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why it’s okay for polyamory to -sometimes- be about sex

Not only sex. But involving sex.

“Polyamory isn’t about sex! It’s about love!” A common cry from the polyamorous communities. I completely understand where they are coming from, as well. People in poly relationships are sick of being told how their relationships are just about sex; that they can only have multiple sexual relationships; that only one can be a deep, emotional relationship.

There is, believe it or not, a difference between an open relationship and a polyamorous one; one allows for multiple sexual (physically intimate beyond hugging and platonic gestures) and one allows for multiple Relationships with all the trappings and expectations one might have in any typical monogamous romantic relationship (though any particular relationship may have any number of traits associated with mono relationships).

I’ve stopped saying that. I’m more likely to respond to the question, “Isn’t polyamory about sex?” with “Well, relationships are often about sex, if that’s what you mean. And generally, even in monogamy, one doesn’t establish rules and expectatations around non romantic relationships, i.e. friends and family, the same way one does around the Relationship we associate with sex, i.e. romantic relationships. So, yeah, polyamory is about the latter form of relationship.”

There are, after all, many loving relationships in any person’s life, polyamorous or not.

The many other forms of relationships still exist. So, if we’re saying that it’s all relationships, sexual or not, well, everyone is polyamorous. Everyone has multiple loving relationships, because we love our children, our family, our friends. But we don’t say everyone is polyamorous, because we’re not talking about those kinds of love. We’re talking about Romantic Love. And even if a particular Romantic relationship isn’t sexual, it’s still societally accepted to have sex with that person, without raising any eyebrows.

I don’t like when polyamory forgets the simple fact that multiple loves are not the exclusive domain of polyamory. Please stop saying that you are polyamorous because you “just have too much love in your heart.” You can have all that love and give it friends. You don’t have to give it to romantic partners. That is just a personal preference.

Just because you are monogamous does not mean you should not cultivate multiple relationships (just look at the many, many struggling stories of single mothers and fathers who lose their childrens’ other parent– and find themselves with no village at all to help them.) They may not be Romantic relationships, but they are still valid relationships.

Just because you “only” have friends beyond your “significant” other, does not mean you shouldn’t treat respect their time in the same way you would respect your husband’s. I’ve said before, and I’ll say it again, monogamous people also have multiple loves.

People in polyamorous relationships also, of course, have non sexual, non romantic relationships. But—

When it comes to talking about Polyamory, we’re often referring specifically to their multiple sexual, romantic relationships.

For purposes of discussing or understanding polyamory, we’re not talking about poly folk having friendships. Because, yes, they do, but so does everyone. So I will allow that polyamory is about commitment. Relationships. Love. But, also, gasp!, sex!

I don’t want to be afraid of the fact that sex is important to me in my life and in my romantic relationships, though not a requirement. I don’t want to pretend that it isn’t important, as important as any other feeling I desire that makes up the emotion I call “love.” And I don’t want to pretend that this doesn’t hold true for many other polyamorous folk.

It is, of course, also possible to be non monogamous and monoAMOROUS. In other words, they could only have deep emotional attachment, commitment and love with one person…but also have multiple sexual relationships. But that just means that, in this case, polyamory IS literally just about sex. Which is also okay.

So I might leave off the judgmental attitude that polyamory isn’t just sex for another reason. Saying that polyamory is “more” than “just” sex, implies that if you are in a lot of sexual relationships without emotion that what you have is “less.” Let’s stop with that, no?

I think acknowledging that “Polyamory IS (often) About Sex” strengthens non sexual relationships.

I love that my friendships can be deeper than they’ve ever been before– because I’m not held back in developing close relationships with others, simply because I’m dating a person (or two…or three…)

But, now, even if I returned to monogamy, I would never return to monoamory. I couldn’t stop being loving with my friends. I couldn’t do the jealous, possesive kind of monogamy that I now find toxic. The idea that having close emotional connections to other people is threatening? Nope. Never doing that again. Don’t think anyone should, either.

Now, if I were to functionally be monogamous, i.e. in one romantic/sexual relationship, I wouldn’t do what I did before. I wouldn’t feel any differently. I’d practice monogamy the same as I did polyamory, but I simply wouldn’t be, ummm, I actually don’t know. I guess I’d only be physically intimate with one person. Maybe. Or maybe I’d only have one person that was at the “partner” level for me. I still would stay emotionally close to anyone I had been earlier.

Monogamy doesn’t have to be toxic. It can look and feel as healthy and open minded (or as unhealthy and close minded, as the case may be) as polyamory, only with a lesser number of partners. But even that I say with a bit of skepticism, since perhaps their “best friend” is just as supportive and close as any spouse or primary partner. So, really, no difference at all. Except for the sex (which if it did involve sex would at least make the person non monogamous, so I’ll make the assumption here that sex is not involved).

Polyamory is about love, but why shouldn’t any relationship style be all about love?

In my worldview, anyone can be about love. I do often refer to “just” my relationships that involve sexual intimacy when I refer to my partners and my polycule/polyship.

But love? Let’s make love something that we all make a habit of doing more? Loving our friends. Loving and understanding those with different views than ourselves (while also not compromising on our basic morals; this doesn’t mean we have to be gentle and accepting of abusers, racists, narcissists, etc.)

Love is good and I think the world would be better off if we had more of it.

And that’s my crazy opinion.

Photo by Lenin Estrada from Pexels

when two robots fall in love: a story about compersion

I adore WALL-E.

It came out ten years ago, a couple of years before I settled into practicing my form of polyamory. Before I knew the word existed. I moved to Korea shortly after the movie was released, and I showed it to my Korean students. Their mastery of English varied quite a bit (though all speak it infinitely better than I speak Korean); and this is one where you don’t need to know many words. You just need to feel compassion.

Not long after I returned to the US, I watched my partner kiss his then love– and I didn’t feel jealous. I did feel pleased for them. It made me think they were in love.

At various points along my journey into a polyamorous relationship, I think about why this love story makes me feel good, when most fail to impress me at even the barest level. Perhaps, I think to myself as I fall asleep, its the fact that the love between the two robots is not romantic. It’s not sexual. There’s no expectations, no “relationship agreements.” It’s a pure love, devoid of complications that I witness in other romantic love stories. Their battle is never with each other.

The story of WALL-E and EVE is simple, but beautiful.

There’s a sweet montage where “La Vie En Rose” plays in the background while WALL-E does awkwardly adorable things to try and get EVE’s attention. But when it becomes clear to WALL-E that what EVE cares about is this little green plant? He risks everything to give it to her. It’s not about him. I mean, he likes the plant, but he doesn’t see it the same way she does.

But it’s important to her. It means everything to her, and so it is everything to him (and, at the same time, he still takes care of what is important to him and doesn’t lose himself utterly to her, even as he grows in his compersiveness).

What their love is, is compersive.

WALL-E is still one of my favorite movies. I love animation. I love cute romantic stories that don’t make me puke.

Leave off the voyeur aspect of compersion. Leave off the idea that it means you must be jumping off the ground giddy every time your partner dates someone new. Leave off the idea that you need to gain JOY from your partner’s other partner.

Boil it down to the very essence of the word:

Happiness in someone else’s happiness.

I love how simple and happy the little robot is for the first robot friend he meets, even if it does take him a bit to get it “right.” All he really knows is what makes himself happy. He’s never had to worry about his cockroach companion, and that’s the only “person” he’s ever known. So, he’s not perfect about it at first, but he does try.

EVE doesn’t respond to WALL-E’s initial advances. Unless you count trying to blow him up with lasers. In general, she ignores him. Nonetheless, he keeps trying.

Because her happiness stirs something in him that makes life more than just getting up, doing a day’s work, and going back to robot sleep.

That, I believe, is the true beauty of compersion.

The idea that you are happy, because your partner (for purposes of this writing, I shall say ‘partner,’ but it could be a friend, family member, etc.) is happy. That you can be happy for their happiness– when they get a new job, when they achieve a new success, when they meet a new girl that curls their toes. That their being happy makes you feel warmer inside.

Sometimes my friends, my partners, my “tribe,” find happiness in something totally unrelated to me. That doesn’t mean they love me less. It simply means, on occasion, that we have different interests. Of course the fewer interests we share, the harder it might be to have a long lasting, entwined relationship (if we find everything about each other tedious, we might rethink whether we want to be together).

The funny thing is it actually does provide more joy in your life. Not the kind of joy where my Partner Sue dates her Partner Bobby…and Bobby becomes my friend so I get joy from our friendship…but a selfless joy.

It’s not better or more enlightened than other sorts of happy feelings– it’s merely different. But I am very much a “collect em all” when it comes to the pleasant, happy feelings. I highly recommend this one. (I also believe I deserve someone who can be compersive towards me, as well.)

Sometimes compersion can be difficult.

At one point, WALL-E might get chased and buried under shopping carts against a set of glass doors. And other similar incidents. Whatever. Sometimes it’s a little rough on the journey.

Compersion isn’t always easy for me, or anyone else. Happiness that doesn’t involve me? What?

It’s easy enough, until we stumble. Say, you and your partner start dating a girl. Turns out she likes your partner and not you. It’s a rejection that you can’t even get away from….but can you still be happy for the two of them?

Perhaps, but don’t worry if it takes time. Especially in this sort of situation when said happiness involves, -gasp-, Other People. Their dependence on you is diluted when others provide some of their happiness and security. That can be scary. If they don’t need you, will they want you? Plus, now they are getting something that you wanted. Can you still be happy for them?

Compersion is so much more- and so much less- than the silly misconceptions surrounding it.

Such feelings are sometimes complex and require time to age, much like a fine brandy. No, it doesn’t make you a worse person to not have this one under your belt from the start. Especially when you think it means things that no actual human could accomplish.

By the way, it’s okay to not be entirely the same person as a partner of yours. I like WoW. M likes Diablo. It hasn’t killed the relationship; and he can get excited about my shiny new helmet, just as I can get excited that he’s reached a new Torment level. And sometimes I play Diablo, too (I won’t ask ANYONE to play WoW without enthusiastic consent. I’ve sold my own soul, but I will not ask anyone else to do the same unless that’s their kink. That’s just fair. Plus, lately I think I’m losing interest, anyway.)

And, please, drop the idea that it has anything to do with watching your partner engage in sexytimes with someone else. Compersion is NOT voyeurism. It literally has its own kink for that.

When all the biscuit is put aside, I think asking that our partners be happy when we get excited and happy is not asking too much. That’s all it is, for me, and for everyone I know that actually feels compersive. Rather than trying to make ourselves feel what we think we OUGHT to feel.

And it’s seriously one of the most beautiful feelings ever.

Photo by Pixabay from Pexels

the gentle tides of life wash away another layer of sand

…in an ideal, picturesque, though not entirely unachievable, world.

Some folk never quite get into traditional lifestyles. Some folk feel a bit off, but allow themselves to get settled, more or less happily, into a traditional lifestyle. Some get dragged, kicking and screaming, into a life they don’t want. I happened to be the first one, should that be of interest to you.

One’s entrance into polyamory might closer resemble a giant rock crashing down a cliff into the ocean, than a canyon eroded by a river.

…polyamory isn’t always easy at first.

You come into it, you may not know much of anything good about love and relationships, you’ve probably got to unlearn a suitcase full of toxic and destructive ideas (“Jealousy proves someone loves you,” etc, etc.).

The hard part about polyamory isn’t getting two or twenty partners– although, actually, the latter does sound pretty difficult. The real difficulty is opening yourself and adjusting your ideas of what is and isn’t possible. It’s a different way of seeing romantic love, or, perhaps, even love itself. After all, you needn’t be romantic to be polyamorous.

After that, well, the rest is mostly logistics and finding someone who fits your desires, kinks, needs, etc. Balancing Google calendars. Figuring out if you both/all want kids or not. But you gotta do all that for any romantic life partner. Poly or otherwise.

But it’s not so easy to abandon ingrained Rules of Relationships. That takes time…and…after a while…you learn something new…

Yes, a married man can stay the night away from his wife…and a wife can spend the night from her husband.

“I met a man.  He’s married and he cannot stay the night with me.”  The first time she’s denied this it feels wrong, as if she’s left out of something that makes this love real.  A simple thing, she’s always been used to in any relationship. But he always goes home to his wife. She thinks this is just what she should expect…until she dates another married man. He willing spends nights with her, not every night, but some nights. He say, A married man is perfectly capable of spending a night with his girlfriend.”

She realizes something, too, because, frankly, she is coming to understand that she likes having her bed to herself. Some of the time. The last man didn’t owe it to her. Over time, she realizes, “Even if he were single, he had every right to choose to spend those nights with someone else, or simply keep them for himself.  I can’t expect him to spend nights with me automatically, but to seek someone who consciously chooses to spend them with me, should I desire it. Because he’ll have to accept that I can’t give him every night, either.” It’s not about what has to be, but what she and he want.

If you love two people at the same time, choose both. Because loving the second does not invalidate the first.

He can’t possibly love me.  He already loves someone.”  Perhaps it’s true, perhaps not.  She feels this is true, in her heart, except, except.  Tiny doubts swirl.  The man who claimed to love her yesterday left her without a second thought, she tells herself.  The man who says he probably doesn’t love her, that he isn’t sure about his feelings, treats her as she would treat someone she loved.  In little ways.  Texts her good night with an emoji of two people kissing, even though he doesn’t seem the “type.”  He remembers her favorite candies are salted caramel dipped in DARK chocolate. 

Tonight, can you hold me a few minutes longer?  Of course, I can, he says as he pulls her tighter to his chest.  And a part of her begins questioning the difference between what she thinks love should be in theory and what it’s meant to her in reality. “Does he love me or not, and, truthfully, do I care?” She doesn’t know. She thinks she ought to care, but she feels too happy to let herself drown in worry. He’s never said it, but a lot of people have said it to her, some that she met only virtually, some that she never even said a word to, but they loved her, somehow. And none of that made her feel a fraction of how good she feels now.

Long distance love is more than possible.

“I can’t be with him, he’s too far away.  It’ll never work.”  It’s never worked for her in the past.  She doesn’t mind, it’s just a fling. “He’ll get bored.” But he doesn’t. A trip happens, unexpectedly soon. I’m traveling to him tomorrow, for three days.  She can’t stop the excitement from shooting through her, almost like a pain. Six months later, he travels to her.  This time for a week.  “This can’t work,” she reminds herself.  The distance is bound to kill the spark. “He’ll find someone new.”

And he does, because he needs someone to share his bed through the night, too. But he doesn’t stop talking to her. The texts, the gifts, the video chats, all keep coming. Somehow, it feels as if it’s working.  For now, for the moment…and for all the moments for the next three years…she wonders, “When will it stop working?”  Eventually, she forgets to stop asking the question, far too busy managing her local loves and him.

and so it goes. each wave crashing, receding. an evolution of thought in relationships.

I apologize if I cannot give much of a timeline on how long it takes. I never bothered to learn love from fairytales or romances. I thought they were sweet, I still read fairytales. Scandanavian, Greek, Russian, Chinese. But I never took The Little Mermaid as a model of love. I learned love and relationships from watching people.

What was possible and what wasn’t possible I learned from watching what worked and didn’t work for others. I actually thought I’d learn about sex by joining my friends for the first time, because what did I know? Better to see it for myself.

I believe– and you may correct me if you like– that if something is possible for one person, it is possible for any person. Desired by anyone? No. Concievably able to happen? Barring any practical limitations, yes. Trying to force your partner to date the person you find attractive? Not very possible. Wanting your partner to spend the night with you? Completely possible.

Of course your partner may not want to spend the night away from their home. Your partner might, at your gentle nudging, find themselves swooning over the girl you picked out for them (in your head). It all depends on what people want, plus what people are capable of offering (occasionally there are limitations in what a person wants to do and what they can do). But I imagine they aren’t as limited as you’ve been made to believe.

what misconceptions have you left by the wayside?

Photo by Pixabay from Pexels

when you’re just a little different from your metamours

When I first started dating my master, he was with Someone Else.

I know, this isn’t your typical fairy tale, but it’s mine. I hope you listen, because it’s difficult to make this short. Anyway. Let me tell you about her.

Someone- in every typical, measurable societal standard- more “valuable” to him than myself.  Someone I saw as beautiful, confident, and powerful. Someone I looked up to, and placed myself, naturally I believed, below.

She got more of his time.  More of his attention.  He loved her more.  Her needs were more important to him than mine.  Her priorities were his priorities.  He spent his vacations with her, his holidays with her, everything. Everything about him was hers. She had everything I’d been taught I should want– and, moreover, she made it clear it would never be mine.

For better or worse, I didn’t expect anything different. 

I believed theirs to be the model open relationship, as this had always been my experience in the past. The “primary couple” was most important. Any other relationships were just fun, extra.  I expected to get spoiled by them, or at least one of them.  I wouldn’t have any responsibilities.  I wouldn’t have to put aside my vacation days to share with them.  I wouldn’t have to listen to their bad days.  That was what they had their partner for. If I didn’t get this, I would leave. After all, what else was there for me?

Oh, he floated ideas about a triad between me, her, and him— which would allow us all to be, more or less, equally important to each other.  But he knew that meant she and I would have to get along. I think, even then, he knew HE barely got along with her and wasn’t going to force her on me. My point is I want it to be crystal clear I had no reason to suspect I might have more; this was not a matter of, “Well, I’ll be okay with this for NOW, because I will have more in FUTURE.” Nope. What I have with him today is completely not what I ever imagined.

I wasn’t even THE girlfriend.

Sometimes the person makes a point of saying, “I have a wife and a girlfriend.” They see that as the model, the primary+1.

Not in my case. I wasn’t second best, heck, I wasn’t even third best. I probably came…fourth or fifth in his priorities? Even though, even back then, I could tell he had feelings for me. Feelings that did not mean any less, for my lack of “status” in his life. After all, I had my life that came before him, too.

He had a few girlfriends, at the time. More accurately, he had a regular play partner in the cities he traveled to for work. I was his local play partner. I guess I should have felt awful. Some days I did– but I wonder how much of that was me. How much of it was societal pressure that wanted me to feel bad. That pushed me to only want what they told me to want.

“Well, okay, you were just the girlfriend, but you probably had something else special. Like, you were the freaky, kinky playmate offering him things that nobody else did?”

By about six months in, yes, I had become his definitive Kinky Playmate.  I was the first, and only, woman who had submitted to him.  I was his travel companion.  His confidante.  Whereas, she was his wife.  The woman who accompanied him to special events, raised his family, shared his bed at night (sometimes).  We were now Different.

But for that six months, I was nothing but a much lesser version of the relationship he had with Her. He never lied to me, but he never sugar coated our relationship.

So, you might ask, why did you stay?

Fair question. And I do have answers. But the answer that rises to the top of my mind is, “Because why should I have left?” The truth is that I felt good around him. He made me feel special, in a way that none of my previous boyfriends (and sort of girlfriends) had done. I didn’t want to go, because I didn’t have a reason to go.

I didn’t care what my friends said. My poly friends told me, “You should feel just as important as she is, you’re also his partner.” My vanilla friends said the opposite; I should feel bad for being less than her and I should find someone who would put me first. I brushed all of it aside. Because, as he said to me one evening, “Who is in this room?” I answered, “You and me.” That’s all that matters, he said. I lay there, questioning this and myself, but in my heart I believed him. Or at least I wanted to believe him. Something told me it was the right thing to do.

It helped, I think, that, for a while, it was just him and me. That I had time with him, before I met any poly folk. At first, there was nobody was telling me I should feel just as important as the wife. Sure, I had vanilla people telling me how miserable I should be. But these same people also happened to be in pretty miserable relationships. I wondered who they were really trying to convince was being treated well. And for myself? I wasn’t sure if I felt special, but I didn’t care, because I thought I was his really good friend, not competition to her. (Okay, not always true, some days I did feel down. But never down enough to actually leave.)

I didn’t need sugary words. I needed to hear the truth. 

I needed to know that I could handle my reality.  That sometimes, I’m in the same role as one of their other partners, and it’s not as strong of a role, but that doesn’t make me any less valuable as a person. 

We’re not taught this life skill, to find uniqueness in ourselves, rather than our roles.  Oh, we’re told it.  Stupid memes that tell us we’re beautiful and unique. But we’re also taught we need to be someone’s True Love.  That message hits us far more often. We say we respect the workers, but it is easier to gain respect when you can attach a “the” to your title.  “I’m the CTO.”  “I’m the owner.” “The” is better than “a.”

(Perhaps you’ve already learned this lesson somewhere. If so, I am glad for you. Or maybe you’ve learned this, but have not thought to apply it to romantic situations. Personally, I find life lessons are useful in any context; I’ll frequently draw on experiences in my non romantic life to help me with my romantic dilemmas and vice versa. Not sure how to handle your metamour sleeping overnight at your home? Well, how would you handle it if your boyfriend’s cousin and their girlfriend were staying the night?)

I learned something in our relationship that none of my others had taught me.

As our relationship evolved, so did I. I realized I could be happy either way. With him as one of my few, close friends, OR as one of my many wonderful, but more distant, acquaintances. Or as anything at all, because while our time together might have been limited or constrained (no vacations, no expectations of time with his or our friends, none of what you might expect in a Romantic Relationship), it was quality.

It’s true that today we’re connected as closely two people can be. But there are other people in my life with whom I have not grown that close. And yet they are still important to me, and they will always be someone with whom I will share my time. If he had gone that way, just another friend, he would still be my friend. Do you know how rare deep, lasting, and intimate friendship is in this world?

Sometimes you are not their One True Love. Or even their Super Best Most Closest Friend. 

Sometimes you are “just that friend.”  It is your choice how to perceive this.  You can let the jealousy eat you up.  Or you can realize your own specialness and be glad you can share it with them— as you recognize their specialness and are grateful for the exposure.  You can step up and earn your own place.  The choice is always yours (and sometimes the other person won’t step up with you, and you’ve got to figure out if you just want to let it go).

I can’t promise it’ll turn out well every time.  Putting that trust in someone to treat you well, without the promises. Hoping they won’t disappoint you. Sometimes I’ll even enter an intimate, romantic relationship with someone, and it turns out this person has no place for me.  That I will never, ever have any real importance.  That they have no intention of capturing my mind, but merely toying with my body. They are just another girlfriend collector.

But so life goes. Sometimes people use me. Sometimes I use them. I try, because I wish to be considerate, to ensure I have consent to use people for fun. But misunderstandings happen. Still, at BEST, I find these sorts of relationships boring and disposable. They serve a purpose, but rarely turn out “well” for me. They are just…something to pass the time.

Some days I wonder what my life would be like if it had gone differently.

If I had been simply a fun toy for him to spend time with. Or if I had been another of many of his friends, always there, but never in any particular capacity.

Because, you see, yes, I had become Different than her. Great, right? That’s the goal? I guess, but also bear in mind that he and she had a super unhealthy relationship.

Suppose that he and his wife already shared a deep, bonded M/s relationship?  Suppose they did everything together that I would want to do with him— but he wanted to do those things with me, too? Suppose he and she had, in fact, been good for each other?

Truth be told, I SHOULD have been the Lite version of her. She shouldn’t have just been the Wife. The person on his arm to give him respectability. She should have been his friend, his confidante, even his Submissive. (Now I’m not saying all wives need to submit, but somewhere out there is a Wife that submits to her Husband, and also there’s a submissive Girlfriend. It’s just an option.) And she’d have years between them that I could not, and would not want, to compete. And it would be beautiful. And it would not make me any less beautiful myself.

Suppose I continued to be just the Relationship “Lite” version of his wife. That no matter how our relationship had grown, I would not have been unique or special. Would it have been enough to be Me?

…suppose my life had gone down another path?

Let me revisit the first six months, year, whatever it might have been. I don’t remember exactly. Before I’d developed a single special role. Before I started traveling with him as his sexy secretary and emotional confidante.

Let’s imagine that, instead of her and I diverging into very different paths, we’d instead gone along the same trajectory. Both of us continuing to build and deepen our own relationships with him.

I thought about this, because I love to overthink.  What if I’d become, oh, his rope bunny…and so had she? What if every step forward I took, she took the same one?  Or, “worse,” if she had taken the initiative and I had merely followed in her footsteps. It’s reasonable that she, like me, would have similar interests. He did take interest in us both. It stands to reason he might even- gasp!- have a type (one day she and I showed up at the same even in the same outfit. I found it hilarious).

Were that the case, I wouldn’t be able to tell myself, “Well, she’s his wife, but I’m his rope bunny.”  Or, “She’s the one he goes on vacations with most of the time, but I’m the one he travels abroad with on special occasions.”  Instead it might go like this, “She’s his wife, and I’m…the person that is at a stage far, far lower on the totem pole.” 

Strangely, or perhaps not so strangely, it doesn’t make me unhappy imagining that life. I didn’t want to be the one providing love and comfort to the guy in a sexless, loveless relationship. I imagined a world, in fact, where she and he were in a wonderful relationship and she and I were friends.  In my dreams, she smiled at me.

…if I were not in a unique role today, would that mean I meant nothing?

I was in a weird place, romantically speaking. I didn’t want the responsibility of being loved. I actually enjoyed the relative, pressure free position I held of NOT being as loved and needed. But I think it was more than that that got me through that particular trouble. And it taught me so much.

I didn’t ever think I needed him to feel special. I was already incredibly special just being able to handle the kind of life I had. I knew I had something amazing to offer anyone lucky enough to share my life. Not arrogance, but a simple acceptance of myself (this, of course, an attitude I wish I had every second of every day; some days I feel completely worthless).

I’m absolutely important and special and unique to him- now.  I wasn’t then.  And I didn’t need some stupid pat on the head and false sweet words to soothe me. I’m a little, some days, but I’m not a child.

The truth is I am always special– but not because of Him.

I am -almost- always confident in my self worth. I am always living my life- with or without my partners by my side, but hopefully with them!

I’m not defined by who I’m dating, so it doesn’t matter how important or unimportant I might be to them, but how important they are to ME. Sometimes, luckily, it goes both ways. Sometimes it matches up so perfectly it’s mind blowing. Sometimes we figure out a way to carve out a role with each other. But sometimes we do not.

There are people in your life that you, I pray, are lucky enough to one day meet.

People like him. It doesn’t matter the Role you hold with them. It doesn’t matter how Significant the Role. This person possesses the ability to make you feel incredible and special and valued, even within the short time you are able to spend with them. And within the limited context (no vacations, no regular date nights, but still whatever you’ve got with them is quality).

Oh, I know that sounds crazy. The girlfriend on the side feels special? But I didn’t see myself as the side piece, however others might have seen me, or, for that matter, still see me. I saw, and see, myself as one of his most special friends, among many. Someone who he trusts and confides in. Someone he trusts enough to be naked in front of– and I don’t mean just in bed.

And every single time I meet someone who reminds me of him, in this way, I take them under my wing and cling to them like my life depended on it. Because one day it might. I trust them with my life. And, truth be told, there aren’t many people like this. So if you meet one, please, hold on to them.

Always, I have myself and my life. That is where I find my happiness.

I think I’ve said enough for now.  

Just think about it, please.  

After all, how many people do you, or I, have the time and energy to be their most important person (or among their most important persons)?

Remember, above all, that you might not be Most important, but you are still Important!

(Note, there are many, many cases where each person grows to be just as important as anyone else in the relationship. Where everyone does, in fact, have unique roles. I may write on this later. For now, I want to acknowledge this kind of relationship, because it is so rarely talked about, and, in my experience, far more common!)