Category Archives: Life, Living and Loving

Life, Living and Loving: Mrs. Feve’s Memoir Project: Ride

So many things to choose from for this prompt but there are actually two rides that I can kinda combine into one thing and beginning with my “historic” flight to California.

It wasn’t my first plane ride but after being used to traveling up and down the east coast, I was on my way to the west coast and my permanent party station at Castle AFB in Merced, CA. The flight itself was, I guess, pretty routine but as we flew across the country and at 34,000 feet, the limited view from my window seat had me introspective being among the clouds and looking down at the ground that appeared to be moving slowly even though we were zipping along at over five hundred miles per hour.

I was flying into the unknown and I laughed to myself – and causing the woman sitting in the aisle seat to give me a funny look – to think about the day I got my orders for my permanent party assignment. We’d been asked to pick three Air Force bases we’d like to be stationed and, of course, I had picked Dover AFB, about an hour away from home and I think I chose McGuire in New Jersey – but since I didn’t really know of any other bases close to home, I might have left my third choice blank or said I didn’t know.

It was a setup and a reminder that when you’re in the military, you go where they tell you to go. During this session, the last place anyone wanted to be stationed was Elmdendoft AFB in Alaska – and quite a few of my tech school classmates got laughed at when they got assigned there. Still, it wasn’t funny when I was told where I was going and when I was told that Castle AFB was in California, I was shocked and a little hurt to realized how far from home I’d be… and it didn’t make me feel better when my classmates were laughing their asses off at my shock and awe.

We flew over the Grand Canyon and the captain flew in such a way that everyone on both sides of the plane could get a good look – or as good of a look one can get out of those tiny windows – at the very big hole in the ground and, wow – seeing it from the air is pretty awesome. My mind was in awe and more so when I thought about all the people I knew back home who weren’t able to see what I was seeing… and probably never would.

Five hours after takeoff, I’m on the ground at San Francisco International and in a pickle because I missed my connecting flight to Merced. Shit. But that got taken care of and I began my tour of duty some 2,500 miles from home. Which leads me to the second part of this ride.

My first “road trip” to Los Angeles to visit relatives who lived there. It was exciting when I left the base Friday night after I got off from work, tossing my bags in the trunk of my car and my mind pouring over the details of the map I had and the more detailed directions to where my cousin lived in La Brea. Driving down the Pacific Coast Highway was… awe inspiring although when you’re driving at 70mph, there’s not a lot you can look at for a very long time.

It made me wish I hadn’t been driving so I could enjoy the sheer beauty of the Golden Bear state. The miles rolled beneath my wheels and I’d stopped a few times to refuel, bathroom breaks, etc.. I was pretty much on time and I knew I’d arrive at my destination at night. About the time I got in the neighborhood of Bakersfield, I was going through the mountains; the road was full of curves now and giving me some pretty cool views that I noticed but wasn’t paying that much attention to, opting to keep a closer eye on the little traffic around me. I was getting tired but I didn’t know if there was any place I could pull into to rest up a bit.

However, oh, maybe a mile or four later, I saw a sign that indicated there was a pull-over rest spot up ahead and I decided to pull over and stretch out the kinks. I pulled in, shut down the engine, got out of the car and stretched and looked out to see the city of Los Angeles off in the distance and thought, “Wow… you can see it from here!” Then I stretched again and looked up…

And my jaw dropped as I froze in mid-stretch because my eyes beheld a sight I’d never seen before. Stars. A night sky filled with stars. So many stars that you really couldn’t see the black that separated them – think about tossing a handful of white sand onto some black ink and you might get an idea of what my eyes were seeing… and my mind was trying to make sense of.

I felt… small. Humbled like I’d never been before in my life. I had no words for what I was seeing and all I could do was stand there looking up and I might have been drooling a little since I couldn’t seem to close my mouth. I couldn’t tell you how long I stood there looking up at the impossibly bright night sky and I didn’t snap out of it until I heard a voice close to me say, “Pretty awesome, isn’t it?”

“That’s not the word I’m thinking of,” I said, feeling as if I’d just awakened from a dream. I looked to see who had spoken to me and there was a woman standing next to me; I never heard her approach and, shit, I hadn’t even heard her car on the pull-over’s gravel. Even better, I hadn’t even noticed that she was holding my hand!

“I know the feeling,” she said, giving my hand a squeeze. “First time seeing this?”

“Yeah,” I said, my eyes unable to make up their mind whether to look at her or to return to looking at the indescribable awesomeness of the heavens. “You don’t get to see this where I’m from.”

We stood there hand in hand for only God knows how long; I was still trying to make sense of what I was seeing and feeling, both awed and disturbed at how… insignificant I felt and I felt so lost and was, apparently, because she kinda shook me to get my attention.

“I’m sorry – did you say something?” I asked, adding feeling stupid to the list of what I was feeling.

“Yes, I did,” she said. “Make love to me. Right here. Right now. Let’s not waste this moment…”

To be honest, I don’t remember us getting undressed under the star-filled night sky nor could I remember how we wound up on the warm grass; it was like I blinked and we were entwined with each other, kissing, fondling, tasting each other. I blinked again and now I’m inside her; we’re moving against each other and as we released with each other, I didn’t miss the significance of what we were doing under the star-studded sky, two human “stars” underneath an unlimited and uncountable ocean of stars and the vastness of the universe.

I blinked again, it seemed, and I was back in my car and entering the Los Angeles city limits. Where had I been? My memory started to return; who was she? Wow… did we really make love under the stars? My body said, “Oh, you most certainly did and it was beyond amazing!” I made my way to La Brea and my cousin’s home but I was unsettled, still dumbstruck over what my eyes beheld when I looked up and I couldn’t shake the sense of understanding my place in things. We ask ourselves, “Why am I here? What is my purpose?

What is the meaning of life? I knew the answer… but there were no words for it. Humbling. That feeling of being insignificant in the very grand scheme of things while being immersed fully in the primal need for contact and intimacy.

What a ride. Such a profound moment in my life. I wouldn’t see a star-filled sky again until decades later, standing on the deck of a cruise ship at night…

But that’s another ride.


Posted by on 30 May 2020 in Life, Living and Loving



The Post I Didn’t Want to Write… But I Have To

Two days ago, our beloved cat, Zane, suddenly and inexplicably died. No “warning” and to our knowledge, she wasn’t sick but at 14 years old, she was loving called “an old ho.” Our “carpet colored demon” because we had noticed she was the same color as the carpet in our apartment.

That furry pain in our asses, always into something, and all up in our business most of the time, almost always getting stepped on – cat stuff. What the fuck happened?

I’m still trying to figure it out. Saturday was a normal Zane day, sleeping and wanting to be played with and then camping out on my feet. It came time to feed her and as she always did, she got up and followed my lady into the kitchen and got all happy to hear the can opening – and she knew that sound from any other can opening sound. Followed my lady onto “her room” where we kept her food and water and got up on her platform to wait for,the bowl to be put down and, knowing her, purring all the way.

Maybe a minute or so later, she comes tearing out of the room and I happened to be looking in that direction when she ran right onto the reclining rocker and I had two immediate thoughtswith first being, “Oh, here she goes again…” because he running out like the devil was chasing her wasn’t unusual and it wasn’t that unusual for her to bump into the chair although not as a matter of course.

She laid down and I’m kinda waiting for her to come walking around the chair and with that “I meant to do that” look… except she was still lying there. I got up and asked her, “What are you doing, little girl?” because she just lying there on her belly and for a moment, I wondered if she’d knocked herself out hitting the chair.

Until I got a real good look at her and thought, “Something’s wrong..” and as I thought this, she gave a little hiss… and I looked at her eyes and said, “Oh, no…” I rubbed her head – no response. I put my hand on her body and couldn’t feel her breathing but I’d done that before and thought she was dead, only to have her look at me like, “Why are you touching me?”

I even tugged on her ear, something I know she didn’t like. No response. I looked at her eyes which were open and my heart was crushed. Our baby, who my lady rescued and restored to good health when she was a kitten…was dead. But what the fuck happened? I went and told my lady, “Honey… I think Zane is dead.”

“What?” she said and I nodded for her to come see… and now we’re both looking at her and I told her how Zane got to be lying where she was. Rubbed her head, lifted her paws and finally grabbed my phone, turned the flashlight on and shined it direction into her open eyes… and her pupils were fixed and dilated.

She’s dead. And I still don’t know how she could have gone from her usual self to being dead in a minutes or two. And now I have the even painful task of laying her to rest… and just write this still chokes me up and makes my eyes watery. Seriously, you expect a pet to die and we even said that maybe one day we’ll get up and she’ll be lounging somewhere and we’d notice that she didn’t get up and greet us because she died in her sleep.

We didn’t expect this to happen and the way it did. All kinds of reasons why a cat can die suddenly but at the end of the day, I guess it doesn’t matter because regardless of the reason, our little girl cat is still dead. Was it something about her food that killed her, maybe a strange allergic reaction? Heart attack? Stroke? No fucking idea.

God… this fucking hurts. We keep looking for her. I sit here and find myself looking down at my feet because she had the uncanny ability to camp out on my feet and I’d never know she was there until I started to get up or accidentally bump her with my foot. I’m sitting in the living room and looking at the three places she normally be – on her bed, the back of the loveseat, or perched right bending me on the back of the sofa… and purring in my ear.

And she’s not here any more. The night she died, I eventually went to bed and for the first time in a very long time, I didn’t close the bedroom door. We learned early on that leaving the door open would result with one of us waking up and looking Zane in the face or, since she seemed to be attached to me, lying on top of me and I’m waking up wondering why I feel heavier than I should or my lady wondering why she was a lot warmer than she should have been,

Yep. Cat. That nosy heifer who once jumped in bed with us and was messing with my feet as we were making love. Yep, the cat who, whenever the two of us were talking about anything would sit or stand right with us and like she didn’t want to be left out and might have something to add, like a meow or two.

It is so strange not seeing her. I’m still coming out of the bedroom and looking for her perched either on the loveseat or waiting by the door. We go in “her room” but really it’s where our computers live and she doesn’t follow us in to nibble on her food or drink water or just sit between us as we talked about whatever… or she’s sitting under me and so close that I have to look down to make sure I don’t run her over with my chair.

And I caught myself looking today. I got up from my usual spot on the sofa before I started this and looked down at my feet before actually standing up. She wasn’t there… because she’s gone. I thought about that last hiss she made; was she in pain? Scared? When she started running and hit the chair, did she know something was wrong and that she was dying? And the thing that really fucks with me is something I remembered when she hissed:

Her pupils were already fixed and dilated and the hiss… well, fuck. Last gasp? The only thing she could do before her brain fully and finally shut down? I don’t know. What I do know is how much it hurts knowing that’s she’s gone and the way she left us. Suddenly. Inexplicably. No warning or indication that anything was wrong with her other than being a 14 year old cat.

Yeah, she wasn’t as feisty as she was when younger but she’d want to play, would stalk and pounce on us as we walked around and sometimes her idea of fun was me chasing her and her plopping down as if to say, “Okay, you got me!” then go on the attack when my back was turned. And the day she died was no different, well, except she died. It even a hour before, she way lying on my feet and purring; I reached down and rubbed her head and she purred even louder,

And an hour later, she died. And we can’t make any sense of how she died. We’ve talked about getting another cat but at the moment, our hearts ain’t really in it. There’s the matter of us have a lot of cat stuff – food, litter, etc., and we don’t have a cat anymore. Even my lady said that we can get another cat… but it won’t even be Zane. As a cat, Zane wasn’t a dumb animal by any stretch of the imagination and even my mom, who doesn’t like cats, always asked us how “her” cat was doing and she cried when we told her that “her cat” died.

Knock on our door and Zane would haul ass to the door and I’d tell her, “You wanna impress me? Open the door!” I’d open the door and she’d be right there to see who it was and if they came inside, she’d either hiss at them – which was most of the time – or she stroll up to the person and look at the like, “Why aren’t you petting me?” Sometimes someone would knock on the door and she’d just vanish into thin air, making us say that if you didn’t know we had a cat, you’d swear we didn’t have one.

She went after the cable guy in full attack mode and so much that we had to put her in a room and close the door. When she did that same thing to a guy who was delivering something to us, wow, that was weird as fuck but, okay, maybe there was something about both guys she just didn’t like. Company comes to stay a few and she’d vanish like smoke… then reappear and mingle like she had never left the room.

Like my lady said, “It feels like our child has left home or something…” and I know what she means and now it’s us having to get used to Zane not being the part of our lives she came to be, furry pain in our ass and all that she was to us. We’d tell people that dealing with Zane was very much like having a small child who’d get into everything and so,times in baffling ways, like the day we got a package that came in a long, narrow box… and it wasn’t a matter of if she was gonna try to get inside the box but when she’d try. And she did. And got stuck. I hadn’t laughed so much in a while watching her trying to get out by herself.

Or the time we had a big box and she snuck into it… and almost got taken out with the trash. Or her ability to walk across the top of a flat screen TV… to me watching her actually watching TV. All we had to do was to move something, even for a moment, and she’d be checking it out and we’d put it back where it belonged… and it had to be check out again.

Whenever we’d go into the kitchen, she’d haul ass after us and thinking it was feeding time… then she got smart. One of would go in the kitchen for something and she’d sit there and watch what we were doing and if we weren’t opening a can of cat food, she’d just go on about her business and, as I said, she knew the difference between her food being opened and, say, me opening a can of Coke.

I miss her. Zane was a lovable pain in our asses… but she was our lovable pain in the ass.


Posted by on 25 May 2020 in Life, Living and Loving



Life, Living and Loving: Mrs. Feve’s Memoir Project: Green

So, green. When I saw the email alerting me that Mrs. Feve had posted the second prompt, my mind starting thinking about green and the first thing I thought about was rebirth, that moment when winter is done and over with and things that were dormant during the cold months were now awaking up – grass, flowers, and trees. My next thought was about summer and my brain immediately connected to the most greenest thing it could remember.

Our youngest son had decided to drop out of college to join the US Navy after figuring out that he could continue his college education and the government would pay for it so off he went to the Great Lakes Training Center just north of Chicago but before he left, we sat down and had a conversation about basic training in general and what he could expect, what the purpose of basic training was and, for him, um, when they tell you to do something – and no matter how dumb it sounds – just do it… and don’t question it unless you like doing pushups.

Yeah… it was a lesson I learned during my time in USAF basic training and I probably still hold the squadron record for pushups. Live and learn.

He made it through (learned the same thing I did, by the way) and we wanted to be there for his graduation ceremony. I’d been to Chicago and its environs quite a few times and my first thought was for the three of us to hop on a plane to O’Hare, rent a car, get a hotel, and watch our son move on to the next phase of his training…

Except his mom didn’t want to fly. I spent a lot of time looking at train and bus schedules but they weren’t going to get us there when we needed to be there so the only thing to do was to drive. I hit MapQuest to find the best route and, holy shit – we’re looking at a 13 hour drive! We left home around 10pm – a couple of hours before I had planned to because I wanted to literally get the show on the road and off we went.

By the time we hit Gary, Indiana, I was feeling some kind of way because I’d been driving the whole time. The sun was up and there was, oh, hmm, maybe a two-hour portion of the drive beginning with leaving Ohio where the only thing to look at was corn.

Lots of corn. So much green as far as the eye could see. It wasn’t as if none of us had ever seen a cornfield… but nothing like this. Mile after mile, on both sides of the road, nothing but the vibrant green of healthy, growing corn… and it was strangely mesmerizing and somewhat hypnotizing as I sped along and even that had me thinking that I’d been traveling all over the country as part of my job and I couldn’t remember seeing green like this before – and looking down from 30,000 feet didn’t seem to count nor, I realized, did what I was seeing any real justice.

Life. Green meant life. Life is full of experiences and wonders just as much as it is full of potholes – and that thought came to me because I narrowly missed running through a pretty good-sized pothole. I barely caught the edge of it, bounced us around (woke up my road partners) and despite a slightly hairy moment, the green was still there, signifying life and growth.

While the 13-hour trip was full of conversation and other things to keep us occupied (and to keep me awake), nothing dominated our talk more than all that green of the cornfields that seemed to go on forever. Hell, when we got to the hotel – 12 hours and 40 minutes after we hit the road – we were still talking about it.

And were still talking about it once we got back on the road after attending the graduation ceremony and having dinner with the newest member of the family to serve our country. I didn’t do much driving on the way home; the drive to Chicago, it turned out, seriously kicked my ass and I’m sure I slept through that two hour stretch of road that was home to green and the likes none of us had ever seen before.

Years after that trip, all that green was the one thing that really stuck in our minds about our journey. Green is life. Vibrant. Full of wonder and hopeful expectations for good times to be had and experienced. Green is everywhere. Life is everywhere. It reminds you of the inherent beauty of the world around us, takes your mind away from the chaos of every day life to refresh and renew your perspective on things, can refresh your spirit. We say that we should take time to stop and smell the flowers and it’s good advice so the next time you’re out and about in your travels, look for green… and remember how good it is to be alive.


Posted by on 20 May 2020 in Life, Living and Loving



Life, Living and Loving: Another Mrs. Feve Thang

  1. What book{s} are you reading these days?
  2. What is your favorite flower?
  3. If your recreation or other forms of enjoyment have been interrupted by the current stay-home orders affecting many people/places: What do you miss most about ‘before’?
  4. What blog/ger do you recommend reading and why?
  5. Tell me one thing about yourself that you are proud of.

Mrs. Fever, in her recent post entitled, “Let’s Chat :)” was talking about questions someone had asked her as part of getting a blogging award, something there used to be a lot of but ya don’t see awards being handed out so much these days. In turn, she asked the above questions and I thought, why not – let’s answer them! So here we go!

I am a voracious reader. According to my Kindle app’s Reading Insights, I’ve read for 94 weeks in a row, 62 days in a row… this year to date. I read a lot of science fiction, sometimes a thriller or two (or more) and, really, pretty much anything that strikes my fancy. I had decided to hook up with Kindle Unlimited; paying that $9.99 every month was (and is) a lot less expense than buying books although there are books I will buy – and sometimes at a nice discount – and it allows me to get some Audible audiobooks at really low prices.

Given that I’ve been both retired and disabled for a while now, I have nothing but time on my hands to read.

My favorite flower is an orchid. They’re spooky looking and beautiful at the same time; I’ve seen some that’ll make you think that if you get too close, it’ll wake up and take a bite out of you.

Hmm, what do I miss now that the pandemic has pretty much taken away? Actually, not a whole lot but I miss doing the simple stuff and not having to remember to gear up with mask and gloves just to go get the mail or to take the trash out or, as the weather here is trying to get warmer, to open the back door and get some fresh air in here after being closed up during the winter months.

What blogger do I recommend reading and why? That would be DDJennifer and her blog about domestic discipline (sorry Mrs. Feve but your blog is cool, too). For one, reading her blog teaches me some stuff about domestic discipline that I’m not into but it’s utterly fascinating and, for the other, Jennifer and her clan are a well put together poly family and, at least to me, represents how to do this and do it well, something I do have experience in. Her kinkiness aside for a moment, a lot of couples – in particular – are moving more toward polyamory (in some way) to enhance their relationship and allowing behaviors that monogamy does not and cannot allow for while still being a happy couple.

I know that it doesn’t get any better than this and Jennifer isn’t bashful about discussing, in detail, both her thoughts about all of this and, yeah, the incredible sex she and her clan has while taking care of the normal family business.

What’s the one thing I’m proud of about myself? That I survived both having a stroke and didn’t get taken out by the abdominal aortic aneurysm that was discovered and repaired… twice. When I say that having a stroke is some really scary shit, I’m not understating it or overly exaggerating things and I know I got damned lucky to “get away” with the deficits and stuff I do have… because I’ve seen what it’s like to have a stroke and not be killed by it… and to say it’s not pretty again doesn’t begin to cover it.

Finding out that you have a ticking time bomb in your belly is even scarier since, um, should you have one and it pops – and you rarely get a warning that’s it’s gonna pop – you’re dead in seconds; you could be on the operating table with a team of vascular surgeons working on fixing this and if it pops, you might not survive it.

So mine got repaired “in time” and my vascular surgeon is one of my heroes and is even more so when my endograft was found to be leaking and required another repair that, for me, seemed to be a magic trick since, instead of removing the implant I already had, he added a second one. I know how he did it – I had read up on how leaks are repaired when you have an endograft – but, wow; it’s one thing to know how it’s done and something else to know that he actually did it. I mentioned that to him and he just laughed and winked at me.

So, yeah, I’m both proud, fortunate, and very thankful to have survived two things that some people don’t survive or, if they do, the effects can be debilitating beyond belief. For my stroke, I’ll never be 100% again and it bugs me to be limping around, getting tripped up by a foot that ain’t on the same page with the other one and, yeah, there’s living with the constant neuropathic pain that just does not ever stop.

Very proud to still be here to bitch about it.

Mrs. Feve – how did I do?

PS: Mrs. Feve reminded me that I forgot to provide Jennifer’s blog URL so here it is:


Posted by on 12 May 2020 in Life, Living and Loving



Life, Living and Loving: Mrs. Feve’s Memoir Project – Wind

Plans had been made to travel to Japan for my birthday and to be there when a new grandchild would be born and welcomed into the family and I was so very much looking forward to returning to a country I’ve always had a fascination for and having visited there while in the service.

Then the storm came. I don’t even remember the name of the hurricane that swept through but I had been paying attention to the weather, saw that – crap – it’s probably going to put a crimp in our plans, maybe might make us cancel the trip but let’s see how things go.

The storm hit us and the thing I remember was the wind and more so when I had reason to go outside after hearing what I thought was debris hitting the house. It’s one thing to be inside during such intense weather… and something else to be outside in it, virtually unprotected and, in this case, kind of dangerous.

Trees bending, threatening to break; power lines flapping in the wind – maybe they’ll hold, pretty sure they won’t. The rain was… impressive, filling the swimming pool to overflowing in just a few minutes but the wind was powerful, forceful, unrelenting.

I thought, as I fought the wind to survey things, “What am I doing out here?” The primal urge to run and hide from the wind was strong and more so when, looking to my left, I saw a neighbor’s roof starting to come apart and thinking, “This shit is getting dangerous… get your ass back inside and hunker down!”

Yet, I stood there – tried to stand there – soaked to the bone in the surprisingly warm rain but chilled by the powerful winds that threatened to literally blow me away… and it was awesome to face the wind, to feel its power and to be made to realize that there really are other things that are bigger than you are. Stronger. Relentless. Unstoppable.

I looked up at the sky; dark, brooding, threatening and laced with even darker cloud that couldn’t withstand the fury of the wind anymore than I was I could. I turned and looked back at the window that faced the backyard and my family is standing at the big picture window and gesturing to me to get my ass back inside before something blown by the wind comes along and makes an unwanted connection with me.

I remember nodding to them and thinking, “Shit, this is bad and getting worse…” and took another look around the property and with a sobering understanding that the wind is going to do what it’s gonna do and regardless to what I’d rather it didn’t do. Time to use some common sense and go inside and hope that the house continues to be proof against the raging wind.

The storm intensified. We’d lost power and I spent frantic minutes on my cell with the power company to report the outage and find out if they had crews in the area. They hadn’t known we were in the dark but had crews in the area and would be working on things… but the wind. Always the wind. I remember feeling like our ancient ancestors, hiding from the storm inside our caves, huddling for warmth and safety and I thought, as the wind rattled the big picture window and making me think that the wind would destroy it, that modern man has no real answer for the wind and our attempts to escape and shelter from its terrible power were pitiful, at best.

You can’t stop it. You can only hope to survive its fury.

“Are we gonna make it?” I was asked.

“I hope so,” I said.

The winds died down eventually and we had spent a night trying to keep ourselves both calm and occupied in the darkness as the wind howled in all of its fury… and the three of us, inexplicitly, made love several times during the storm, our lust proving to be just as powerful as the winds trying to reshape everything around us. It wasn’t just lust… it felt like we needed to do this to survive and I even managed to joke at times when the wind would shake the whole house, making it groan in response and I’d say, “Yeah, I’m really bringing the noise and shaking up the whole world – I am man, feel my awesomeness!”

Yeah, right. The women laughed their asses off and that’s what I had hoped for, that between the sex and my humor, their minds would be taken off of the storm-driven winds and the winds that I had experienced first-hand. They could hear and fear the power of the wind…

But I had felt it and had been humbled by it.

We were able to go to Japan but looking around after the hurricane had finally moved on, I was in awe by the damage left behind by the wind. Our home was intact but as far as I could see, there were many reminders of the power of wind. I understand the science of wind well enough but that understanding, I learned that day, pales when you’re literally in the wind and feeling its might and effect.


Posted by on 10 May 2020 in Life, Living and Loving



Life, Living and Loving: A Royal Pain in the Ass

One of the things that drove me batshit crazy was having to explain why I had “two wives,” one I was legally married to and the other in spirit. If I hadn’t already known how most people look at marriage and relationships, I would have been bitch-slapped and with great, devastating effect over what I’ve heard people say about the way we were handling our relationship.

Most – and not surprisingly – didn’t give a fuck about why things were the way they were; they didn’t care to be bothered with the details, thinking that what we were doing was something that “just happened” instead of accepting that the situation we were in had actually begun many years before and at one specific moment in time.

I got so very sick and tired of the blame for this… ungodliness dropped on my head and being cast in the role of some kind of megalomaniac and one that was really full of himself, you know, like I was God’s gift to women or being such an asshole to have conned two women into being my harem and other such bullshit that would, in the early going, would make me want to bury my foot in their asses up to my knee.

If I hadn’t already known that you can explain something to someone in very great detail and the end result would be that you just spent a whole lot of time pretty much talking to yourself, I would have been beyond exasperated at how dense some people can be, that and how slavishly they hold onto to a relationship concept that, we found, looks good on paper but doesn’t always work the way they say it’s supposed to be.

I got so tired of people telling me what we should have done and I really got tired of the many unmarried people who had a lot to say about it. For the married folks giving me a raft of shit about it, good lord… I got so sick and tired listening to them telling me what they wouldn’t have done – but I’d often get a measure of satisfaction when I throw them a fastball and ask, “Did I ask you what you would do?”

It’s really a royal pain in the ass when you tell the truth about something… and no one believes you. Why in the name of all that’s holy did I decide to do this? Well, I didn’t – I just agreed to it because it made sense. Why isn’t one woman enough for you? Well, who said this was the case? Did you hear the part when I said that doing this wasn’t my idea? Did you not hear me when I said that before I agreed with this, I was throwing out everything I could think of that could go wrong like it was confetti? Did you miss the part where I had said, once the conversation started, “I have a bad feeling about this…?”

Oh, dear lord… the looks we’d get whenever we were out and about. People aren’t stupid in that some can really take a look at something and they just know that they’re looking at something that’s more than three people out shopping or whatever; they can sense that we were more than friends and more than good friends. I can’t begin to tell you how many times I “died” with the looks I’d get from both men and women, married or not. I’d see them looking at me and I could tell what they were thinking.

And while there were times I’d get that “you lucky bastard!” look, yeah, more often than not, I’d suffer death by eyeballs. One day, some strange lady actually stopped me and asked, “Why are you doing this to those poor women?”

Wait, what? I started to tell her to mind her own fucking business but that would be rude even for me so I said, “I’m not doing anything they didn’t want me to do and if you don’t believe me, go ask them; trust me, they will tell you.”

The look on her face was priceless; I could see her mind trying to parse this and I could tell she was having a really hard time trying to take what she believed in and equate it to what she had obviously sensed just by looking at us. She started to give me some shit but I cut her off by saying, “Look, just leave it alone; you can say whatever you want to but I can and will tell you that whatever you say, it’s not going to change anything and if you wanna push it, you’re not going to like how I respond to it. Just leave it alone. We’re doing it and we’re happy. Mind your business.”

Explaining it to our families. Believe it or not, that was actually easier than I thought it would be and, of course, I was the one tasked with explaining it. Lucky me, huh? They all said two things: One was, “I hope you know what you’re doing” and the other was, “As long as y’all are happy.” To the first, fuck no – I had no idea what the fuck we were doing but I was working hard to figure it out and, for the other, yeah – we were happy.

Whatever “bad” thoughts our families may have had were left unsaid, not that it would have changed anything for us; we were committed to doing this crazy-assed thing and to the best of our abilities.

Now, some of the people we knew that either figured it out on their own or we told them, they were cool about it and some of them were… “envious” and said that, wow, they wished they could do something like that. Once it was explained to them, they agreed that it made sense for us to pool our resources in this way… and, at least with the guys who knew, yeah – I was the luckiest motherfucker ever born to be able to sleep with – literally and sexually – two women every night.

I’d be “off on the side” and the women would be talking to other women… and you know what they say about your ears burning? My whole body would be engulfed in flames and sometimes I’d look in their direction and all of them would be looking at me in a way that, well, to say it made me feel uncomfortable didn’t begin to cover it. Let me see if I can explain it: When a bunch of women – including the ones you’re involved with – are looking at you with a predatory kind of look and one that says if they could, you’d get shredded by all of them, yeah – it makes you feel some kind of way and not a good one.

One of the girls’ friends said to my face, “I’d trade places with one of them in a heartbeat.” They smiled… and I had a great urge to be somewhere else. Can you imagine what it feels like to hear the ladies laughing and giggling – while looking at you – and you know what they’re talking about?

I got to a point where I’d be aware of the negativity and I’d just ignore it. Someone would ask, “What the fuck is going on with y’all?” and I’d say, “You really don’t want to know…” because I really did get very tired of explaining it. One person we all knew walked up to me and started to ask, “Are the three of you…?” and I cut them off by saying, “Yes, we are, okay? Just leave it alone or, if you really wanna know, go ask one of them.”

As I said earlier, my biggest issue with this was dealing with the perception that I was the reason why this was happening. One woman gave me the impression that she wanted to kick my ass for having the nerve to put together a harem – who the fuck did I think I was?

And very much unlike me, I laid into her; to say I read her the riot act doesn’t even come close to the scathing response I let loose on her. I didn’t cuss… a whole lot but I did climb in her ass about how fucking stupid and ignorant she was for, one, sticking her nose in our business and, for the other, being so obtuse and close-minded to not accept the truth when I said this wasn’t my idea to begin with – I just agreed that it was the best way to proceed and despite any misgivings I had.

Yeah, I hurt her feelings and badly. Yeah, I felt pretty shitty after the fact but she had it coming because one thing I learned is that friendly persuasion is nice… but nastiness gets better results. She said to me, “I hope you burn in hell!”

And I said, “That’s probably a given so I’m not worried about it…” then walked away and feeling all kinds of very sharp implements stabbing me in the back. And I didn’t give a fuck one way or the other. I’d had enough of this crap and no more Mr. Nice Guy. If you didn’t like what we were doing, fuck you – all you can do is not like it. Don’t believe that things went down the way I said they did? Not my problem and you’d be wise not to try to make it my problem or, as I said to one couple, “Do you really want to go there with me about this? Do you?”

The three of us would often sit down and talk about what others were saying about us; sometimes we’d laugh our asses off and sometimes we’d wonder what part of “We’re doing this because we want to” didn’t they understand? I’d sometimes feel some kind of way because the two of them, more often than not, got more positive feedback than I was getting but, okay, yeah – I’m the bad guy here.

One of my friends asked me, “Do you regret it?” And, honestly, I did… but not really. Was this one of the hardest things I’d ever done and the most insane thing I’ve ever been involved in? You bet your ass it was. How was I managing things? Finely so… and not so much. Guys would say how lucky I was and I’d respond by saying, “Is that what you think?” On the one hand, yes – lucky beyond belief… but if you thought it was a picnic dealing with two women with similar, yet very different personalities and all that, you need a wakeup call.

Okay… the sex. Incredible and complicated as fuck – and that’s being nice about it. No less than twice a day, damned near every day. One guy said, “Dude, they gotta be wearing your ass out!” and I said, “You have no idea – you really don’t.” I knew a lot of guys – in particular – were of a mind that having threesome sex with two women is the holy grail of having sex… but without understanding how incredibly difficult it really is. I got humbled, embarrassed; I’d feel inadequate, ineffective and a few other things I have no words for but I didn’t give up trying to do my best with, to, and for two women who had very different thoughts and feelings about sex as well as differing needs. Sounds like fun? Well, honestly, it really was… and not so much when I’d find myself dealing with the expected complaint that one was getting more than the other.

Having sex with them pushed me to my limits and beyond. I recall getting up for work one morning and looking at myself in the mirror… and to say that I look haggard and rough was being nice. In one week alone, I got pushed to the brink of total exhaustion between having sex with one or both of them every day and night to dealing with their ideas of what having sex with each other had to be and look like. As a part of a song goes, “I had complaints but too few to mention…” and I did get complaints and it was always about doing it more… and more. I’m one guy and, by the way, asking for another guy to join us so I could get some help with them was out of the question.

One guy said to me, “You’re living every man’s dream, you know that, don’t you? A lot of guys would kill to have what you have!”

I said, “If they knew what I know, they’d kill themselves trying to avoid it; this ain’t as easy as it sounds.”

I learned so much and a lot of it wasn’t easy to swallow. Mistakes were made and I made more than my fair share of them, too. But even I had to stop kicking my own ass over the mistakes I made when I had to admit and realize that we were doing something that none of us knew how to do; we were just going with the flow of things and while, in my mind, it was implied that there were going to be potholes along the road, they were such that I don’t think any of us could really imagine.

And while we were working on the internal stuff, there was still the external stuff that was still a royal pain in my ass, like people telling me what marriage is supposed to be and refusing to give any thought to the realization that a marriage – any marriage – is only going to be as good as both people are willing to make it and, as such, the way it’s supposed to be just does not come close to covering the ability and need – when it arises – to do whatever you gotta do to make it the best it can possibly be… and even if it looks the like biggest mistake ever.

The thing is… we did it. For a whole lot of years. For better or worse. Maybe even against all odds. Then three became four and while some things got better, some things were just even more complicated and complex. Things went well… and they didn’t. I’d be asked, “Why would you even try this?” and the only answer I could – and would – give was, “Because it had to be tried and done.”

I remember the night it all went down and I was asked, “What… you saying you’re not up to the challenge? That you can’t handle it?” Oh, it’s game on! Was I up to the challenge? Yes… and not so much which is why, today, I say with great conviction that if I knew then what I know now, yeah – I still would have said, “Okay… let’s see what happens!”

Insanely and given all that I experienced in this, I would do it again because there’s something about being a part of something that is much bigger than yourself and your partner. It’s… belonging. It’s being so far out of the box that you can’t see what the box looks like. It’s about an intimacy that goes beyond sex, to love and be loved in ways that few people can imagine and more so when people still tend to believe that being married can only go one way and monogamously so. I learned that monogamy doesn’t work they way they say it should; I learned that it’s very inhibitive and prohibitive and makes you ask questions like, “How are we supposed to (add something here) when they say you’re not supposed to do it, let alone think it?” What happens when two people look at each other and ask about how and what can they do to make their lives better, richer, fuller, exciting, etc., well, that gets to be a problem because what you might be able to do, the rules prohibit it.

Sigh. The internal issues are what they are and inherent in any relationship; you’re gonna get along fabulously and be at each other’s throats over this, that or the other. You learn to deal with them as best you can but, again and still, the royal pain in my ass was other people and being told that we couldn’t do what we were doing and all that other shit. I’d be asked, “Don’t your vows mean anything to you?”

Of course they did and especially the for better or worse part. When I was sitting down and thinking about, one, what the hell did I just get myself into and, two, how was I gonna make this work, I thought about that part and, not for the first time, asked myself why “worse” has to be worse when it’s implied that you’re supposed to do all you can do for your partner? If ya had more better than worse, well, what difference does it make when it comes to the form that “better” winds up taking?

And this kind of stuff is what really had me sitting up at night and wondering what was wrong with everyone else that they couldn’t see that being married, despite what the vows say or not, means doing everything humanly possible to stay together and, yeah, even unto death does us part if that’s the way it goes down. Why was it automatically assumed that I was the bad guy in this since, “duh,” this just had to be my idea and I coerced everyone else into doing it?

And I’d sigh and try to put it in the back of my mind, knowing full well that when the sun rose in the morning – and if it hadn’t already – there would be more of the same shit being tossed our way about doing that which should never be done. Another day of me rolling my eyes to hear someone telling me that they’d rather get divorced than to do some shit like that and even if it meant throwing away a good relationship. Another day of my patience and tolerance being tested by people insisting that I didn’t know what I was doing, how selfish I was, conceited, arrogant and other shit – and shit coming from people who may have known of me… but didn’t know shit about me… or the women who were a part of my life.

Best thing I’ve ever done… and the most insane thing. I loved it. Hated it. It was as much uplifting as it could be depressing at times and, yeah, there were many a day where I wanted to say, “Fuck it – we’re not doing this anymore!” But it was personal and, yeah, a bit of ego because for me to say that meant that I couldn’t handle it, that I wasn’t equal to the challenge presented. I can admit when I can’t do something… but this? This I could do… if I could figure out the optimal way to do it. The good part? I did figure it out. We did make it work for well over twenty years, for better or worse, in sickness and in health until we couldn’t make it work.

Such is life and this experience taught me some shit about life that, perhaps, I wouldn’t have been aware of had I not experienced it. Life really is way too short and short enough that saying, “Fuck the rules!” is better than being at the end of your life and thinking about what might have been or regretting not doing something when you had the chance to do it. It taught me that if/when you love someone, nothing is impossible and everything is negotiable and, really, if you’re not gonna do everything that’s humanly possible to make your relationship the best it can possibly be, what the hell are you doing? Why are you not thinking like this and more so when, at some point, you realize the relationship needs help and more help than the two of you can bring to bear?

Because you’re not supposed to. Ever. For no reason and even if your very survival depends on doing something so out of the box it’s said to be impossible. It reinforced what “being in love” really meant and what it means to be committed – not to the institution but to the person you married and the one you promised to do everything in your power for up to and including trading your life for theirs.

Makes what we did look easy… and it wasn’t. You think just being married is hard? It isn’t… being more than married is. It’s the ultimate relationship, hands down which, oddly enough, a lot of people are “just now” beginning to realize and try their hand at. Works for some and, sadly, is a disaster for others and I think the biggest thing I learned from this is not what you do: It’s how you go about doing it. It’s the thing that I will forever say that you have to be grown up enough and be able to unlearn every damned thing you thought you knew about love, sex, and relationships so you can learn a whole new way of doing it.

And even if you can, one thing remains true: Your relationship is only going to be as good as you, collectively, can make it. Others are going to talk shit to you about it, either behind your back to your face; they’re gonna tell you how wrong you are, how fucked up you are and, yeah, y’all must be out of your ever-loving minds. And you keep your own counsel every step of the way and learn not to let the negative shit you will surely encounter bother you and yours.

Stay the course. Live and love together for as long as you can and the best way you can. Why? Life’s too short and tomorrow isn’t promised to anyone.

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Posted by on 22 April 2020 in Life, Living and Loving


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Life, Living and Loving: Opening the Box (and some TBT Stuff)

That some bisexuals in a relationship become interested in open relationships isn’t surprising. It sounds insane but in a lot of way, it makes sense to ask for permission rather than to beg for forgiveness. Now, sexuality isn’t the only reason for opening the box – and if you wanna think of it as opening Pandora’s Box, you’d not be wrong about that.

People have reason to open things up but at a very high level of thought – and I mean high as in at the edge of space high – it comes down to taking care of needs, both your own and those of your partner. At some point, everyone in a relationship gets to the place where they realize that there’s only so much the two of them can do together and putting their noses to the grindstone and taking care of business puts them into a rut, a repetitive loop where they find themselves pretty much doing the same thing each and every day and without any real sense of variety other than what one’s “normal” day can bring to things.

Most notable is the fact that somewhere along the line, sex and other intimacies start to drop off both in quantity and quality – loads of reasons for this that I’m not really going to get into in any real detail at this time. Conversations become more… generalized, tend to be business-like – when are we gonna get the car fixed, what’s for dinner – you know the kind of conversations I’m talking about, right?

And where having sex, in the beginning, was quite “automatic,” now someone finds themselves having to ask the other person if they feel like having sex and can find themselves getting turned down more than they did before they got hooked up and was out there dating.

How many of you have had the, “What can we do to spice things up again?” conversation? How many of you know that this question needs to be asked but are afraid to ask it? Usually – and I mean “usually” in a general sort of way – the plan is to return to being more involved with each other – more sex, more talking to each other that’s not daily routine kind of stuff; getting out for date nights (and especially if you have children) and, together, trying to rekindle the hotter-than-the-sun fires that torched the two of you when you first met.

Some people manage to do it and some even manage to do it for an extended period of time before and eventually, they fall back into the rut again and the rekindled spark fades away once more. Some folks are actually bold enough – or a great glutton for punishment – to propose that what might be a good way to fire things up again is to open the relationship so that, at the very least, the things they can’t “take care of” for each other – or aren’t doing a good job with – well, they can get some outside help…

Which is pretty much forbidden, right? The odd thing about this is that when things have gotten to the point where this is thought about and/or presented, it’s not as if both people don’t know that doing something like this just might be what the doctor ordered; it’s just one of those things that should never be done even if, by doing so, the relationship can be preserved, renewed, and refreshed.

And the first problem to crop up – if you’re “crazy” enough to mention it – is bringing it up in the first place… and then trying to explain why it’s being mentioned. I mean, before you even decided to be very brave and bring it up, you’ve had some time to practice your speech inside your head and covering all of the pros and cons that you think will benefit the both of you… but pros and cons that, in some cases, you really don’t have any hard facts to support things because when you get stuck in the rut, that level of communication is usually the first thing that falls into a crack and never sees the light of day again.

So you’re basing your “presentation” on what you think you know as well as thinking about what you want and need… and then hoping that your partner will be open-minded enough to sit and talk about these things in an grown-up, intelligent way.

Yeah, right – sure they will. Again, the funny thing is often that a partner does want to have this conversation because they, too, knows that some stuff needs some serious intervention and changes, oh, like someone discovering their bisexuality, for instance. The logic is easy to follow but even as I learned – and as I’ve said a lot – logic tends to fail miserably in the face of emotional response. It’s like, “Yeah, you’re right… but I believe in the sanctity of the relationship….” Sometimes, this conversation comes up and the first reaction is one of being offended: “You trying to tell me I’m not enough for you? You don’t love me? Don’t want me anymore?”

At this point, you can construct the most eloquent and logical argument you can manage… and it means nothing because this kind of emotional response will take your carefully crafted logic and obliterate it. Utterly. At this point, you’d probably have a better chance having this conversation with your pet or some other inanimate object because the person you mentioned this to will tune you out, shut the conversation down… and you’d better not even think about bringing it up again – what the fuck is wrong with you?

What’s wrong is that the relationship needs major fixing and we’ve done some stuff to fix it but it either doesn’t stay fixed or it’s not enough. It’s not so much what’s wrong with me… it’s what’s wrong with us and, surely, you can’t sit there and tell me that you’re 100% happy and satisfied with the way things have been going.

See, this is the one main reason why people cheat on each other; whenever a person’s needs are being ignored or otherwise not being taken care of by the person tasked to do just that, there are – has been – only two things to be done. One is forget about what you want and need and maintain the status quo and no matter how fucked up it is and the other is to dissolve the relationship and start over with someone else… and with the understanding that you’re gonna wind up back in this situation.

It’s never a matter of it… it’s a matter of when it’ll happen… and it will happen.

The hardest thing about opening the box is convincing the other person that it’s going to be in their best interest as well and they’re gonna think that it isn’t and won’t be… even when, in fact, they’re aware of the same things you’ve become aware of and if sexuality is a part of the equation, well, that just makes shit even more interesting, doesn’t it? The sad part is that no matter the need and reason to open the box, most people would be ready and willing to throw it all away rather than to make the attempt to fix things so that they can stay together and more so when, as far as the rest of the relationship is concerned, things have been pretty damned good.

But the work has only just begun and as difficult it is to even broach this subject – and it’s very hard to do – you haven’t even gotten close to the really hard parts and one of them is putting all thoughts and feelings – both good and not so good – out in the open for discussion. It’s probably going to be the most intense and painful conversation you’ll ever have with someone because chances are good you both are gonna hear some shit you never knew about and once you hear it, you’re gonna wish you hadn’t.

Even if you manage to survive this part of opening the box, the next problem is, “How are we gonna do this?” What usually makes this a problem is that the people having this section of the discussion have differing needs and their own idea about what can be done, who, when, etc., and this isn’t the kind of conversation where you can talk about it for a couple of hours and come to an immediate agreement. Well, wait a moment – you could do this except you’re likely to find out that it was a mistake and one that’s not easily corrected.

In this planning phase – and provided y’all have agreed to give this a shot – it’s time to lay down some rules and I’ve observed (and know for a fact) that the more rules you have, the more difficult it’s going to be to put the plan into action. And I’ve heard some doozies that are constructed more to preserve the intimacy of the relationship, which is important, but also tends to make it harder for someone to be their “new” self in this. Which is kinda odd since intimacy – any kind of intimacy – is the thing that’s not working as expected so in a way, some folks are trying to preserve something that, chances are, has fallen through the cracks.

If you manage to get through this part, wow, now it gets even harder and it comes in the form of a question: Can you imagine your partner being with someone else? I can tell you that it’s kinda/sorta easy to imagine it – and if you’re thinking about taking things in this direction, yeah, you’ve thought about it to a degree. I can tell you, however, that thinking about it is one thing… knowing that someone else is [hopefully] showing your partner a good time… and if that has you cringing as you read this, seeing it is even harder and harder still when you see your partner reacting to someone else and in ways they’ve either never reacted with you or hasn’t since the early phases of your relationship.

This is that part of things that will separate the children from the adults. I can’t begin to tell you how much of a fucked up feeling that is and that’s on top of it coming out into the open that you aren’t really all they’d ever want and need. Like the thing with bisexuals I’ve mentioned: If your man/woman needs another man/woman, well, unless there’s something very special about you, you’re not equipped for it physically and/or emotionally… and being made aware of this hurts like a son-of-a-bitch.

Or, somewhere in the mix – and provided that you’ve managed to work things out so that it can be done – you find out something about your partner that even they didn’t know about themselves.

Some people manage to survive all of this and now they’re out of the box and surviving and thriving and, sometimes, beyond their initial expectations… and most people totally, utterly, and completely fail because, again and as I’ve said repeatedly, in order to do this, you have to unlearn everything you thought you knew about love, sex, and relationship in order to learn a new way to do these things… and let’s add doing these things without trashing the relationship.

One reason this doesn’t happen when, maybe it should, isn’t that we’re not supposed to go there – it’s usually because we have no fucking idea how to do it which makes sense when we really and barely know how to have a relationship in the first place; despite any advice and no matter how many relationships you’ve been in, it’s usually on the job training – and many find that opening the box is OJT times ten to the one-hundredth power.

Most people won’t do this because it’s so fucking hard to do.

When this popped into my head – and, no, don’t even bother to ask me why it did because I really don’t know – I knew I would write this in a way that might suggest that if you’ve been thinking about this, eh, ya might not want to do it. I do, in fact, tell people not to do this if they don’t think they can. If you haven’t sat down with each other and put everything on the table, don’t do it. As always, if you are prone to those negative emotions – envy, jealously, selfishness, etc., – and you don’t think you can overcome them, nah, don’t even go there.

But if the two of you think it can and should be done, well, it’s not gonna be all fun and games because just like any other relationship, it has to be constantly worked on and requires even more communication of the deep and meaningful kind than ever before. To this end, some people say, “Okay… we can do this… but I don’t ever want to hear about what you’re doing and I’m sure as shit not gonna say anything about what I’m doing!”

That’s a mistake, believe it or not since, should things not be working out or some other issue comes up, keeping it under your hat and thinking that you can figure it out and/or handle on your own isn’t a smart thing to do. The most common mistake made other than a breakdown in communication?

Rules violations. I’ve actually and literally have heard people sit down and make a shitload of rules that says what can and can’t be done and, I dunno, perhaps naively thinking that every- and everyone involved is going to abide by those rules and as if shit, as presented by Mr. Murphy, can’t, won’t, and shouldn’t happen. And when shit happens, it usually hits a really big fan.

No one can account for every single and little thing that might happen if the box has been opened and conventional wisdom in this suggests that the two people who wanna give this a shot, at the very least, be aware of this very important fact. The whole purpose of this is to be able to take care of those needs that have appeared albeit with some outside help and the biggest mistake I’ve seen has been people diving into this… and “forgetting” to take care of each other, which is kinda understandable because this is some new and pretty exciting stuff. It’s why I say that the first rule to be made should be, “Take care of home first.” Oh, and don’t half-ass it.

The real trick of this is to improve your relationship with each other and one other failure I’ve seen is that some folks go into this thinking “me” and not “us” – as in how will being out of the box benefit “us” the most.

God… this has turned out to be a very long scribble even for me… which speaks to how much of a critical and life-changing subject this is. What’s the right way to go about this? That’ll be whatever way the two of you come up with – I’m just the guy who’ll tell you how you can easily fuck this up. I’m not telling you how to do it – I’m telling you how not to do it. An open relationship means more than engaging with other people: It also means being open with each other and, very likely, in ways you’ve never been open with each other before.

Getting out there and doing something? Believe it or not, that’s the easy part compared to what has to be done before you even think about mentioning this. I tell guys – in particular – that if you’re not prepared to offer whatever your partner might want and unwilling to negotiate and compromise, you will fail to convince them that this is something the both of you should do and for the sake of love for each other… and even if your partner doesn’t think they need this. For the partner who gets hit with this? If you’re not willing to “come clean” with things you feel needs to be fixed and, even in theory, how this could work for you, well, that’s a problem.

Just talking about this is about the ugliest conversation you are ever going to have with your partner… I do mean ugly like you’ve never experience emotional ugliness before. It just flat out sucks to know that you’re not all they’re ever gonna want and need – and no matter what the rules say. I know how it made me feel and when I think about it, it still makes me want to throw up. It’s so incredibly difficult to see the logic and sense in this when every emotion you own and everything you ever believed in is, bluntly, getting trashed and unimaginably so.

It’s not your fault and, yeah, even if it is your fault, the decision to open the box comes down to a few questions. What are you willing to do to fix things? Are their things in your mind that you just will not ever do for the sake of love itself? And, I think, the most important question of all: Do you really love them as much as you say and think you do?

Most people find out that they don’t. They’re not wiling to do all which is possible to fix things and their whole MO about being in a relationship is everything they’re not gonna do. And that crazy-assed thing that tells someone and makes them say that if I’m not enough for you, well, you can leave and the sooner, the better. One of the expected questions should this conversation come up is, “What about me?”

And it’s very, very hard to get them to see and understand that this opening the box thing is just as much about them as it is about yourself.

Good luck with it. I really mean that. It can be done. These days, a lot of people are doing it and in some pretty innovative ways that provides some stuff outside of “just sex” or whatever. Some couples are more poly than open because if you have more people working toward a common goal – everyone being as deliriously happy as humanly possible, well, that just works…

If you can figure out how to make and keep it working. Shit… even you’re even brave enough to even bring it up. Your choices are simple, actually: Do nothing and remain in whatever ruts you’ve created for yourselves. Dissolve the relationship and just toss the baby out with the bath water. Or, try to do the unthinkable and break every relationship rule that ever existed because, well, you’ve tried everything else, huh?


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