Let me be clear…. blatant honesty (and apparently an update about K)

Ok… so I got hit on and asked out by the barista today. Conversation went something like this.
Barista: are you still seeing that guy?
me: yes. are you still with you gf?
Barista: yeah, but I was hoping we could get together.
me: are you in an open relationship?
Barista: no.
me: then nope.
Barista: why?

I’ve had this happen before. A person knows that I’m poly and immediately thinks it is not only ok to hit on me (Barista started talking about how he’s fantasized about going down on me. Whoaaaa dude! You barely know me!!!) but that I’m somehow going to excuse them from cheating on their significant other for a little side action??? WTF?

So let me make this abundantly clear; and please note that this is just me. I’m not speaking for any other poly person, or for any other person. Just myself.

I do NOT do casual sex. I don’t judge people that do. If that’s what you’re into, as long as no one is getting hurt, then do as you please. However, I can’t and will not do that. I form emotional attachments very easily, and I grew up believing that to sleep with someone was a way to get them to fall in love with me. Now, obviously that is erroneous thinking on my part, but that’s what I thought when I was a young teenager. I can’t just have sex with someone I don’t care about. I have to be really close friends with you or dating you. Hell, just kissing someone, for me, involves a level of attachment and close connection. I’m not all running amok helter skelter shoving my tongue down people’s throats or dropping my panties. I’m just not wired that way. Again, it’s cool if you are wired that way, but I’m not.

I informed the barista that I am polyamorous, and that I believe in full disclosure. I have cheated on partners, and have been cheated on by partners, and it sucks. I fucked up horrifically and epically in the past with relationships. I am a grown ass woman, and if I am going to do something as intimate and important as kiss you, sleep with you, be in a relationship with you, then I demand that you be a mature person about it as well. I am nobody’s dirty secret! Our bodies are sacred and I will treat the experience with you thusly. I demand to be treated the same. If someone is in a closed committed relationship, I’m not going to help you cheat on your partner. Again, I’ve done it before, and it’s a weird feeling.

Additionally, I am in an amazingggg relationship with my partner. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to purposefully do something stupid to fuck it up. I don’t care how adorable you are or how many compliments you give me. I speak very openly with Alan, and if I am interested in someone, I talk to him about it.

Case in point:
K: Alan has known for quite awhile now that I am wanting to date K. K and I have liked each other for a long long time. We’ve had a connection since the first moment we met. At the time it wasn’t right for either of us to be considering dating each other, so we didn’t pursue it. We flirted and talked, but that was it. Alan met K, and he feels that I wasn’t forthcoming about my feelings and my wanting to date K when he was introduced to K.

This is something I am still dealing with. I have apologized multiple times, but to Alan I didn’t handle the situation appropriately. And I feel like shit for it. So of course it’s put a bad taste in Alan’s mouth at the mere thought of K and I dating.

Add on top of that that K has kinda been an ass to me quite a few times in the past, making me cry- a lot; and that he hasn’t seemed to put in as much effort into our relationship as Alan thinks he should. This had led to Alan not really wanting me to date K. To him, if someone is not investing in a relationship with me as much as Alan does, then why should I give myself to that person. And I get it, I understand Alan’s hurt and frustration with the situation. But he loves me, and he knows that K is very important to me, so he’s tryingggggg to get past his hang ups and come to terms with me dating K. It is a sensitive subject to say the least.

K has come leaps and bounds from when we first starting talking about being together. I expressed my concerns (him dropping off the planet for months at a time with zero communication with me being the biggest hurdle) and he is making strides at doing better. And for the most part he’s been muchhhh better. We are texting each other almost every day. And in my opinion, if we’re going to have a real full-time relationship (not that we can see each other every day, but have the type of relationship that is full and healthy and loving) then there needs to be communication every day. And we need to see one another like once a week or every other week, minimum.

K and I both suffer from debilitating depression and migraines. So I understand that sometimes it requires a lottt of effort to want to do anything more than cry and sleep. However, Alan has built a life with me and my issues- we’ve been together three years, and I plan on spending the rest of my life with him. And I know that K has a life outside of me, and I’m cool with that. But in order for “us” to work, changes are going to have to be made. We have to both feel invested in this, and we have to both put in a great deal of effort to make this work. Why? Again, because I don’t do casual. K and I have both professed a deep love for one another, and if that is the case, then we have to both contribute equally to this endeavor. I hope it works. I really really do.

So yeah, that’s my little world at the moment.


My truth

my truth is purple. the bruises you so lovingly administer, carefully placed. i watch and poke and probe them as they turn blue to a sickly green. the delicious pain and changing color reminds me of your love, our unique love.

and purple is the color of royalty but i didn’t feel royal when he choked me out of anger, or when he pushed me down even though i whispered “no.”

my truth is in my eyes- honest, showing all i feel. my eyes express the love i share with many, giving to all i see. hands held, holding your hand and your hand and your hand in mine. rubbing circles and words into your flesh until i create a hole i can crawl into and lose myself and find myself simultaneously.

my truth is my sexuality that i own, though others have tried to steal it time and time again. i give you my love freely but you cannot just take my flesh when i wear a low cut blouse, or try to enter it for a paid meal, or exclaim it is yours because we are “together.” my body is mine and i will share it with you in love, in passion, tenderly and roughly. bend me over and fuck me yet whisper sweetly that our love is true. but know this, i decide when i can share my flesh and my soul and my heart and my mind with you. i am not a prize to be won or an object to be stolen, the strength of my spirit must be earned by you to experience.

and my truth is exponential love tempered by exponential pain. a body that is broken and a brain that is so torn in two it yearns to break free from its eggshell so much that it tries to crack in two, splitting me into shards of broken glass that no amount of superglue can hold together. a spine that is twisted and carries a greater weight than what is “acceptable” by american society.

i should have been painted by bottecelli, for i am the venus on the clamshell. i am curves and hair and softness and round breasts and an even more plump derierre. i am not tall and graceful and lithe like a ballet dancer; but short and clumsy, tripping over my mutant small feet. for how are something so small supposed to carry the weight of my wonderfulness? of my goddess form that only a few deem “worthy.” yet if you but sought passed the flesh that is so delicate yet resiliant, you could see the battle scars of my life stretched along my thighs, and the pain that i have tried to understand by digging into my skin, so that the sun gives me away and shows my secrets. but it is my scars that help to make me me, for they are etched in my skin to show you my past and are a battle cry of what i have conquered, that no amount of bullshit can bring me down. and if you but look into me instead of just at me you would find an unbelievable love and compassion for everyone.

and my truth is different from your truth. but mine is just as beautiful and exquisitely tortured and wrent in two as yours.

and rather than biting, clashing, tearing each other apart, gnashing our teeth and beating our chest screaming to proclaim our truth to be more valid than the other, what if we held arms, clasped fingers and held one another in the comraderie of being fucked up? because our truths are not a contest to be won but a link of pain and beauty and a longing to connect to another.

let’s be different and fucked up together. and instead of pointing fingers of superiority at others in exclusion, why don’t we embrace them too and proclaim ourselves elegantly fucked up together, or own little club where everyone is loved openly without stupid labels that set us apart and divide us like countries to be battled and conquered. we don’t need flags of ownership; we own ourselves and that should be enough. the rest let’s just give. i give my truth to you. we can share it and cherish my truth and your truth together in all its complexity until we just exist in a fit of giggling randomness at it all.