Poly Nirvana

Love, Life and Rational Polyamory


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~March~

So March is my anniversary month for the blog.

I love my blog.  I have gotten so much pleasure and satisfaction from it.  I love that I have readers in Germany, and Canada, and dozens of other places.  I love the comments and the commenters.  Sometimes the stories spill from me in an instant, and sometimes I don’t write for weeks, because there’s nothing there.  It’s not time yet.

Then, when the stories come back, I feel so good, so settled, so whole.  When the words elude me, I sit and stare at the screen of my laptop, and wait.  Sometimes I wait a long time, before closing my computer and promising to come back later.

I am able to see some of the search terms that people use to find Poly Nirvana.  They can be downright hilarious…

  • polyamory secondary gets scraps (ouch)
  • I am terrified of the game changer polyamory  (Right there with you, sometimes.)
  • compersion love hot poly  (Hey, as long as it’s HOT poly.)
  • polyamorous relationship bullshit  (haha)
  • strawberry pumpkin pet name (Aw.)
  • ginger girl finds succubus (Love it!)
  • professorpolyamory daughter (weird, right?)
  • he doesnt communicate oftenly. does my manfriend really love me? (Oftenly?? But YES to MANFRIEND!)
  • succubus wants my cock (awesome!)
  • emotion fucks thought  (Word.)
  • fuck you back  (How on earth did this search term get someone here??)
  • unicorn girl polyamorous  (Oh no you didn’t…)

I seriously love that this little space of mine is two years old.

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~Summary~

~Job interview was good, nerve-wracking.  Haven’t heard anything, and I have no gut feeling one way or the other as to whether or not a job offer is forthcoming.

~I am having some wanderlust.  I want new places,new things to look at, new people to watch.

~I paid off my car this month.  Friday it wouldn’t start.  It remains in the parking lot of Old Navy, until tomorrow when I can get it towed to the mechanic.

~I’m idly wondering why Reporter hasn’t asked me out again, though he has still been in contact.

~I am having some angst about our local poly community, which is completely tied up in the kink community, and, in addition, has a big rift down the middle, which in a large city wouldn’t be such a big deal, but in a tiny place like this, means everyone knows EVERYONE.

~Special Man has things going on, in his family, and in his other relationships that leave me at a loss. I don’t want to hover, or smother him, but I want him to feel supported. I want to be a good friend, and a good partner, but the golden rule doesn’t always apply to relationships when needs can vary so greatly from person to person.  If I’m struggling, I generally want to talk.  And talk.  Until I get it all out and can make a little peace.  Therefore, the first kind of support I think to give, is to listen, and to encourage conversation.  Except I don’t think that’s his coping mechanism.  I think he internalizes and works things out in his head.  Quietly.  So then I feel kind of helpless, like there’s nothing for me to DO.  I’m working on it. I think he knows I’m here.  I check in with him, but I don’t know what else to do.

~I feel good about most things. And if I don’t feel good about everything, that’s okay too.  I feel optimistic.  I feel good about myself, and there’s not much more that I can ask for.


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~Me~

I have a job interview in the morning.

Hospice.

It’s a completely new area for me.  I’ve been in labor and delivery for almost nine years, and the idea of doing something new is terrifying and exciting.  I don’t know if this is something that will work for me, but I am happy to have something new to consider.  I can’t wait for tomorrow. It feels like…something good.

Tonight I took the kids out to dinner, and we invited CC and Special Man to join us, and it was good and fun, and the word I keep coming back to: easy.  “Easy” seems to be my new gold standard.  Maybe it’s because so many things have been hard lately, I am acutely aware of how happy I feel when things are NOT hard.

DInner was easy.  We ate and laughed.  The kids were not perfect, the food was fun, (cotton candy at a Chinese buffet…why yes!)  Everyone was happy.

It wasn’t until we got home that Leo fell apart.  It’s been weeks of outbursts, and meltdowns, tears and arguments.  It’s so uncharacteristic, and such a drastic difference, that I’m at a loss as to how to handle it.  I’m frustrated, he’s frustrated.  He’s eleven, he’s missed a lot of school, had a major surgery, and his father died.  My heart hurts for him. It’s been a struggle for me, and I’m a grown-up, so how is a child supposed to figure it out?

I’m making an appointment for him to see my counselor, and he had some blood drawn today, to make sure his labs are good post surgery, just in case there’s something physical going on too.  I’m doing everything I can think of.

Being a parent is hard, ya’ll.


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~Late~

Ten minutes after yesterday’s early morning post, Special Man Friend sent me a text.

Come back to bed.

I was downstairs on the couch, he was upstairs in my room; he felt so far away.  I climbed back into bed, he curled around me, and I had to wonder if he had somehow read my words already.  We didn’t really talk for a few minutes, and even then, it was just him, whispering that no matter what else is going on, no matter the bad days that come and go, that he loves me and that hasn’t changed.

Our Valentine’s Day plan was to take a drive to some small outlying town, wander the second hand shops, have coffee.  What ended up happening was breakfast at a very busy little place in town, where our ticket got lost and the food took forever, and the Relationship Maintenance talk, that we planned on scheduling later in the week, happened spontaneously, though both of us tried to avoid it.

I love him, and he loves me.  I think the bottom line in this relationship, as well as in most relationships, is the Ideal vs. Reality. It’s about expectations and expectation management.

We didn’t end up making it out of town. We did end up feeling good about each other and where we are, right now, today.  And I think that’s a pretty good Valentine’s Day.


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~Another~

I’m going out on a First Date on Saturday.

Maybe.

I get the distinct impression that this guy expects (anticipates?) first date sex. He seems nice.  He’s smart (I think), sort of funny (hard to say), super enthusiastic (like a lab puppy that I’m not quite sure I have the energy for).

He’s older, educated, used to be a reporter.  The Reporter found me on OkCupid; there’s been chatting, not much else.  He doesn’t even have my number.

I was also propositioned by two men today, and called a sarcastic bitch by another.  All on the lovely internet.

I’m too shy for this. Wait. No, I’m an introvert. That sounds much cooler.

Last night I had a quick dinner with Special Man at Whole Foods.  He invited CC along, after her dinner date canceled on her.  It was good, comfortable, easy.  We’ve earned it.  I sat there, very grateful in that moment.  We made plans for two weeks out for games and tacos with kids and family.

Some days I wonder if I should just be happy with what I have. Just be fucking happy.


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~Flight~

Wendover, Nevada.

Oh my goodness: A thirty eight minute flight on a plane which was filled with excited and chatty senior citizens.  Special Man Friend found a dirt cheap weekend package, and apparently it’s very popular with the over 65 crowd.  It’s been a good giggle. (I know I’m no spring chicken.  But come on!  I’ve got fifteen years until I’m even sixty!)

We are here until tomorrow.  It’s been good for me I think.  Mostly the sleep.  SMF played poker last night, and I slept from 8:30 on.

Wait.  Maybe I am ready to be part of the Senior’s Fun Tour.  Darn.

SMF saw Mrs. A several times in the last week.  It was hard for me.  I hate that it’s hard for me.  I am trying to be gentle with myself. I have been able to relax more about his weekly date with her.  But midway through his third time seeing her in a week, I just had reached some kind of critical mass.  It doesn’t matter how secure I am in the fact that he loves me.  It doesn’t matter how reassuring he is.  It doesn’t matter how many self-love techniques I use, or poly books I read.

I am a poly girl, with a mono- minded heart. I work hard to be happy.  I am loved, and I know that SMF will be there for me, whatever I need.  But man, it’s hard sometimes. I  am not sure how to navigate this specific issue. In three and a half years with him, I haven’t ever had to deal with him having three dates with someone else in a single week.  It sounds silly when I type it out, but it is not silly. I am a good person with real feelings.  I have to forgive myself for struggling, because the last thing I need is to be mad at myself for having feelings.

So do I suck it up and deal?  Do I ask him to slow down a little for my sanity?  Do I just wait and see if it happens again?  I think this week may have been a fluke, but I was completely blindsided by the intensity of my discomfort.  CC is out of town, and there has been so much going on the last few weeks, that date nights have been moved around and his time with Mrs. A has been inconsistent.  I tell myself that he has consistently been there for me, and I am not losing time with him.

But there’s still part of me that is uncomfortable.  I think I’m afraid.  Afraid that he doesn’t have room for all three of us, and that I will get the proverbial boot. Afraid that she is cuter, funner (funner is totally a word), thinner, newer, smiley-er, easier, simpler, sexier… happier.     And who wouldn’t want to be around someone who was happy.

Things have been really heavy lately.  Special Man has not once, batted an eye about taking on what he can in an effort to support me, and to support my kids. He is my best friend, and my biggest supporter. The bulk of my life falls on me, and he knows that.  But when he steals me away for a cup of coffee, or lets me cry while he holds me, or takes the kids to the library he gives me the chance to breathe.  The chance to regroup.  The chance to find some peace again.  He honors his commitment to me.

That’s what my logic tells me.  I wish my little emotional heart would listen to my amazingly logical brain.  Damn heart.

I’m sitting on the fringes of a noisy, smokey casino, with a very bad cup of coffee, while he upstairs in our room, stealing a nap for an hour.  (The biggest shock to my system on this little trip has been the smoke filled casinos. In Idaho, you can’t smoke in public places unless you’re in a designated smoking area, so this level of second hand smoke is making me nuts!)

Tomorrow we head home.  I feel good.  I had a doctor’s appointment a few days ago (a follow up for my cancer history)  and she found a few things in my bloodwork that we are hopeful will be able to be corrected with changes in medication and , supplements and I’m making a six week recovery plan to deal with the physical and emotional aftermath of the last few months.

I feel positive.  I’m looking forward.


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~Love~

I told him once, that I loved him desperately.  He replied that he did not love me with a modifier like desperately.

I was crushed.

I get it now.  If desperately was truly how I felt then, it isn’t how I feel now.  The adjectives I feel on this day, in this minute, are infinitely more interesting and accurate.  I love him intensely, solidly, joyfully.  I love him effortlessly.  Easily.  I love him with my body, and I love him with my heart.  I love him for who he is, and I love him for who he isn’t.  I love him with a wholeness that I haven’t felt with anyone else.

Special Man Friend came to me last weekend, within a couple of hours of hearing of my ex-husband’s suicide.  He came and he didn’t leave.  He kept me together, so I could keep my children together.  Every minute, of that weekend, he loved me, exactly how I needed to be loved. He was present, available, and emotionally connected.  He fed me coffee, and held my hand, and talked me through the shock, which lasted nearly two days. He offered to drive us to the funeral.  He loved and listened to my kids. I saw his almost-tears, when Georgia said to me, “Mom, don’t get mental illness and kill yourself, ok?” and then turned to him and said, “You either.”

He loves me.  All of me.  In the aftermath of the first day, as I drifted to an exhausted and fuzzy half sleep, I said to him, “I love you, Dave.” 

Which, is not his name.  It is the name of the man I loved, in another life, so different and long ago from this life, that I barely think of it.  In the rare times that I do think of him, I count myself lucky to have had the strength to leave him and make a new, better, happier, safer life.  But then I said to SMF, “I love you, Dave.” 

I was mortified.  I tried to apologize.  I told myself, in my exhaustion, that this was unforgivable.

“No”, he said, with all the love for me in his voice that could ever possibly be there. “No. It’s okay. It’s time to sleep.”

And he curled around me, and loved me as I finally slept.