I Hate Change:Thoughts on Acting Like a Human When You Want to Act Like Cling Wrap

This week has been AWFUL. I'm sick. My head is the sausage casing for the most disrespectful congestion I have endured in the last five years. Mini Femme has moved south with her mom and sibling. While the change in time spent has not been terrible, the interruptions in our daily call have been a struggle. My schedule with Kyle has been purposefully wonkified to accommodate both of us getting to bed by 9:30 (ish) and my school schedule. Did I mention that I hate change?

I'm a hot mess.

I'm not sure if that is better or worse than a cold mess.

The discovery that the definitions Kyle and I  held in our minds regarding the term "Partner" were so different. Mine is so tied to LGBTQIAA historical context, and also the Relationship Escalator. I still don't have a clear idea of what Kyle was referring to with the word.

I started reading "Stepping Off the Relationship Escalator: Uncommon Love and Life" by Amy Gahran. I've finished Part 1 and I have realized I might be more Escalator oriented than the average solo polyamorous person. I also have a nagging concern that if I can't attend conventions and larger events without another person, what kind of Solo Polyamorous person am I?

Right now, you might be thinking that I am TOTALLY OVERTHINKING this whole thing. I agree with you. I don't believe that it is possible to for me stop that behavior. I might change my mind in the future, but for now, these completely unhelpful thoughts reverberate through my cranium on a frequent basis.

With all this stuff ^^^^ rolling around in my brain, I still have to figure out how to behave like the values I espouse: Kindness, autonomy, accountability, love, and joy.

Mostly, I just take a deep breath...make that 1000. And pet my cat. And try to look at something beautiful.

Another Jaunt Down Amnesia Lane...

Occasionally, I check Google for folks from my past. One person that I check on is my first love. He also happens to be the person with which I first experienced sex. I recall the anniversary of that specific event as March 21 and that triggers my thoughts to wander his way. Over the intervening decades, there hasn't been much about him to find. Nothing in the standard social media venues and no pictures except the ones that sit in my photo albums.

Of course, time marches on and as we get more connected via the internet, it becomes more difficult to be hidden. This year, I found a picture of him on a career website and on Google+. 

It's been 27 years. Why might I actually still give a shit? I give a shit because he was kind, and humble, and smart. I give a shit because he was always the blue print of what I wanted a man to be. He was a clear communicator; and a feminist in ways that I couldn't be a feminist until my daughter was born.  I don't recall that he self classified that way; I just knew in my bones that I was safe with him in ways that I really haven't been safe since. I also felt that all women were safe that way with him.

And now, there is the slim possibility that I could contact him. You can see who checked you out on career sites. I don't know if he would even remember me. If he does, he probably remembers a clingy, sex-crazed, smart girl who thought that her fatness was a problem.

I also don't want to find out if he is no longer like that kind young man that I recall. I don't want my idea of him shattered after 27 years.

And so I will sit with the feeling of kindness and safety when I remember his eyes.

Non-Monogamy For Monogamous Folks, Part 2: Your Identity and Your Feelings

This is a follow up, long in coming, for Non-Monogamy For Monogamous Folks, Part 1: Resources

Your identity is YOURS. It is not dependent upon others for definition or validation.

Dating a polyamorous person does not make YOU polyamorous.
Dating a polyamorous person does not make YOU polyamorous.
Dating a polyamorous person does not make YOU polyamorous.
And so it is.

Now that you've read that sentence three times, you believe it.

When I first started on this road, I knew just a few things.

1. Kyle is polyamorous.
2. Kyle is married.
3. I love Kyle.
4. Loving Kyle means loving all of him, and to me, that also meant his family. (YMMV, not all people want to meet, see, or get to know any other partners/family members)
5. I wanted a life that included Kyle.

I set about to figure out number five, because I have a long history of insecurity. One big topic that many folks talk about is jealousy; how do you cope with it, combat it, or can you not feel it at all?

Jealousy and envy are real feelings. They really suck. THEY ARE DIFFERENT and that difference is hugely important. You have to know what you are feeling in order to cope with it. Simply stated jealousy is the fear of losing something (or someone) you have and envy is the feeling of lack when someone has something (or someone) you want.

I struggle more with envy than with jealousy: I want the fun things that Kyle gets that I don't have the money to purchase. I want to have fun casual sex, like Kyle, but I'm to picky to participate in it. I am grateful that Kyle is willing to wade through the emotional labor of listening to me process my feelings. I think he is grateful that I don't generally ask him to do anything about my feelings, because they are mine and generally I just need to feel them. Your datemate might not be the best person to assist you in processing your feelings; though I believe that sharing feelings once they're processed is important in any relationship.

You might find that shouldering the extra emotional labor of dating a polyamorous person is not what you want to do with your time and energy. That is OK.

Partner: My Definition *updated*

I came of age at a time where queer folks weren’t allowed to get married. We used the word “Partner” as a code for “Spouse.” And now all kinds of folks use that code word to mean all kinds of things.

When I hear that word, I hear the history. I hear the time when we could not marry those that we love and protect them as straight folks did. We protected our own as best we could, given the constraints of the time. I cannot unhear that history, fraught with tension and fear.

If you want to be partners with me, there is that history and bits and snatches of the traditional relationship escalator. No you can’t live with me. No I won’t mingle finances with you.

Yes, you will get all of my attention when I am with you. Yes, I will likely go overboard with emotional support. Yes, I will hold you accountable for so many things that you might decide it isn’t worth it. Yes, I expect to be there when you need me and I expect you to be there when I need you. I expect these things even when it is inconvenient for your wants, or mine. I expect to be a part of ALL of your life, not just the parts where I fit in easily.

Yes, I expect that you will look at your couple privilege if you have a spouse or any other partners. I expect that you will listen to me when I tell you how it impacts me and I expect that you will do something about it.

I’d like formalized commitment because I value long term commitment and I want it recognized by others.

And your idea of partner might not match mine. And that is ok. And you might want* to call me your partner. Please don't; your definition of partner and mine don’t match.

New Experience of Sex (the verb) in my *Queerbody

Sex has been an interesting thing for me...

I've been sexually active for almost three decades and even with all that experience, I can still learn and experience new things...

FUCK THIS SHIT! I've been trying write about this transformative experience for nearly a week. Finding the words is difficult and I feel so frustrated because what actually happened was so awesome for me in my transbody.

There are so many ways that I relate with my body sexually; I find sexual pleasure across most surfaces of my skin. My primary and secondary sexual characteristic (reproductive?) body parts are no exception and most of my sexual activities to this point include those body parts.

Sometimes, though, those parts separate themselves from my sexual pleasure. It strikes at odd times and I haven't been sure if it's a problem or not. I've tried to overcome it by asking Kyle to go slow, even though I'm not feeling it, and sex me up in ways I have historically enjoyed.

The other thing is that my gender is shifting again*, or maybe settling into a more comfortable place. I got so anxious when I wrote that sentence, I knocked and spilled my coffee three times in rapid succession. So much of my sex has been tied up with my gender; how I relate it to my body parts, how it feels to be in my skin, how I enjoy sex with partners.

The other night, I was feeling sexy. I was with Kyle and my body responded in ways I didn't expect. I wanted lighter and more superficial touches. In my body, I felt like I had the smooth genital contours of a Ken doll (thank you fat mons) and my chest felt the same, with smaller breasts than Barbie but the same nipple-less profile.  I felt perfect and iridescent and my orgasm was like the blossoming and ever-changing star lights that Kyle purchased as a gift at IKEA.

I wish I could describe it better. I wish I could transport you there with me. I wish that you could have the attentive and patient and loving sex that Kyle shares with a partner. I wish you could feel how satisfying it all was. I wish your eyes could be opened in such a loving way.

*I feel unsure about what is happening with my gender. Before I took testosterone, I felt like Genderfluid fit. While I was taking testosterone, I felt like Genderqueer fit. Now I've been off testosterone for a while and I have no idea what is going on with my gender;  Genderfluid and Genderqueer miss the mark, now.