When I first began my foray into the world of non-monogamy I never thought that I would fall in love, so nobody was more surprised than me when it happened. And fuck me sideways, it actually worked! There's no point rehashing the hows, whys and wherefores of the whole business - I've talked enough about it elsewhere on the blog (here, here and here for starters). So I fell in love. As did Mr O. Luckily with the same person!
We hated the idea of this incredible person being in any way 'secondary' to our relationship. The whole primary/secondary/tertiary poly thing may work for some people, but not for us. If we were going to do this, we were going to do it as equals. Equals. What does that mean? What did it mean in practice?
Well for starters, Mr O and I are very big on communication. We knew that without a fuckload of it, everything would go down the shitter. So here is what we told her from the time the three of us decided to be an 'us':
- Mr O and I had been seriously discussing for the last six months or so the possibility of getting married (and everything that is supposed to go with it - kids, house etc etc). That was completely taken off the table. How can three people be 'equal' when the relationship between person A and B is recognised by law, but the relationships between persons A and C, B and C, and A, B and C are not? And it was far to early in the relationship to start talking about how kids would work; who would have them, who would look after them, how many etc.
- Then there was my relationship with Mr O. We told her that we understood how difficult it must be to come into something like that. From the outside it looked as though we had a safety net - if things went bad we'd still have each other, she would have no one. We didn't want it to be like that. We went into the relationship with her on the understanding that if things went bad, it was just as likely that she and I would end up together, or she and Mr O, or the three of us all going our separate ways.
In other words, Mr O and I made ourselves completely vulnerable for her. We loved and trusted her so much that we were willing to put our solid and lasting relationship on the line for her.
Not long in, and in the pursuit of honesty, we came clean to her about our blog and Twitter. From that moment, we really wanted to destroy the 'us' and 'her' thing, to move closer to being three independent people in a relationship with each other. We opened up the possibility or her tweeting from our account, writing on this blog, but she chose to create her own account. We introduced her to the people we talked to on Twitter - we wanted to give her the same outlet as we had, a support network to speak to about the things none of us could tell the general world without feeling ostracised.
We began introducing her to our friends IRL. We took her to one friend's 40th birthday party, a place where we knew we could be open around friends who would understand and who wouldn't judge us. We took her to another (more conservative) friend's Good Friday BBQ, where we introduced her as simply 'a friend' and then spent the afternoon sneaking around for stolen gropes and kisses in the bathroom when nobody was looking. It was fun!
Obviously, things were going well! We were all crazy about each other (or so it appeared), Mr O and I tried to always keep our communication lines open, understanding that she didn't always feel as comfortable talking as we did, and supporting her in every way we could. We understood that things would always be harder for her, and did everything in our power to lessen the differences. We scheduled dates for her to spend time alone with each of us, we shunned our friends so that we would always be available when she was.
She was staying at our house 3-4 nights per week, so we cleaned out space in the bathroom cupboards and draws for her things. We gave her a set of keys to our house and encouraged her to come and go as she pleased, to make it hers as well. She kept bags of clothes here, and we were on the verge of moving Mr O's wardrobe to the spare room to give her room in our closets. If she'd said she wanted to move in, we would have said yes on the spot without hesitation.
We fluid bonded.
We were having an incredible amount of fun. The sex was great, we all enjoyed each others company. One day, Mr O and I decided that we'd like to do something nice for her, a gift, or a gesture to show her that we were thinking about her. I thought a dozen long-stem roses. How romantic! Mr O went along with it but then we hit a stumbling block. She hadn't told her housemate about us, and we didn't want to raise questions by sending them to her work... So we decided on a surprise trip to d.vice. She didn't have any decent toys at her house, so we thought we should get something for the three of us to use together when we were there. We managed to get halfway there (under the guise of taking her to the truly awesome cheese room at Richmond Hill Cafe and Larder) before she cottoned on to where we were headed. We had an awesome day. We turned her loose in d.vice and told her to pick anything. We ended up heading home with the Fun Factory Yooo (check it out here) - I was sooo excited and couldn't wait to try it! We couldn't really afford it at the time, but we wanted so desperately to do something nice for her that we bought it anyway*.
This was when cracks started to appear.
Mr O went out for the night and left us at home to try out our new toy together. As always seemed to be the case when left alone together, she and I slipped into our routine of lengthy D&Ms, and very little sexy times. But we had a new awesome toy to try out! I managed to get us into the bedroom, and onto the bed. We had the fucking Yooo lying between us. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't steer the conversation in a sexy direction for more than 30 seconds before she'd steer it back to a deep and meaningful. By the time we finally got naked, it was well and truly bed time. I assumed the regular position, in front of her cunt, giving her wave after wave of orgasms with my tongue, hands and of course the new toy. Finally, a half dozen or more in, I stopped. I lay down next to her and waited for... Something. Anything. After five minutes or so, she rolled over and gave me a hug. I was itching to get my hands on the Yooo and try it out, but it was over her side of the bed. Finally, she moved to my bits. After one very quick and fleeting orgasm, she lay down next to me again and went to sleep. There was no Yooo for me that night.
Next morning with Mr O back things turned to sexytimes quickly. As always, the two of us gave her orgasm after orgasm, never stopping or resting. After she'd had her fill, she lay back to watch us as we were left to satisfy each other. Mr O finally grabbed the Yooo and gave me some of the most awesome and intense orgasms ever with it. I satisfied him, he me, and that was it.
We urged her to take the Yooo home with her, with the understanding that she would bring it back next time she visited. I talked eagerly about wanting to try it again. I never got to. Every time she came back she 'forgot' it. She was always 'so sorry', and would spend the entire time telling me all of the awesome things she was doing with it, how cool it was, and how much I should try it.
In this time, I couldn't help but notice that every time I left the house for five minutes - to check the mail, to walk the dog - her and Mr O would end up fucking. Hell if I left them in bed to get up and make them breakfast they'd end up fucking. Loudly. At first I loved it. I loved hearing them, it was incredible! But then I noticed that if Mr O left her and I in bed together, I could, kiss her, caress her, do any of the pre-sexytime things and she'd turn it into a conversation. No sex for me. Of course, she never bothered to be the one who got out of bed and made breakfast for us, so I wasn't getting much action from Mr O either.
I spoke to them about it and they agreed that things were pretty uneven. What ended up happening was just that they had sex less often, not that I got any more.
Eventually I also confided in Mr O that I was feeling very unsatisfied in the sex the three of us were having. Usually, Mr O and I would go to town on her, then he'd either fuck one of us or get me off (after the incident here he has always been very concerned about making sure no one is left out), leaving himself till last. Usually in this latter part she'd just watch or maybe touch here and there. Occasionally she'd actually deign to put her face somewhere in the vicinity of my cunt, but as soon as I or Mr O touched her in any way she'd stop and just enjoy whatever was being done to her, usually leaving me unsatisfied until I either finished myself off or Mr O came to my rescue.
Mr O said I was imagining things and redoubled his efforts. Terrified I was imagining things, I held off on talking to her about it, instead trying to make the most of the extra time Mr O was giving me alone with her. I tried straight out asking for sex. I tried sitting in her lap and kissing her passionately. I tried dragging her to the bedroom. Nothing worked. There would be a little giggle, and she'd turn the conversation back to whatever we were talking about. Rebuffed time and again it became harder for me to try. Mr O finally started to see what I was seeing, and urged me to talk to her about it. I agreed, but how the fuck do you ask your girlfriend why she doesn't want to fuck you? I started steeling myself up for the 'big conversation'. Trying to find the right time to bring it up. I wanted to take her out for lunch, go somewhere neutral where we could hopefully discuss this like adults. Alas it was never to be.
That week, I got a job. Thursday we decided to celebrate, the three of us at home. We ended up having a stupid little argument over nothing, but by the time it was resolved there wasn't much celebrating happening. Friday she had to be with a family member who was having a hard time. Fair enough - we urged her to spend whatever time she needed with her family. Not wanting to waste the evening, Mr O and I went out for dinner to celebrate my new job. Saturday her family was having a party which she had to go to. She didn't invite us, even as 'friends' (remember we had taken her to meet our friends) but we figured fair enough, it's different with family. Afterward she went out with friends. We were a little confused because she never spoke about having friends in Melbourne apart from her family's friends, and guys she used to fuck. She wasn't out with her family so...?
We happened to be going out for a drink anyway, and dropped her a line saying she should come join us when she was done, or we could come to her. She didn't want either and started acting very strangely, asking why we suddenly wanted to see her, what was wrong etc etc. This of course just made us more suspicious. Who the fuck was she with?
This was compounded by her refusal to answer our texts/calls the next day. We were distraught. We'd opened our lives to her and she was fucking around behind our backs. She couldn't even be bothered telling us what she was doing (early in the relationship, when we were fluid bonding we had decided for safety's sake that any sex with other people had to be discussed with the group first). She was putting our safety at risk by fucking who knows who. Our rational sides were telling us to calm down, our irrational minds demanding answers.
Finally on Monday (while at work) she decided to speak to me via phone. In the messed up state I was in it all came tumbling out, exactly as I hadn't wanted it to. The insecurities about why she wouldn't fuck me. The agony we'd been in regarding what she'd been doing all weekend (apparently just drinking too much. And the reason she'd been weird is because Mr O and I had gone out for dinner on our own on Friday which meant we were breaking up with her. WTF?!). And in terms of the sex thing? I was making it all up, she had no idea how I could possibly think any of that, it wasn't true, and her and I had a great sexual relationship. And yeah, I guess for her it was great. All she had to do was lie there and be serviced by me.
We arranged to meet up for dinner that night, the three of us, to discuss these issues and see how we could move forward. I was a wreck. I said we couldn't be together if things stayed this way. She refused to order any food and just spent the whole time crying and refusing to talk to us. When Mr O and I tried to engage her she just responded that we had said the relationship was over so it was. A total cop-out. Refusing to take any responsibility for anything. No 'well I really want to work things out, maybe we could try this?'. No 'well yeah, things haven't been great and this isn't working for me, let's call it a day.' Nothing.
Actually, more than nothing - she walked out on us. Walked out. There we were, ready to do whatever it took to make things right and she fucking walked out. A fight erupted over text. I think we all said some things that in hindsight weren't the most constructive.
In order to make some kind of attempt to save my sanity, I had to just distance myself. I couldn't handle it. I know that Mr O made numerous attempts over the next few weeks to reconcile. To beg her to call me, because he knew it would only to take one call to make everything better (and if you knew Mr O, you would know how out of character that was). Her response was always the same, we had said it was over so it was.
I started to think about the whole relationship. For all of our 'communication', it was always Mr O or I starting the conversations. She mainly just said 'yes' to whatever we said. In the months we'd been dating, she had bought Mr O dinner once and made us dinner once - we'd paid for everything else. We'd bought an expensive sex toy that ended up at her house - she never gave it back or offered to cover the purchase price. The sex, from beginning to end, was all about her. And it dawned on me:
She was fucking using us!
That would explain why she didn't give a shit. Why she didn't want to try. Why she never told either of us that she loved us. And I felt even worse than before. How could I have been so fucking stupid? How could I have let her have so much power over me? How could I have opened up to someone, shown them the innermost parts of myself, loved them, and all the time not noticed that they were just enjoying the free ride? Enjoying the expensive dinners out that we couldn't afford? Enjoying having two people lavish their every attention on her? Using us for everything we were able to give?
Every now and then, I'd look her up on Twitter. I dare any of you to say you haven't done the same with an ex... And yep, there she was, talking to all those people who we had introduced her to, thoroughly enjoying being the 'desired' unicorn (a concept we'd jokingly told her about). And one thing I couldn't help but notice was her constant reference to 'sexy underwear'. Now in the 18months or so I knew her, I never once saw her wear sexy underwear, so this could mean one of two things:
a) she's lying to the good people of Twitter to appear cooler, or
b) she never thought Mr O or myself were worth making an effort for.
Option a) just makes her look like a sad little person, but option b)? Well that's too devastating to even think about. Did I seriously mean that little to someone I loved that they couldn't even be bothered to put on a pair of sexy undies for me? I'd always just assumed that she found it difficult to find sexy things due to her size, and had never mentioned it in case it was a sore point... But if she does own sexy underthings, then fuck me. I guess we're just that much more stupid, right? She didn't even have to make an effort to reel us in hook, line and sinker!
Do I sound bitter? You betcha! Because I haven't even gotten to the best part! I was so messed up about the whole sex thing (was there something wrong with my bits? did I smell funny? was I a horrible lover?) that I completely lost my sex drive. Mr O wasn't able to touch me for over a month after the breakup, and I still find sex difficult sometimes. At first even hugs were difficult for me. I would lie in bed in tears because I wasn't able to be intimate with the love of my life. And he was so understanding throughout that whole period which just made me feel worse about not being able to give him pleasure. I couldn't even use toys on myself - within 5 seconds the feeling would be so unpleasant I'd have to stop. The first time we met Mr and Mrs Fucktastic (of this adventure), was right towards the end of this period. I was starting to get a little better, but Mr O was still concerned enough about me to make sure we left that first meeting without sexytimes (and sorry that we weren't able to explain this fully at the time guys, how could we?! Know that I did want to fuck you both that night...).
I had been ready to introduce her to my father who is visiting very soon. We were ready to blow our lives wide open in our social and work circles for her. I could go on...
So now you ask, why do I bring this up after all this time? Well, for starters I'm sick of waking up in tears and hating to talk to Mr O about it because I know it makes him sad too and yet having to talk to him because who else am I going to tell? And yes, I still cry about this person who treated me like dirt. Partly because we had some fucking great times together and I miss her, partly because I hate myself for being so fucking stupid.
Another reason is that she's finally stopped using the name we gave her on Twitter. We don't like to identify people in our posts so it felt unfair to talk about someone that so many of you converse with. Her new name isn't that different, and many of you still talk to her, but I feel its enough distance to finally be able to voice my feelings.
As always, this isn't meant to be an attack on anyone. This blog is a place for us to vent about our feelings. It is a place for catharsis. It is our private scream into the universe, and we hope that by putting it out there we may be able to help someone who is in the same situation feel as though they are not alone. Because you are not alone.
Mr O and I are moving on with our lives. We're officially engaged with a rock and all. We're even more in love with each other than before. 'So', you say, 'she was right at the beginning. She was left with nothing while you two have each other'. True, Mr O and I are still together, but we were also the only ones who made an effort. If we hadn't kept our communication lines open this could easily have destroyed us. My sexual winter that followed could have destroyed us. If she hadn't walked out that night, if she had been receptive to any of Mr O's attempts at reconciliation things could have ended up so much differently. Mr O and I are the kind of people who jump in at the deep end, if we're going to do something we're going to do it properly goddammit! We meant everything we said and were prepared to follow through. She wasn't.
It would be nice to have some closure, to finally find out if we ever meant anything to her at all. But I guess we'll never have that.
- Miss O xx
(*NB: given the size of my sex toy collection, some people seem to have the mistaken assumption that we're wealthy. We're not, sometimes we struggle to pay the rent or get through the week. We just spend all our money on good food, good booze and awesome sex toys, so yeah I kind of have no sympathy for people who whinge that they can't afford a decent vibrator and get jealous of all of mine. If you want something badly enough, you'll make room for it in your budget.)
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