We’re getting heartbroken anyway, maybe it’s worth a try to test different ways?
When I moved to the big city for my studies at 17 years old, I sorely missed the community we had created with my friends from the village. We weren’t formally living together, but practically we were. Since middle school, the four of us had been braiding the strands of our lives together. My closest friend, Jamie, even had a spare key to my house. Jamie was so ubiquitous to our lives that my parents had found the idea logical. Strangely, in hindsight, sex was never involved between us. Some of us had some experiences, but nothing lasting. Even the urge for sexual release wasn’t strong enough to break the chemical bonds holding our community together. But life and college were.
I met my partner during my sophomore year, and we were married by the end of our senior years. Fast-forward nine years during which I found myself cheating, being cheated on, heartbroken (twice), and finally divorced and single. It was hard. After the divorce, my desperate need for human contact was tantamount to my anxiety of losing this new independence.
Polyamory entered my life through the workplace at a colleague’s farewell drink. When the time comes for their speech, people often get emotional and childlike honest at these parties. As if all this time spent telling half-truths, finding arrangements and negotiating, was finally too much for them. They need to be, at least once on the job, authentic and sincere. And so did my colleague. The speech included a word or two for each of the attendees. For me, it was: “ I thoroughly enjoyed working on this last project with you; I would have loved to develop the concept further and to know what it’s like to be your long term partner. “ There was a group giggle at this ambiguity, and then the speech went on, leaving me with more feelings than I expected.
I stayed later than I usually do at these gatherings, waiting to be alone with my ex-colleague, growing impatient. We hooked up. My ex-colleague was in an open relationship; I liked the idea and wanted the experience. It didn’t work out in the end. The three of us met together a few times, nothing sexual, but I couldn’t find my rhythm with the third edge of our triangle. I was longing for openness and tolerance and met only with judgment and power play.
Heartbroken again, I went my way. Two years ago, I got lucky. After a second divorce, Jamie reached out to me, and we got back in touch, figuratively and literally. We didn’t expect it, but as our bonds resolidified, the sensual and sexual dimensions quietly entered our relationship. We discussed the matter at length, and we’re ready to test and learn some more. We want to create a new version of the community of our youth.
Maybe we won’t get heartbroken this time?
