Jesse was kind of an asshole. At least that’s how I had him pegged, right out the gate. He was a leader in the company and the first time I saw him, he was presenting to  one of my company’s divisions. No nonsense, grumpy, aggressive: my initial impressions were of a salty man who wanted nothing to do with the rest of us, beyond what his profession required. Funny enough, and as fate would have it, part of his profession required he sometimes drive visiting co-workers to the airport, when their lost luggage finally arrived. That is how I found myself in a tiny rental with Mr. Salty. It was roughly an hour’s drive and it was exactly as you might expect: awkwardly quiet.

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I get asked a lot about books and things that helped shape my view of open marriage. Although this post doesn’t necessarily have the sexy times, I felt “The Ethical Slut” was a great read that reaffirmed how I feel about how my stag and I do marriage. I’ve referenced Jessica Fern’s Polysecure in a few past stories and while I certainly respect her opinion and approach to polyamory, the broad strokes of her thoughts can sometimes lose the topic. If there’s one thing you have likely noticed in the years I’ve been writing, it’s that I will always give my honest, straight-forward perspective on the ethics of open marriage…and also share with you the fun times 😘. I believe that is why Easton and Hardy’s Ethical Slut resonated so much with me.

Vincent. Think of a towering, caramel-skinned Adonis: a thick, muscled build, kind eyes, a soft smile. He had an old spirit, preferring documentaries and his quiet times away from the bustle of life. We met at work and immediately hit it off. I appreciated his humor. There is nothing better than a guy who can banter. And Vincent was good in many regards. It didn’t hurt that there was a very real, very apparent mutual attraction. The flirting began innocent enough. And then we began to explore the boundaries.

Fair warning, I’ve promised to be honest in everything, even when love and relationships aren’t the best (as evidenced in my last post). You can rest assured of my authenticity if but for the fact that I’m not here to fabricate a magically amazing rebound. No, unfortunately, what follows is a string of bad luck. But do not fear! Because in true Vixey fashion, I am not here to rant, nor drag you down with a flailing mess of ‘woe is me’. Instead, we are going to crack open a metaphorical bottle and have some fun with a line of duds.