no, really, what do you want?

I broke up with my girlfriend today. I think I technically said that I "needed some kind of break" but she clarified that for me - I was asking to break up. Breaking up isn't an asking kind of thing, it's something you do, it's rarely something you agree on in a happy mutual kind of way. This wasn't in the happy mutual kind of way.

She asked me why. I gave her some reasons. Somehow when we're talking all of my brain goes to mush, all the things I've been thinking just leave my head and I can't organize my thoughts to save my life. Writing is better, but more permanent. You can't adapt to a reaction, can't clarify a badly worded sentence. It's out there, as is, not take-backs.

So why? Why do I not want to be in this relationship anymore? This relationship that, at its heart, is so nurturing. Loving. Caring. Tender. Funny. Passionate. Growing. I've learned so much from it, from her. Fallen in love with the desert. Know more about GIS than I ever thought I would. Opened up to a whole new world in kink and poly as activities and communities.

When we were together, there was still some conflict but it was better. We went to poly events but pretty quickly I stopped feeling the freedom to flirt or feel any potential develop. That first event that I went to I did feel that freedom still. When I told her a few weeks later that I had a crush it clearly made her uncomfortable, but she rolled with it, teased me about it, tried to be supportive, was relieved when I decided to not go for it. When I wanted to pursue a former flirtation (someone my GF knew was a former person in my life) she was uncomfortable and set limits, but made herself mostly ok with it until I was moderately affectionate with said person in public in front of her. We kept going to poly events on occasion, but as a couple, not open to others, and it did start to feel like a bit of a farce.

But life was busy and I already was juggling with a partner and a make out buddy, so not having the time to pursue 5 other cute women was kind of ok, it kept me cognizant of what I actually had to offer instead of just blindly pursuing people for the thrill of being wanted. So no big, right?

Play was similar. We got into it together, and as she had a few more trips to the club under her belt, she was often the leader in our explorations. Then I had my first play experience with someone else, a visiting rigger. That demo scene is the emotional place I've been searching to get back to ever since. I know my GF too well, know her insecurities and flaws. I was just naive enough to be totally unaware of the safety of what I was doing with this guy, could focus all my attention on the feeling of what was happening, on just attending to the experience itself. Being open to another person, feeling that connection in that moment. Trusting.

That was a turning point for her, too. Play with others was now something to be feared, to be compared to and found wanting. So rules. Limits. Only do this with that person, tell me what you're planning, save the rest for just us to explore. And that was ok when I was in town and we were playing together. Sure, sometimes it wasn't terribly often, but generally it was at least somewhat regularly.

Then I moved. And I wanted more. And I tried to play in the bounds, and every time seemed to cross a line. Tiptoeing, it because better to just not play, to spend months in negotiations and never actually do anything because then at least it was safe.

I got tired of things being safe. Or maybe tired of feeling constrained. I should have said it earlier, by this point even an agreement that is a big stretch for her doesn't even feel remotely adequate to me. No sadism and no power exchange pretty much takes a good deal of the fun out of it for me - even if my scenes don't go to those places, I don't want to stop them from doing so if they do.

I don't want to admit that I'm not patient enough to wait for her to be ok with all of this. The supreme irony is that my ex broke up with me because I couldn't stand being non-monogamous (yet), and then I discovered a deep desire to be poly, and then broke up with my new girlfriend because she can't stand being poly (yet). I had such good intentions with my ex, how I would move to the city where she lived and then we would open up our relationship. My GF has such good intentions, that I would move back to the city where she lives and then we would better explore poly. Irony, I think even used correctly.

tl;dr. - I want a partner who I know cares, but who is also independent of me. I'm willing to trade a little heartache and loss of feeling like someone's special "primary" in order to be able to celebrate their happiness with others, and feel them celebrate my happiness with my other partners. Someone who sees my desire to play with other people as a positive because it makes me happy, particularly when she's not there to play with me. I don't think Natalie is ever going to be ok with that, at least not where things are now. And I don't think I'm a good enough person to wait for her, not the amount of time it is going to take her to become ok with it, particularly knowing that there are some things she's pretty much said she'll never be ok with (experimentation with dudes, emotional play with others). I love her and I wish it was with her. But we're both reaching too far for this one, and both hurting each other in a way that really won't ever stop.

not again

I’m scared that I just don’t care. That I’ve stopped myself from caring. That I’m walling off, brick by brick, every time this happens. She pulls back, and I continue to reach out. I try to understand, I back off or apologize for things I thought were over, feelings I believed resolved. We get back to equilibrium, honeymoon, and it's beautiful. So much love, so much caring, so much desire, so much potential. Then I do something, she pulls back. I try and open to reach out, but it’s a little less emotional, a little more rational, a little more action than feeling. Each time it becomes a little more perfunctory, performance. Reassuring her that I’m still here through simple repetition, training her to trust me. But I’m scared that each time this happens, I’m going to keep being a little less open, closing off. I'm scared that once I’ve finally earned her trust in me being here through the hard times, I won’t have any trust left.

4 years ago

I remember when we met, when things were shiny and new, I asked you what you were looking for in a relationship.

“I’m looking for my soul mate,” you replied. “Not that there can’t be many soul mates, or other amazing relationships to be explored along the way and alongside. But yes, that’s what I’m looking for.”

It’s been 2 years since we broke up, since you called me on Skype and I cried staring at your pixelated face across an ocean and thousands of miles and said that you needed to figure out what you wanted in life.

It’s been 19 months since we last kissed, held that precious moment of hope in our hearts and let it blow away in the face of the reality of what we each wanted in life.

It doesn’t hurt as sharply as it did then. Time heals all wounds, as they say. I sometimes go days, even weeks, without thinking of you.

But you were (one of) my soul mate(s). You are, still. My heart is full of love, of hope, of the potential of the relationship I’m in, and the relationships I hope to have. And my partner is a good person, someone I love, someone I believe I will build a life with – a life that will bring me happiness.

I still miss you. My soul mate. My heart aches for the emotion of your touch.

h and h

I got a facebook message from an ex tonight. She writes me from time to time.

It was a relationship that ended badly. Or, more accurately - I ended it, badly.

It's a long story.

And yet, we've reached a point where we can occasionally be in touch. A back and forth exchange, every 6 months or so. Hello. How are you?

She still calls me "beautiful." It makes a little part of me smile and remember how she was the first one to really convince me of that - that I could be beautiful. All the more poignant because she didn't think she was, despite all evidence to the contrary.

Tonight she asked me a question I haven't heard in a long time.

"Are you happy and healthy?"

My dad used to ask me that. After I confessed at 16 that I was cutting and suicidal, after I came out at 18 to him as gay. Suddenly the rest didn't matter. He still wanted me to get good grades, and he never gave up on his dream of me becoming a doctor/getting a PhD/curing cancer. But this was the important thing, the question he asked at the end of every phone conversation, every lunch date.

Happy and healthy?

Am I?

I don't know. I'm still doing terrible things to my body in terms of how I eat/don't eat/throw up what I eat/exercise to make myself not feel guilt over what I eat. But I love food and feeding others. Right now I'm in a downward spiral of relationship mess that started only 2 days ago over something that feels big yet is really so small, and it's killing me that I can't seem to pull up the nose of the plane. But I'm happy to be writing again, and keeping mostly on top of the list of things I need to do, and to be supported and loved by friends in my life.

Will I ever be, totally?

a letter that will likely go unsent for now

I worry that sometimes we get so caught up in this idea of “healthy” relationship that we (I) forget to tell you how much I really do love you, how much I depend on you, how much your happiness means to me. We talk about ways to not be jealous, about boundaries, about how we know that the other person it not our sun and moon, our reason for living, our one and only. How weird it is in songs when lines pop up about being the only one I’ll ever love, or my only sunshine, or a myriad of other ways of saying that this one romantic relationship is the only thing that brings me meaning and happiness and drive to keep living. We giggle at Tim Minchin and think before we use those common phrases of endearment, careful to stay away from things that edge into dangerous territory.

But even in their full-cliché moments, some of those sentiments are true. We dance around it and that’s ok, I don’t know if I’m ready to make that kind of commitment either, but I hope it’s pretty clear that I am planning on spending my life with you (if you’ll have me). I know right now you’re in the depths of some pretty deep anxiety and stress and self-doubt (more than I think you’re letting on to me), and that I’m not there for you, not in the way I want to be, in the way I think you need me to be. I know that’s just the reality, and that I don’t always handle negative emotions very well, but I promise that I still want to know, still want to find ways to support you and show my love. Sometimes I’m a little dense and need you to ask for what you need, and I’m really grateful when you do! Sometimes it seems like the stress and anxiety and distance are making it hard to believe that I genuinely love you for the person you are. Please know - I’m not with you out of some kind of settling for the first queer lady I stumbled across post-(ex girlfriend) breakup. I’m not with you because I think you’ll keep the bed warm while I go out and fuck every other queer in town.

I’m with you because you make me smile. Because I see something beautiful or funny or delightful or amazing and I want to turn and show it to you. Because you nurture the best parts of me – the responsibility to examine what I believe and act accordingly, the childlike delight and wonder at the beauty of bats flying, the drive to keep learning and growing and pushing into parts of myself that maybe make me embarrassed or uncomfortable. Because you hold me so tenderly. Because you ask me what I want, and we try our best to tell each other what we both need. Because you’re willing to communicate, and to tell me when you don’t know. Because we’re learning to respect each other’s boundaries. Because even far apart, I can still feel you holding me at night. Because you delight in my smile. Because I want to see your smile, even when I’m not the cause of it. Because I want to spend sunny days hiking next to you exploring atheism, starry evenings making delicious meals to share with you while we talk about our day and how to change the world, lazy afternoons reading with my legs thrown over yours, joyful weekends hosting friends in the space we’ve nurtured together.

Seeing you happy makes my day feel radiant. Knowing that you love me and celebrate my delights feels like I’m carrying the sun in my chest. Trusting in that love…it feels scary. I didn’t think I would trust love again. It’s still fragile sometimes, and I think we both suffer because of it. When one of us is waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the other person to stop putting up with us and cut their losses and leave.

I worry that this isn’t the right thing for you. That I’m pushing you into a relationship and a model that doesn’t fit because I so badly want it to fit, because then it means that I get to be with you (and I so deeply do want to be with you). That’s all a conversation for many other days, our ongoing learning about kink and poly and what it means to us and our relationship. What we value in our connection together. What we do in times of stress. How we read each other and what needs to be said or unsaid. How we can keep growing even when physically apart instead of being in stasis, just waiting out the clock. Because I want to grow with you. I want to keep learning with you. I want to keep showing myself to you as I discover more pieces to it, and I want you to ask questions and point out things that don’t fit. Because it’s so easy for me to build up this image of you in my mind, the person I want you to be, the person you want me to be. And I can always find supporting evidence for that vision while ignoring things that don’t fit until the incongruence becomes too great.

I’m listening to this song – Pray Tell, by Anberlin. I love it for all of the inexplicable reasons that someone becomes enamored with a song, certainly not for the lyrics, which are all of those things we talk about as problems. But there’s a few lines I love:

Hide away, why do you hide away from me?

Hide yourself, let me find you

Find yourself, let me find you

Help me find myself. Help me find you. Maybe we’ll discover that this will never work. Maybe we’ll discover something even more beautiful.