Ethical non-monogamy and the full moon. (And the follow up.) (Patreon)

I originally posted this on tumblr, but was never able to post the follow up to this story. I realized I can share it here now.

“Don’t look at the full moon with her. It would break my heart.” I know it’s unreasonable so I never ask, but I wish I could. I know better though, I know the moon doesn’t belong to me, and neither does he. Standing under the moon is a different thing between any two people, I know this, but it feels like mine. 

Never let her turn around and kiss you on the stairs the way I do.

Never let her write stories on the back of your neck with her fingernails after you fuck.

Never let her fall asleep on your shoulder, in the crook of your arm, the one that’s just the right shape for me to nestle against.

I know in my heart it’s not just for me, I know it’s human-shaped, not me-shaped, but let’s pretend okay? Let’s pretend you were built just for me. What a pretty little fantasy. 

Let’s pretend that there were rules that could protect us, that if we just stayed within the right boundaries this would never hurt. Let’s pretend we can legislate our feelings, follow the red tape, let’s pretend regulations and a page of things we Can Not Do would be simple, like a grocery list. You never look at the moon with her and I’ll never let anyone brush my hair out of my face when it’s messy. I’ll never let anyone kiss my baby toes or hide my face during movies at the scary parts. I’ll never slow dance in the kitchen with anyone but you. 

Until I’m dancing, in a different kitchen, with someone who isn’t you. It’s a different dance, of course. They don’t hold me like you do, they’re cooking dinner and I touched them, it drew them to me, and next thing you know we were dancing. It doesn’t feel like a travesty or an invasion of our space, your space, my space with you. It feels like dancing in the kitchen with someone else. It’s wonderful in it’s own way, but different entirely. 

That’s why it would be a silly rule; You can outlaw an activity but you can’t control the intimacy between two people, the way any arbitrary act can feel magical, the chemistry at play. These things are not compartments you can lock up or barricade, they are life experiences, lived moments. Building blocks to connections that neither you or I can predict. We have to trust in what we’ve built together, and all the unique ways we make each other happy. The moon is going to look amazing tonight, no matter whose hand you’re holding as you look towards the sky. And if there’s fireworks between two people, you wouldn’t need the moon to see them. We can feel how we feel, that’s the deal. 

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I wrote this post in June of 2017. My partner at the time, Mr. J, gave me a heads up that he’d be going on a date to meet a girl he’d been chatting with online.

In the past he’d been a poor communicator about plans and intentions. It helped him to manage his own anxiety about first dates if he downplayed the whole thing, “meh I dunno, we’re grabbing coffee, no big deal, I’ll text you soon”... and often, to his surprise the date would go well. And he’d get caught up and swept away in that excitement, and next thing you know it’s Sunday afternoon and his date still isn’t over. While I was happy for him for connecting so easily with new people, it often made me feel discarded, like an afterthought. Like I wasn’t important enough to update or make time for because there was someone shiny and new in front of him. I dreamed of spending weekends with him, grabbing brunch, and lazing around in bed, but my schedule didn’t allow those kinds of spontaneous endless dates, so I was naturally jealous of anyone who had that kind of flexibility. There were a lot of feelings at play.

On this particular night he’d promised me to be mindful of my feelings, and he didn’t have high expectations for the date, “I’ll grab a drink and then head home, I’m tired anyway.” That drink turned into an 8 hour first-date under the gorgeous full moon that ended as the sun was coming up. How romantic.

I wrote this post that night about rules and freedom and the full moon to process my feelings about him doing something he was fully entitled to do. That’s the thing, just because it’s hard doesn’t mean I would want to take long spontaneous romantic first dates away. (Who doesn’t love those? The buzz of clicking with someone new, the electricity when the chemistry is right.) It just means sometimes the moon is extra full and beautiful and it’s a little harder than usual. It’s allowed to be hard. And I’m allowed to struggle with it. And writing this post really helped with those feelings that night.

I added these cheeky tags:

But he was full of surprises. Always. And not the fun kind. And this new partner was a challenging human, and his connection with her was intense. They started a roller-coaster relationship that moonlit night.

As their connection deepened over the next few weeks I asked him not to share my blog with her. It made me uncomfortable for a bunch of reasons, here are some of them:

• I wanted it to remain a safe place where I could vent and process about my feelings and relationship stuff.
• If she’s going to be important in his life I want her to get to know the *real* me, the parts I share with the world every day, and not build that impression of me off of my kinky hyper-sexual nude-selfie blog.
• I was uncomfortable with the idea of giving this woman (who is new to kink and starting to build her own dynamic with my Dominant) a literal map of our sexual exploits and interests.
• One of his previous partners read my blog and started asking him to do specific scenes and acts “like you did with Heart” and it was icky for both of us.
• Having one tiny thing I could ask for helped me feel just a tiny bit in control, in a situation that felt difficult.

He agreed that this was a totally understandable and reasonable request. And then a week later he accidentally sent her a link that contained my tumblr blog url. And she spent the afternoon scrolling through years of content before he realized his mistake. She thought the share was intentional, an invitation to look a little closer. She read as much as she could, including the angsty full moon post about their first date, and the blurb I wrote about feeling her presence in his apartment. I didn't want her knowing my darkest fantasies or my deepest insecurities. But there was no un-doing his mistake. And these are the drawbacks of having a public blog about your stupid sex life. I was embarrassed.

A few weeks later I arrived at his apartment for our weekly date, I looked around the living room and noticed that he hadn't cleaned up after his date with her, their take-out dishes were still sitting out, and the lube was on the coffee table, indicating they'd fooled around right there on the couch. Then I noticed the new poster up on the wall. I took a closer look and felt the wind knocked out of me. She'd had a print-out made of the night sky on their first date. The same full moon I didn't want to share was now forever-hanging over his couch commemorating this special night, June 9th 2017. It felt pointed, and intentional, like a nod to my anxieties. I wanted to light the whole room on fire and run. I was upset and full of emotions. I couldn't breathe. 

Here's the thing. It's very possible, even likely, that it wasn't intentional. Even at that moment I could recognize what a lovely and thoughtful gesture the poster was. I could simultaneously be happy for my partner, marvel at what a sweet idea this gift was, and also feel tender about it for my own personal reasons. There needed to be space for me to have feelings, and process those feelings. There needed to be empathy on all sides. It's possible that the poster was an act of war against me, it's also possible that it was an act of love for our shared partner, and not about me at all. I'll never know. The universe certainly has a sense of humour. It seems to really rub some lessons in, doesn’t it?

We made plans for her and I to meet, to start building a relationship of our own instead of one mediated through shared space and a shared partner, but they broke up a few weeks later. He kept the poster up for the remainder of our relationship.

Having multiple partners is a complicated thing. It takes a lot of work, and a lot of compassion for each other. And compassion for each other’s partners. It takes patience as we watch someone we love feel something, and process something, and try their best to communicate all of that to us. It takes an awareness of our priorities and our short-comings when we’re faced with something new. It takes accepting that we can’t control our loved ones feelings or responses or needs. We can feel how we feel, that’s the deal.