excuse.I am a hypocrite because I was perfectly prepared to indulge in a sexual relationship with him knowing about his primary relationship. Seems I was persistent, which may or may not be a complement.
"I kissed a girl and I liked it!" he said.
"I was living with open fidelity and I liked it". I said.
I liked it because I was happy for him to look. I liked it because it gave us time to develop our relationship. I liked it because I became the most significant person in his life. I liked it because the sex was brilliant. I liked it because I felt secure in his passion for me and our relationship.
None of the above has changed. So why did I react so painfully? Why did I fuck up?
Because despite the general belief in a polyamorous existence, give or take the smallest of odd dalliances, essentially ours was a relationship of fidelity. Oh yes, I carefully ignore my own marriage at this point because it suits me to do so, even though I don't have sex with my husband and even when I did, it was out of duty NEVER out of passion, never.
But yes, I got used to it, being the only woman currently in his life. I had the slippers on, even if I knew they were only temporary.
We were in a situation that some might term as being in an "open fidelity". Only retrospectively we never really discussed what that meant other than a general "acceptance" of non-exclusivity.
The other irony is that there is a part of me that gets so hopelessly turned on by him fucking and kissing other women. I adore his sexuality and get off on thinking about him, imagining him sticking his substantial cock into another needy pussy. Only as soon as I am faced with the reality of this, I freak. I reverse into this unfounded notion that this will all have a major detrimental effect on our relationship, without fully appreciating the negative effects are mainly regarding my response not him doing it in the first place.
I told you all I fucked up.
I told him today, or yesterday, that the sex wasn't the issue. For me it was the intimacy I found challenging despite knowing that he cares for me, despite knowing I was the most significant person and the most significant relationship in his life.
So I cried. I questioned. I felt hurt. I was angry with myself. I was angry with myself for being angry with him. I accused him of being disrespectful of our relationship when he has done nothing of the sort. I accused him of shifting, changing our relationship when it was my reaction not his actions that were causing any amendment.
Me me me me me. Not you you you. Not you you, me me, us us etc
Ultimately, I challenged him, without saying so, that he had to decide between him being him and enjoying sex and friendship with others and our relationship as though the two were mutually exclusive.
Decide for the time being, not permanently, until I have become more than accepting of this newness in our relationship. His decision though.
He's right. I have had it my way too long. And I liked it.
And now I've fucked up.
Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I should have had an all out blow-up to get rid of the irrational before it imploded in the company of others. Maybe too much had been said and we were both drained and should have just stayed in.
My implosion at one misinterpretation of his more rational and reasoned questions was enough.
We were in a situation that some might term as being in an "open fidelity". Only retrospectively we never really discussed what that meant other than a general "acceptance" of non-exclusivity.
The other irony is that there is a part of me that gets so hopelessly turned on by him fucking and kissing other women. I adore his sexuality and get off on thinking about him, imagining him sticking his substantial cock into another needy pussy. Only as soon as I am faced with the reality of this, I freak. I reverse into this unfounded notion that this will all have a major detrimental effect on our relationship, without fully appreciating the negative effects are mainly regarding my response not him doing it in the first place.
I told you all I fucked up.
I told him today, or yesterday, that the sex wasn't the issue. For me it was the intimacy I found challenging despite knowing that he cares for me, despite knowing I was the most significant person and the most significant relationship in his life.
So I cried. I questioned. I felt hurt. I was angry with myself. I was angry with myself for being angry with him. I accused him of being disrespectful of our relationship when he has done nothing of the sort. I accused him of shifting, changing our relationship when it was my reaction not his actions that were causing any amendment.
Me me me me me. Not you you you. Not you you, me me, us us etc
Ultimately, I challenged him, without saying so, that he had to decide between him being him and enjoying sex and friendship with others and our relationship as though the two were mutually exclusive.
Decide for the time being, not permanently, until I have become more than accepting of this newness in our relationship. His decision though.
He's right. I have had it my way too long. And I liked it.
And now I've fucked up.
Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I should have had an all out blow-up to get rid of the irrational before it imploded in the company of others. Maybe too much had been said and we were both drained and should have just stayed in.
My implosion at one misinterpretation of his more rational and reasoned questions was enough.
My instinct which I'd suppressed earlier. My instinct that was wrong to act on. His instinct the night before was not wrong and he acted on it. Sometimes we just have to accept instincts for what they are, good and not so good, hurtful or not, deliberate or not. There are consequences in everything, honesty or not.
I'd said I was tired. He was too.
We should have stopped. We had done enough talking.
And after all of that I walked away feeling bereft, leaving him with understandable anger.
I fucked up. I can't retract what has happened. I fucked up and I wish I could have responded differently.
I wanted to respond differently, more intelligently, more trustingly.
I fucked up which is why for the second time on a Friday morning Dawn chorus I am sitting in bed writing.
I fucked up and I'm sorry. so fucking fucking sorry.
I'd said I was tired. He was too.
We should have stopped. We had done enough talking.
And after all of that I walked away feeling bereft, leaving him with understandable anger.
I fucked up. I can't retract what has happened. I fucked up and I wish I could have responded differently.
I wanted to respond differently, more intelligently, more trustingly.
I fucked up which is why for the second time on a Friday morning Dawn chorus I am sitting in bed writing.
I fucked up and I'm sorry. so fucking fucking sorry.
And still am. And am still suffering too.
............................................................................
Please, if there are any polyamorists out there who could give a little support to someone who has lost their way on this most obvious of arrangements, give me a helping hand because I need it. All advice gratefully appreciated.
xx
