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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