Poly Nirvana

Love, Life and Rational Polyamory

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I have a therapist, who I have seen on and off again since 2008.  He’s wonderful at reflecting back ME, to myself.  I use him when I need to focus.  Sometimes I use him just to verbalize what I already know, and need to hear out loud.  I saw him this morning.

“When are you happiest?” he asked me.

“Right after sex”, I said.  That was easy, I thought.

We talked about my tendency to overthink and worry.  We talked about how I hate it when Special Man tells me to be a duck, as he does, often.  (As in letting things roll off my back.)  We talked about how his nonchalance about certain (many) things is at odds with my natural stress patterns, and Therapist suggested that we may even be amplifying our differences in an effort to counteract the other.  We talked about how I’ve cried more in the last two years than I probably have in all my previous years, and Therapist thought that was a wonderful thing, because I’m not “closed up tight” any more.

“You can’t fuck all the time,” he said.  Damn, I thought.  “Your homework is to be aware of what you are feeling, and find some other things that make you happy. Try something new.”

Tonight I came across this, and I wanted to share it here, but I couldn’t embed it.  Take a few minutes to follow the link, especially if you are a broken girl, like me.  It’s sweet and sentimental, but even my cynical side was smiling.  


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I got a killer deal on a car.  Older, well-maintained Pontiac Grand Am that I really like.  Kind of cute.  I figured I’d drive it until next summer, and then it would make an ideal car for my teenagers to drive.

And now I know why it was such a good deal.  Apparently there’s a common issue with a few makes and models of cars and their security systems, and my cute little new red car is one of them.   Randomly, the car’s security system will be triggered and the car will not start.  Will.  Not.  Start.  The security light flashes for about fifteen minutes, and when it goes off, then the car starts.  Talk about annoying.  I can’t figure out what is triggering it, and from what I read on the internet, it’s some kind of common electronic thing that just happens with the ignition reading something wrong. Or something.

It’s almost funny. (Almost.)  The car troubles that have surrounded me lately just keep coming.  I had a choice between a new 2014 car, or this (very) old, 2000 Pontiac which would keep me out of debt.  It seemed like such a smart thing to do. It runs beautifully, when the damn security system lets me drive it!  Also the click-click of the turn signal just decides to go off occasionally…there must be a short somewhere.  I’m not sure what my next step is.  Maybe I can live with it.  Maybe I can find someone to fix it, there are YouTube videos and web pages devoted solely to this lame little problem.

Now I’m off to find my big flannel nightshirt, climb into bed, and think about other, more pleasant things before falling asleep.  (And that’s all I’m saying about that…)



Today SMF teased me a little about slacking on my writing.  It’s nice to know that he keeps an eye on my blog, and is interested in reading what I write.  It also blocks me sometimes, from writing things I might share if I was truly anonymous.  I almost always work through it though, generally by sitting on a draft for a few days, wondering if it’s too much to be posting, until I pretty much say Fuck It and post it anyway.

A few nights ago, I woke up in the middle of the night out of a really bad dream, which ended with a mob of people chasing me, as I screamed  Special Man’s name.  There was much more, but as I lay awake, my mind kept replaying that feeling of panic, as my brain tried to analyze it.  Eventually I went back to sleep, only to wake up from a second nightmare revolving around CC, my Metamour.

I don’t know what’s going on in this little head of mine, but obviously my subconscious is trying to work something out.  I have been aware of feeling especially alone this week, and as I lay in the dark, by myself in my big bed after the second nightmare, I had such a sense of singularity, and it felt thick, and it felt heavy.

We talk in PolyLand about no single person being able to fulfill every need and want for one other.  We speak of exploring different loves and of allowing relationships to be what they are going to be; of allowing ourselves to love and be loved with no expectation of What Is Supposed To Come Next.  I love Special Man dearly, and shockingly, I’m realizing how long it has taken for me to confess this, even to myself:  He can’t give me everything I need, everything I want.  He has nurtured me as I transitioned from a broken girl who didn’t believe in love, into this open, wholehearted woman who is still growing.  He loves me with everything he has, and I do not believe that he holds any of his love or emotion back from me.  I have been happy, loved, and satisfied.  But I need more.  And he cannot give it to me.  I get lonely and my bed is empty.  I thought for a long time that things could be different.  We talked of him spending two nights a week with me, on a scheduled, regular basis.  We talked of more domestic entanglement, of more down time together.  Somehow that read to me as security, stability.  Safety.

But after hearing another couple at a local non-monogamy discussion group talk about the way they split time between households, and feeling a stab (or ten) of envy,  I have decided that I have to make peace with the fact that this kind of arrangement may not be in the cards, ever.  Our relationship is wonderful, for what it is.  I am happy today.  I need to release those expectations of him; of us. If having someone to share my bed with is important to me, I need to find that, somewhere else.  Logistically, Special Man simply has a full plate.  I know I am a big part of that, and I have no intention of being without him,  I guess it’s back to OKCupid for this girl.  Sigh.  First dates, how I loathe thee…  

On another note, today I booked flights for the poly conference in Ohio in November.  I’m happy that I will have SMF with me the whole time, and we are both looking forward to meeting people and exploring the bigger poly community.  In addition, my darling friend, the Divine Miss M. thinks we should take a trip ourselves up to Calgary after Christmas.  (I really do hope she’s serious.)I h  ave things to look forward to.  I have people to look forward to.  Despite the car wreck and all the other chaos that has clustered around me of late, I have a good life.  I have good intentions, and I try to have a good heart.  All the rest of it is just details.



I went car shopping today, after I went to the dentist.  I’m not sure which was worse.

I miss my old car, the one I left in Oregon.  You know what else I miss?

Coloring books and Colorforms.  Holly Hobbie.  Watching Little House On The Prairie.  Riding my bike down a steep hill, as fast as I could with no helmet on.  Bottle Caps candy, and Zero bars.  Colored tights and tight braids.  Sticker books and paper dolls.

Now it’s car payments and electric bills. Parent-teacher conferences and grocery shopping.  Making sure there’s always toilet paper in the house.

Being a grown-up is hard.



A good portion of my interactions with Special Man Friend take place via technology like text, email, and Google Talk.  He lives twenty minutes away from me (twenty five on a heavy traffic day…) and I see him at least once a week, usually twice.  It’s important to me to have some daily contact, though I think his need for it is a little less than mine.  He knows me well, and if a day passes without hearing from me, he knows something is up and he hunts me down, which I enjoy.  (I’m such a girl.)

Because of this concentrated, pared down type of communication,  I have learned to ask for what I need.  Whatever is going on in my head, in my life, in my day, I know that Special Man will be there for me.  Don’t get me wrong, there have been those times he’s failed miserably at giving me what I ask for, and there have been other times when I have been so out of touch with myself that he was scrambling to connect with me and I was simply out of reach and oblivious.

Yesterday was not such a good day for me.  The details are inconsequential, it was just one of those days when life piles up, and all I really wanted was to turn out the lights and cuddle up with someone who loves me, and not talk.  But that’s not the structure of my relationship.  I have to find alternate ways to nurture myself and my partner.  Here is a part of the conversation that relaxed me into the rest of my night.  When it was finished, I put myself to bed early, knowing I was loved and wanted and that one bad day didn’t change any of that.

Me: could you please just tell me something you like about me
Him: of course. I like the way you laugh and blush with incredulity when I point out some little flaw or quirk you thought you were keeping hidden.
that was a weird-ish request. Was that intended for someone else?
(I LOVE those little flaws and quirks, btw)
Me: who else would I ask for something weird-ish like that??
that was rhetorical

Him: Also. I like the supremely girlish lilt of your voice. It is really awesome (it was the word ‘just’ that made it seem a little out of place, that’s all…)
Me: That was a good answer btw

Him: I like the way you smile big and arch your eyebrows sometimes when we talk.


Me: (okay I could see that. the just was a manifestation of my frustration as to what the hell is wrong with me.) :/

Yeah, I like my smile too.
I like the way you make me feel.
Him: I like the way you practically melt into me when we spoon
Me: I miss you.
***Posted without permission.  So there.  (I’m such a rebel.)