The throes of romance can make for strange bedfellows in the polyamorous world. I’m a naturally secretive person in real life, and so I don’t have any compunction about keeping things on the down low. I don’t mind telling you, dear readers, but everybody else is in the dark.
Let’s say for example that I know this guy named Jay. Now, Jay is terribly in love with a certain lady named Cynthia. He obsesses about Cynthia. He asks after her all the time. The two of them met at a party, and he has been smitten ever since. At a fancy Christmas party he put together a whole package with poetry and a romantic letter he had written and presented it to her, in front of a small crowd.
Being the kind of person who obsesses and plans things in advance, Jay had put a lot of stock in this romantic moment. He had told a number of people who were in attendance that night about his plans. Most people knew something was going to go down. Cynthia was taken off guard, and suffice to say that her reaction was not good news for Jay.
She wasn’t rude or anything. She appreciated the gesture, and she hung out with him quite a bit that night, but after that it was more meh. Jay emailed and even called Cynthia a few times, but she was not eager to meet. Jay, as he does, obsessed about it, wondering and wondering why he couldn’t get through to her.
Meanwhile, me and my lady went to a so-called sex party. It wasn’t an orgy per se, but it was a chance for people to explore consent and challenge their fear of asking for and offering different kinds of touch. That was the plan going in, anyhow. What ended up happening was that we had a fiery threeway with Cynthia!
It’s hard to complain about getting it on with two redheads at the same time. Still, things got a bit weird when I was hanging out with Jay a few days later. I told him we’d been to a sex party, and he asked if Cynthia had been there.
“Yes, I told him, not wanting to lie.
“Did you talk to her?” he asked me.
“Um,” I said, “She was there, but to be honest, we didn’t do a lot of talking.”
I don’t know if this was a satisfactory skirting of the facts or not, but that’ what I said. While he went into a swoon about Cynthia—how could he get with her, how could he get into her heart—I thought about her naked body pressed against mine. I thought about watching the two tangled scarlet manes of my lady and Cynthia intermingled.
I felt bad, but I also felt really good. I don’t know why we choose who we choose. It just is that way.
Tell us what you think