Poly Disconnect

(Note: Affiliate links included.)

My eyes were shut, the thin slip of a makeshift silken blindfold covered them. The darkness heightened my other senses. I felt the softness of the bed beneath my naked body. My hands bound gentle but taut to the bed frame. My skin prickled with anticipation. What was I going to experience next? Ryan’s lips kissed just above the soft lips of my pussy. The feeling sent an electric thrum of pleasure up my spine. More kisses traveled up my body to my nipple which he took between his teeth. My heart quickened. I felt my breath catch in my throat. He expertly suckled and nipped. My senses were on fire: the taste of his tongue against mine, his earthy scent, and then the feel of his mouth traveling back down my body to take in my clit.

He moved away, leaving me in the wake of a myriad of sensations. My mind was locked into the present. My blood ran hot with the anticipation of what was next. I didn’t have to wait long. I felt the smooth glide of his newly oiled hands run from my stomach to my breasts. He squeezed my nipples, eliciting a gasp of delight. I loved the feeling of his strong, powerful grip softened with massage oil and the intent to tease my orgasm.

Yes, those hours swept up in Ryan’s sensual ministrations were sexy and thrilling and real because the one thing I have always promised you, Dear Readers, is honesty in my stories and thoughts. That weekend away with Ryan was real and so was the uncertainty I had felt a few weeks before our time together. You’ll recall in my prior post, Ryan was an adamant believer in polyamory and specifically the perspective of “Polysecure”, by Jessica Fern. Before meeting in person, we had many conversations regarding our views of what it means to be polyamorous. We agreed upon a lot and, most importantly, the fundamentals of communication. At this point, aside from my husband, I had never opened my heart up to another man the way I had with Ryan.

Was I in love with him? I’ve spoken at length about my thoughts on the idea of being “in love”. I can certainly assert my intentional and sincere investment in my relationship with Ryan. Had he asked me to enter a more traditional closed throuple with he and my husband (despite the distance between us), I would have done it in a heart beat. I can confidently say, he was truly my first poly boyfriend.

And then came a conversation that rocked the foundation we had built.

Ryan could be a bit distant at times. I was fine with it but I also wanted to understand the drops in communication. I’m the type of person that can adjust without problem, when I know the context. And we had built enough rapport at this time, I felt it was okay to ask.

He apologized. He’d been with his “primary”.

Wait, what?

The fuck is a primary?

The primary was apparently another woman this entire time I had no recollection of him mentioning before whom he’s had a relationship with for the past two years. My issue wasn’t her in the picture but rather her ‘suddenly’ in the picture. I heard the word “primary” and immediately felt like the “secondary”. One very important note, Dear Readers, I am nobody’s “secondary”. Like everything in life, it boiled down to a matter of interpretation. Enter more of Ms. Fern’s poly terminology. According to Ryan, a primary is a partner whom a considerable amount of time is spent with and had been in a relationship for quite a while (two years to be exact at the time of our conversation).

Fair enough. It took some mental shifting to realign this new reality but, as stated, I’m flexible. I’m also understanding. I have my stag, he had his primary. Ryan also acknowledged he preferred to remain open to other partner opportunities, as well. Not a problem. I simply readjusted my expectations of this relationship and re-opened myself to the potential of other partners as well. Little did I know how complicated the simple knowledge and transparency of my own freedom would make things.

The thing about Ryan, he was a fantastic communicator. He invested sincerely in my life and I in his. We managed the distance with sexy pictures and steamy video sessions. It helped bridge the gaps of physical connection until we could see each other. There were travels to see each other, like the one I described at the beginning. In person, it was wonderful. We connected without distraction. The companionship was stimulating in all the right ways.

Apart, we did a good job navigating the occasional difficulties by remaining open to mature conversation. If one of us had a concern, we talked through it. Maturity was actually one of the leading qualities he admired in our relationship; the assurance we could talk through the problems.

It was the night of one of our sexy video sessions. I lay naked, my Lush deep inside my pussy, the PC camera pointed to give him ample view so he could see my pleasure as he stroked and coaxed the orgasm with a click of the Lush’s virtual app. We played. We murmured teasing encouragements. Who would cum first? He did. I saw the spurt of white and grinned in triumph, even as he bared down on the Lush’s control, and had me trembling with waves of pleasure. We laid back in the euphoria of shared ecstasy.

“Hey can I talk to you about something?”

He seemed excited.

Of course, I was intrigued.

“What’s up?”

Ryan proceeds to tell me his fantasy of a threesome with me and another woman. I admitted I would not be opposed to it. I’m adventurous and open to new experiences. With the right person, it could be fun.

The next day I get a random photo of another woman he was apparently seeing and whom he would like me to connect with for a possible threesome.

Bad timing. Poor assumptions. But, as always, we were able to talk through it. We agreed to be candid about our other relationships, of which I learned of quite a few others.

Mature communication. The willingness to hear and be heard. I valued Ryan and felt valued. So when he brought his own concerns about my other relationships and specifically his concern for medical confirmation showing sexual health, I accommodated. It became a bit of a trend when my other partners were discussed. Always that lean into the concern for sexual health. You see, Ryan knew about my Dear Vixey blog. He read it and would even admit his insecurities regarding his comparison to other stallions. He wasn’t as young and didn’t have the stamina. I tried to assure there was more to sexual fulfillment. If he read my post about feminine libido, he’d know. And he ticked my boxes in many ways, including sexually.

But I began to recognize a very real, deep-set fear of sexual competition. More and more, he told me about his relationships. More and more, he would hint at my relationships in coy ways that made it apparent the internalized sexual insecurities were causing some anxiety in the relationship. Ryan’s personality was one of cool nonchalance and complete control so it’s not something he would admit. But I was beginning to see the cracks in the facade.

I’m not above my own insecurities. It’s important to me in the midst of a myriad of others, why I was special and unique to him and not just a number. I was the long-distance relationship and I needed some reassurances sometimes. His idea of specialness was in the investment in communication. But that didn’t answer the question and I told him as much. How am I special to you? He never could directly answer the question. More red flags.

Our sexual connection began to decline. Our relationship was becoming more friendship and less romantic. He tried to reason the change away as a byproduct of the difficult time he was experiencing with his primary. He wasn’t in a right headspace to maintain sexual intimacy with me for the time being. Yet again, adjustment, understanding, accommodation. Because here’s the thing, Dear Readers, I truly did care for Ryan. Despite all the back and forth and changes to our dynamics, I valued our relationship.

That’s why I am still shaken by what happened next.

It had been a few months. We played the friendship game for a while. I eventually brought up the topic of intimacy. What could I expect moving forward? His answer? He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure if/when he would feel that (rather important) way toward me again. I shared my needs, fully secure in the theme of our relationship and the thing he had continually praised: mature conversation.

What I received?

An abrupt end to the year we had built together.

I was stunned. I was hurt.

This was more than just sex, this was an end to so much shared investment in each others lives. Tossed away like it was nothing. You might ask why. It could have been because he and his primary had reconnected, or maybe it was all that built up insecurity about my other relationships. At the end of the day, the why doesn’t really matter. It was the how and the when.

A simple text during a stressful time in my life when I could have really used grace, patience and understanding.

Dear Readers, do not mistake my lamenting for a pity party. Nor am I here to use my platform to destroy another person’s character or flail against the wrongs. At the end of the day, this is my journal to write my thoughts, my feelings, and share genuine stories of real relationships. It’s not always sex and rainbows. Often times relationships are complicated. They can be messy. But in the words of Ryan’s favorite book on the topic of alternative relationships, “Relationships are not static but an ongoing flow of harmony to disharmony, rupture and repair, connection, disconnection and back into connection again” (Polysecure, Fern).

To show love is to invest in the bridges between harmony and disharmony, rupture and repair and the disconnection to connection that takes place in relationships. One thing I promise every person I choose to let in is a sincere effort at showing love. Ryan hurt me but I don’t see a villain. I see a man who struggles with internalized feelings of inadequacy; a man who manufactures perceptions of unaffectedness; a man who prioritizes his perspectives, needs and wants above others.