Wr1tt3n0ne

Bunches and bunches
2022-12-12 12:16:28 (UTC)

Back Into My Own

I've been on hiatus seeing, but not overly involving myself, read that not having sex with, Mr. Curved Line. After all the mess he's created in his life and mine, we needed to know what, if anything, was salvageable. It has been nearly three years of a life redefining relationship, more astronomical, unthought of highs peppered with grey, craven lows. With his impending divorce, I found hope that we could have something more substantial then the couple of nights a week we normally were allotted. I find myself often as a party with quite a bit more imagination in my relationship structures then whoever the other party is. My mind eagerly moves along creative, socially unusual pathways, seriously considering circuitous ways towards relationship goals equally valid and beckoning. It was such an issue with so very many partners over my dating life that I issued commitment statements along with disclaimers about it. Fidelity, and my wispy notions of it, playing a sizable role.

Morally, I don't give a fig about sexual fidelity, sex is mechanical, chemical and so novelty has a real place as does, basal attraction. I admire relationships where exploration is valued over staid, faithfulness. I engaged with plenty of run of the mill monogamous relationships, but inside my head, the timer ticked away. Monogamy is fine, good even, for a time and then it is a cage and I will try each bar looking for the door. I have left many an otherwise satisfying relationship because my timer rang and I couldn't stand the thought of missing my life trapped in someone else's. My feelings of doors closing are as real to me as the kisses of new commitment and I take them as seriously.

With Mr. Curved Line wanting to reestablish a sexual relationship with his wife after a year of her rejection of him sexually with only a sad, unsatisfying romp in the hay that he quickly regretted, in order to "...give her a chance to avoid divorce," I found myself championing sexual fidelity for once. For him where his penis leads, his heart follows and I strenuously object to romantic infidelity, as has ALWAYS been my custom. In one's heart, I reign supreme and alone, period, exclamation point. On that I am stringently orthodox. Now, dear readers, you can see my paradox in all it's glory. Sex is just sex, have it safely with whomever, but love is mine and I am a jealous lover. We, as people, all must embody a conundrum of such a paradox. Human nature, I suppose, and this one is mine.

I would, could and might yet adapt to virtually any other wonky twist of relationship sorcery, but my bridge too far is certainly any other love who is meant to rule anywhere near my station. Have affection, but understand that is precisely the alpha and omega of the situation, nothing more is possible with me. Love, in it's other forms, familial and whatnot, troubles me not a whit, but love, impassioned and ardent, forming the basis of a life together as one, well, there's just me then. So I find myself having to navigate what I and the people I sleep with unprotected will tolerate, my moral convictions on the subject of many deep romantic loves, and Mr. Curved Line's willy-nilly, new convictions about his relationships all being fully rendered. In truth I have little use for his sad marriage, it often caused me trouble in that his wife was fundamentally opposed to keeping down the fort at all and lacked any boundaries on her interpersonal relationships. So much so, that I often yelled at her to "get some boundaries" only half in jest. And I was elated when he called off his sex life with her formally. Functionally it had been off for already more than a year, but knowing for certain that I would not have to worry, it thrilled me and opened up new expansion possibilities for us both in our relationship. So when he decided with only her input that she would get another chance, I was livid. How many times must one throw away their opportunities before it is reasonable to withdraw them? I say well within a year. Personally I would go months only under immoderate circumstances, like death, birth, those types of soul reorienting moments, not under any lesser circumstances. Rejection being the antithesis of relationship, I find it impossible to reconcile any substantial time of rejection with any wish for the relationship to continue. Furthermore his wife was fine with rejecting him completely sexually for a year and only balked at being informed he didn't want to f*ck her. That smacks of control issues, not love, to me.

He suffers acutely from being a doormat to her in nearly every possible way, our relationship only being possible because she forced him into polyamory by threatening cheating. Which is why I am so fierce in my loyalty to him and my elevating love, I see his prior life and feel that he deserves better and I intend to deliver it, if he'll let me. Still, I have to live with myself and I am no one's prostrating b*tch, so now it's war and I have never lost anyone I truly loved. I hate to war, it's vandalism to your soul, the attendant costs are so unreasonable and the victories can be hollow. However, I love him in way unknown to me in my life and that is worth a bloody toll. I see the glimmers of the man within and the misery of his current life, and being a strong woman, I can liberate him. Perhaps he will be with me afterwards, perhaps not, but freedom is a worthy goal for all humanity. And it is frankly my character to set free my loves regardless of whether they return to a life with me.




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