Poly Nirvana

Love, Life and Rational Polyamory

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People who know me laugh when I say that I’m shy.

Apparently I fake being outgoing incredibly well.

After some thought, and acceptance of How I Am, vs Who I Should Be (according to who? Society? The media? The image in my head of how a grown-up lady is supposed to act and feel?) I have come to the following conclusion:

I am an introvert.

When I’m feeling good, emotionally, physically, whatever, I can push through the anxiety and navigate new people. I can be in a crowd, I can make the small talk. I may even find it pleasant to be in a social situation.

But it’s never, ever, easy. People scare me. New people, casual acquaintances, old friends… they all pretty much scare me. Or annoy me. Or bore me. .

So this past weekend, as I headed up into the mountains for a big group camping trip, with people I was fairly familiar with, I was nervous. Even apprehensive. I had verbalized to Mister, my self-defined functioning parameters. 1) Practice my small talk. 2) Withdraw if I needed to, and not feel guilty or “less-than” if I needed some quiet alone time. It was important for me to say these things out loud, not just for myself, but for him as well. He is an extrovert who loves talking to people. We have had issues in the past, wherein he has interpreted my quiet presence at the fringes of a group conversation, as being unengaged, uninterested, anti-social, even sulky. And for a long time, I tried to be what I thought he wanted me to be, and I felt like a failure most of the time.

But now I’m free. A free, happy, self-proclaimed introvert. Granted, I may be an extrovert-leaning introvert, but as with anything, things are rarely black and white, but rather a sliding scale of gray. I had a good weekend. I went in without expectation. And I had a good time! I talked, and visited, and rolled with whatever came my way, and when I needed to recharge, I withdrew, for an hour here or there, to my quiet loft room with the polka-dot sheets and the stripey quilt. (Yes, it was cabin camping, complete with my coffee maker and real bathrooms. So, maybe not exactly camping per se, but it was in the mountains. I had to drive on a long and winding dirt road to get there, and there was no cell service. That’s camping according to Ginger.)

I like me. I like who I am. I see room for improvement, but that will come.

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I can’t write. I am frozen, because my self-edit button is constantly on. I’m not quite anonymous here, and I’m constantly wondering who I know, knows that this is me. I know my guy does, which means my Metamour does. So when I want to say something like, “I’m pretty sure my boyfriend’s wife wishes I would just go away,” I know she will likely see that. As will he.

What I would like to say is this: I think she actively dislikes me. I worry sometimes that Mister will tire of trying to move between the two of us, and our two years together will lose out to their fifteen years. I need more sex. I want more attention. People scare me. Men scare me. First dates terrify me. There are people who look at me and think I have some kind of secret poly knowledge, and the truth is, I know next to nothing. It’s a miracle I haven’t fucked this relationship up yet. Sometimes I wonder how much longer I can continue, regardless of the fact that I love this man, through and through. I can feel it in my bones, this connection to him. And still, polyamory is so fucking hard, I just want to run somewhere that I don’t have to SHARE! Some glorious island where I don’t have to communicate and self-reflect, or feel compersion. (Meh. Compersion.)

And you know what else? I love me a little kink, and I’m not getting it. What’s a girl to do?

The end.

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Dating makes me feel like the junior high wallflower, tongue-tied and awkward and sick to my stomach.  I’m a little bit of an extrovert-leaning introvert.  (If that makes any sense.)  I’d rather be home alone than have to sit on a first date and wonder what this stranger thinks of me…  And I’d really rather be with my beloved, sitting in comfortable silence, than making small talk with someone I don’t know.

And yet, I know I have to meet people and feel them out…before I get comfortable being with them, and feeling them up.  🙂

Then you add in the social oddity of being non-traditional in my relationship orientation, and I really get overwhelmed.  I want to date.  I want to find new friends, and make new connections.  I would love to fall in love again, and again.   But that means I have to date.  Ugh.