The Best Life Yet

I think I woke up still drunk. Whoops.

Last night, Oona and I went to Dustin's annual Christmas show at the bar where he used to have a residency. He has endless legendary stories from that place, having played there since '99, and it was my first time seeing him play there. It was an all-star cast of all the people he plays with at honky-tonk night, plus the people he used to be in a mildly famous band with last decade, plus random others, all performing Christmas songs.

I had not been out at a bar with Oona since I have no idea when, and it was super fun. We sat at a table with the other band members' girlfriends, and Oona hit it off with them. It was pretty cool to invite her into my "other life" for a night—all of the people I know through Dustin, etc.

Rider and Toby hung out for the couple of hours that Oona and I were gone. And then when we got back, we hung out with them way too late. Toby is still unemployed, and Oona is on vacation, so despite the fact that Rider and I are neither, we stayed up super late. #worthit

I am suuuuuuper useless and tired today, though. I may have to order lo mein delivery . . . .
 
Knowing I have three nights in a row with no Dustin overnights has gotten to be rough for me already, and it's not even night two yet. But with my Dustin nights being Monday, Wednesday, and Sunday this week, that is just how it must be. The little gig pop-ins help some, but they do not fully appease me. But I am well aware that three nights per week is like the "legal limit" of nights I'm able to have away from home unless it's Rider doing the planning that makes it shake out that way, or unless it's a super-special occasion of some kind.

It's making me think about kind of overarching concept stuff. Like . . .

I am having these conflicting feelings about whether or not I am inherently a jerk. I don't mean to be a jerk. That much is certain. I would like to be nice to the people I care about and make them happy. I want them to be happy.

But I also want what I want? And I don't think I ever go about "jerk-y" ways of trying to get what I want. I'm never knowingly manipulative or coercive. I'm never purposefully cruel. I'm generally willing to compromise, give ground, and strategize with people unless something is really, really important to me.

But I'm having these thoughts around what kinds of responsibilities do I bear to partners. I know I have a responsibility to keep agreements that I've made, or to renegotiate those agreements if they are no longer working for me. I know I have a responsibility to be honest and respectful. I know I have a responsibility to keep up my share of shared things, like bills, housework, pet care, etc.

But what, beyond that?

Do I have a responsibility to provide a certain level of company? Of affection? Of sexual interactions? What constitutes "neglect"? Am I guilty of it? Would I be guilty of it if I did something closer to what my heart desires at this time?

I have no plans to change anything at this time, but I am just thinking, thinking, thinking.

At what point do freedom and autonomy become assholery? Is it silly to ever promise anyone anything, knowing that everything is capable of changing? Is it more important to seek one's own authenticity and follow one's own heart, or to search for a way to try to ensure that everyone gets what they want to the degree that it is possible? What if those two things directly conflict? How selfish is bad-selfish? What are the ethical implications of any of the above?

I just feel like I have so many different forces warring within me. I want, at once, to be a solid and dependable person who makes other people happy. But the things that I want for myself sometimes seem to directly conflict with that.

Thinking on things like the possibility of living more monogamously eventually, because I don't really dig poly that much, I wonder whether having more structure and stricter boundaries within which to play might be good for me, because it simplifies things. But then, at the same time, I know that I also tend to chafe at constraints and, eventually, I always seem to find a way to shatter anything that I feel is holding me back. It's the story of my life.

I feel this dichotomy in myself of being a very generous and giving person who cares deeply about the happiness of others, but also being on a core level very, very selfish, where I just want what I want, all costs be damned, and other people can just make/keep their own selves happy if what I do have to give them is not up to their standards.

At the same time that I want to be dependable, I also don't want any adults to depend upon me, if that makes sense. Outside of my cut-and-dried responsibilities for my own adult shit, I want my participation in stuff to be optional, dependent only on my whim and my mood. That sounds totally nuts, right? But it's how I'm feeling right now. I want to go where I want to go, and do what I want to do, with whomever I want to do it, and I don't want to have to answer to anyone about it. But as hedonistic as that sounds, like I'm saying I want to be Queen Slut of the Universe, right now "whomever" is mostly only Dustin. And also, that's not really how relationships work, and I am currently in two of them.

Still not changing anything. Just thinking, thinking, thinking, and confessing to my blog all the ways in which I am a truly terrible person. Going through a rebellious stage again, I guess.
 
" Do I have a responsibility to provide a certain level of company? Of affection? Of sexual interactions? What constitutes "neglect"? Am I guilty of it? Would I be guilty of it if I did something closer to what my heart desires at this time?"

I think there are expectations that come with being part of a couple but these differ depending on the people involved. But in the general sense, people expect their partner to be a source of romantic and/or sexual companionship. So yes, I do think for most people, they would expect a certain level of company, sexual interactions and affection from their spouse. And someone who didn't feel that they have any obligation to provide it to their spouse would be seen in a negative light. Nobody has to do things they don't want to do, but I think at some point one must say most people would want to do those things with their spouse and the fact that someone doesn't may be indicative of incompatibility. Especially if the lack of said interaction is making one or both parties unhappy.

Only your husband can say if he feels you're neglecting your marriage and therefore, him. Why don't you ask him outright?
 
I suspect that the point that autonomy crosses over into assholery differs from person to person and life to life. It's something that you need to figure out with the people in your life.

Having said that, it sounds from reading your blog as though none of you (Reverie, Rider and Dustin) feel as if you are getting what you need or want right now. Rider wants a wife who desires him and can find some interest in the things he is interested in. Dustin wants more time with his new and exciting girlfriend and when he isn't with her, he wants her not to be with another man. You seem to want to be with Dustin more and more and to shift your relationship with Rider to one that is much more like a platonic friendship?

I don't think you're being nasty about it and I don't think that there is a clear answer to what's happening but it seems as though it cannot go on forever without all three of you suffering harm.

This seems like a good time in your life to figure this stuff out - especially in light of your concerns about having children.

I don't know anybody with children who doesn't at times - sometimes for years on end - describe their relationship with one or more of their children in the way you describe your relationship with Rider. They love the kid (or kids) but they don't love what they need to do to have the kid in their life. They don't want to spend their evenings supervising homework. They want to be able to go out and meet friends without needing elaborate plans. They want to be able to go and buy food without it turning into a tantrum from the kid. With kids, the parents just have to keep going with it. Their lives become absorbed with all of those annoying daily things that need to happen. Even when the kid is being an asshole to them and they get no day to day pleasure from the relationship, they still have to keep going with it.

I think it's pretty normal really.

It's also something to think about if you are the sort of person who chafes against expectations and finds it hard to maintain connections when things change in life.

Maybe now is a time to work through some of that?

Life is certainly offering you much learning right now.

IP
 
I will need to wait till later to address the very useful responses I got to my last post. For now, I just need to brain-dump.

So, tonight.

It was on the books for me to hang out with Rider and fan-club friends until it was time for me to catch Dustin's set at the bar near my apartment. Rider made me aware yesterday (news to me) that poly friends would also be there. OK, fine and dandy. It would be the first time I was meeting Annie, and there was to be a gaggle of people she knew there—a social situation I could blend into and feel all right about. I was fine.

Except, when I arrived at the bar (having gotten off work an hour late), the situation was not as I'd imagined. All the other poly friends had flaked. Rider's maybe-an-interest young coworker was also there. Constance and two other fan-club buddies were there, which was what I'd expected.

But shit got really weird for me really fast. First of all, Annie and young coworker (fuck it, I'll call her Melissa), who had met before, were clearly completely shithammered and flirting like mad. They were hanging all over each other and nuzzling faces and I really wanted to give both of them a chance but it felt so impossible when they admitted to me that neither knew that my home state was below the state above it. Melissa actually asked that I open my Google map to prove it, like I didn't live there for the first 17 years of my life. I can't even.

I was responsible for a vehicle, so I drank very, very minimally. I had far less than the recommended 1 drink per hour I was there. I mostly just licked salt off of my margarita glass and acted polite.

It was super cool hanging out with Constance. I love her. She's an amazing human being. Also cool was one of the dude fan-club friends. But as the night wore on, Melissa was hanging on him too, and eventually they were making out, and then she was making out with Annie, and then Annie and Rider were being super affectionate and, just, like, I'm sorry, but no.

I knew I was going to meet Annie. I was cool with that. I did not know I was going to meet Annie and Melissa at the same time and that they were going to be making out and creating a super sexual vibe and dragging "neutral" dude friends into it. Don't get me wrong, I am not sex negative and if that's what they want to do, have at it. I would never try to tell autonomous adults what to do with their bodies.

But that is just too much messy chaos for me. I am now somehow makeout-connected, in one night, to four of the six other people there. One of them is coworkers to another one. There are serious age gaps. I wasn't expecting any of it. Constance and the other fan-club friend and I ended up kind of banding together as a little raft against it all.

Like.

I totally remember feeling that same way before, like how cool it was that anything could be possible and anyone was makeout fair game and the more mouths involved, the merrier. But I was soooooo uncomfortable. Every cell in my body was screaming "WTF, get out of here!"

I don't want to be connected to fan-club dude friend via Melissa via Annie via Rider. I feel concerned that Annie might be trying to form an ill-advised triad between Rider and his young coworker, perhaps influencing him when he's said to me it's a bad idea for him to date her. I am soooooo not into a random night of supposed friends drinking just turning into a makeout free-for-all.

Dudes.

So I did the reasonable adult thing and removed myself from the situation. I reassured Rider a hundred times that he'd done nothing wrong (because he hadn't) and that it was all a "me thing" and I just needed to go home. And I went home. I fed the pets, and I got dressed up, and I met Dustin out for his show.

That was not a cake walk either.

Dustin ended up telling me that he thinks about breaking up with me daily, and when I voiced that I also do have doubts, he acted all incredulous like he never does anything wrong and it's all my situation to blame. And then he was back to loving me and being as sweet as ever. And we went on to have a wonderful evening after just a moment of me crying into my Chardonnay.

I just.

FML.
 
I'm sitting here at home, chilling on the couch with Rider and the cats passed out beside me. I made a large and delicious Christmas dinner. I've been very slowly sipping sangria. But I've had the strangest and most symbolic weekend ever, and I'm still trying to decide what to make of it. There are so many moving parts.

I'll begin kind of where I left off. Friday night. There was something that didn't make it into my post, but that seems relevant now. There's a ton of backstory, so I'm not sure how long this will all take me. I'll start with the chow mein.

So, Friday for lunch, I was a bit hungover. I ordered myself a big, greasy pile of seafood chow mein to get me back on track. I finished only half of it and stuck the rest in the fridge. I had to work late, despite it being the last day before my vacation. I was running super late for that whole bar crawl with Constance and Rider and Annie and company. By the time I left the office, I was hungry again, but I didn't want to take the time to stop for food, so I advantageously positioned the clamshell container of chow mein over the e-brake and decided to get sloppy.

I decided to grab noodles with my bare hands and tilt my head back, eyes still on the road, and dangle the noodles into my face. I did this the entire freeway portion of the ride. It was piggish and unrecommended, but it did fill my belly. Afterward, I desperately needed a napkin, so I felt around in the bag surrounding the clamshell. Before I found the napkin, I found a fortune cookie. I decided to eat it and then resume my napkin search.

I ate the cookie but was driving, so I couldn't read the fortune. I tucked it between my legs, telling myself that I'd read it after I parked. I started mulling on who writes fortune cookie fortunes, and thinking of how I've never seen (and don't imagine that they make) negative ones. The whole ploy is to be benign and vaguely complimentary.

I found my napkin and wiped up. Time passed. It took a long time to find free parking downtown. By the time I'd managed to get a space, I'd totally forgotten about the fortune between my legs, and I just got out of the car and hurried to the party without remembering to read it.

A few hours later, I returned to the car. I opened the door and was bemused to find the fortune sitting where I'd left it on my seat. "Reevaluate your plans for future success," it said. Huh, I thought. Well that is certainly kinda negative after all. Very odd that I'd just been thinking I'd never seen one like that. I stuck it in my pocket.

Fast forward to Sunday morning, all the way through Saturday. Stuff happened that day, including Rider being kind of a jerk and us making up, but I don't really wanna go into it. Sunday morning, Dustin and I had a plant class scheduled—foraging for wild edibles and medicinals.

He arrived at 9:15 a.m. on the dot, but he was very, very obviously far too intoxicated to have been driving. Given the hour, I surmised that he'd barely been to sleep, and that maybe he never did go to sleep the night before that. I was right. I offered to drive, and he happily obliged. The plant class passed mostly uneventfully. It was actually really awesome. I was glad to be doing it. We learned how to make soap from yucca leaves, and that mugwort is good for vivid and lucid dreams, and how to make starch from bamboo roots. Really cool stuff!

The class culminated with a picnic provided by the teacher of pre-made wild foods he'd brought: acorn "paté," pickled walnuts and yucca pods, a preserved seed spread with a lot of mustard seeds—all kinds of goodness. The beverage provided, the teacher had told us, was a home-brewed beer made with mugwort instead of hops for its bitterness. It was pretty good but a touch too bitter for my taste. As the picnic wound down and we headed back to the car, Dustin apologized to me.

"I'm sorry. I fucked up. I always want to be my best for you, but I just fucked up. My place is a disaster. I intended to spend yesterday before my gig prepping the apartment for the holiday and putting your present under the [fancy piñata left over from his Thursday gig] tree. But I never did any of that. The afterparty Friday that you were at . . . well, we went to two other after parties after than, and then Pete came over, and I don't remember any of it but we destroyed everything. And then I played my [Saturday night] show and I don't really know how, but I held it together, and then I woke up this morning in Pete's bed with him spooning me, and I think I only slept for an hour or two."

I felt uneasy, but I decided to remain agnostic for the car ride. I drove us back to his place. He apologized again before I came through the door. It was like . . . a milder version of . . . has anyone seen Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas? The scene where they come to after a bender of unknown duration, when there are dinosaur tails and ketchup everywhere? It was kind of like that.

Even though it had been only Dustin and Pete there, every piece of glassware in the house was dirty or broken and littered every table or cluttered the floor. The glass in Dustin's picture of his mom was smashed and the frame was ruined. Seashells littered the area around the television, upside-down toy cars from god knows where peppered the ground. Cocaine residue covered every flat surface, including the dining room table that is normally draped in a tablecloth. Said cloth had been unceremoniously yanked askew to make room for the drugs.

In the bedroom, the lamp was literally hanging in half because it was unscrewed in the center. The shade was on the floor, as was Dustin's old cell phone and an assortment of jackets. I noticed, strewn in a trail, tatters of the piñata Christmas tree, ending in just its trunk in a pile of guitars back in the living room. Dustin said he didn't know what had happened to the rest of it, but that he vaguely remembered it being at his Saturday night gig.

Dustin was very distressed. He couldn't remember anything. He didn't know what had happened to any of it, and he poured himself a drink and then spent about 20 minutes cataloging everything and making sure nothing of Derek's was damaged. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten, so I put together a cheese plate and poured myself a glass of port. I felt super disappointed and more than a little . . . like . . . holding my emotions in a safe place till I figured out what I felt.

But I saw how upset he was, and I felt for him. I decided nothing good would come of my scolding him in any way, and also, I had been on the waking end of such chaos before, so who am I to judge? I decided that if this was what Christmas was going to be, then I would make the most of it. I asked him if he wanted his present, and we exchanged gifts. I watched him very closely.

He was still really fucked up. He was not at all totally present. I don't even think he could track and remember a conversation more than five or ten minutes at a time. At one point, he asked me my middle name, which I know that he knows. It was the worst I've ever seen him, in a way, because he wasn't angry or rageful, he was just . . . lost.

I was prepared to be annoyed. I was prepared to want to leave. I was prepared to walk away, even. And, instead, I just had this other feeling. He'd stayed true to his word to not take anything out on me. Instead, he'd been taking everything out on himself. I felt tenderness, compassion, and a weird kind of love that I don't think I've felt before. It felt like the meaning of unconditional. Like, here was this person, at their self-inflicted and pitiful bottom, messed up and vacant and lost, and I could just see how he needed love more now than ever.

I found myself nibbling my cheese and looking at him and wondering why. Why this one? Everything in my logical mind is like this is a terrible idea, but I look at this one and I feel him and I just fucking love him. I feel a compassion and an understanding and a belonging. It's like. I've been in relationships before where someone was fucked up and I felt like I had to "save" them, etc. But that's not how this feels. I don't feel like I am to be his angel or his savior. I just feel like I love him unconditionally and whatever the fucked up shit that means, I won't walk away until he drives me there. And as long as he keeps being able to stop transgressing against me when I ask him to, then I don't have beef.

And I realized something that is probably actually fucked up. I've married two people, and I've never felt this "how dark can the darkness go and I'll still love you" feeling about either of them. I've said, out loud, "for better or worse," and before we even go from bad to worse, I'm bailing. I'm not sure why he's different—why this is different—but something about it is. I'm not sure if it will spell my own doom, even.

So I made the best of the night. Percy stopped by, obviously lonely, and I decided to cook dinner for all three of us. After a while, Dustin went to go lie down and catch up on some sleep, and Percy and I just hung out. That kid is crazier than a shithouse rat, but he's also super smart and super sweet. I woke Dustin up when dinner was ready, and we all ate and then Percy left and Dustin and I went to sleep.

Here's where shit gets really weird. I had this dream . . .

(continued . . . )
 
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( . . . continued from previous)

My dream was like . . . I will just have to tell it. It's forever long, and it's the craziest dream I've ever had, and I'm someone who is known for my crazy dreams. It was kind of like life lessons imparted through the bureaucracy of Hitchhiker's Guide but played out with a kind of guardian angel? Let me explain.

So it started out, I was in a huge room that was like a hi-rise office building floor, with all the big windows letting light in. And I had no idea where I was or what I was doing there, but there were all these racks of clothing that different people were trying on and taking off, and there were makeup artists ready to polish one's look, and there were these big, digital ads scrolling across the walls that were talking about something called "Prep" and "Prep Counselors."

I honestly thought I was at one of those sort of job fairs for the poor, or a weird "What Not to Wear" backstage event or what, so I kept asking people, "What's Prep?" but everyone I asked changed the subject or pretended like they didn't hear me. Testimonials flashed across the screen: "My Prep Counselor taught me how to kiss!" and "Prep changed my life!" and I suddenly thought it might be some kind of a cult thing, but I still had no idea. I decided to get in the spirit of the thing, and I tried on a bunch of silvery dresses hanging from the rack. None fit me, so I shrugged and found something more low-key that worked and fit my overall look more.

Just after that, this dude walked up to me and said, "OK, it's your turn!" and turned and walked away. He was a tall, handsome black dude, very sharply put together. I followed him, thinking I'd finally learn what to do. "No," he said, "You have to go over there to that door." And he pointed to a door in a semi-circle wall, then kept going his direction.

I walked over to the door, and it was like part revolving doorway and part glass elevator. When I got out of there, I couldn't tell which direction I'd gone other than vaguely "up." What I saw upon stepping out was a very tonily appointed and very high-tech room with machines I'd never seen before, and people were parked at them and consulting them. I'd thought the dude would be meeting me up there, but after a while, he never arrived, so I walked past all the rich-people looking stuff to an area that kind of looked like bank teller windows, but fancier.

"Excuse me," I said. "Do you know where I'm supposed to go?" The girl on the other side of the window appraised me.

"You need a ticket?" she asked.

"Um, I guess so," I replied. And she gave me one. It said a number and then the letter K. And she waved me along. And I walked seemingly forever down this curving hallway, passing labels of A and B and C, and finally, because it seemed like there had to be an easier way, I stopped and asked another window chick.

"Can you tell me where to go?" I asked, sliding my ticket under the glass.

"Ohhhh," she said, "You're down on the next floor. There's an elevator over there" and pointed.

So I got into the elevator, and when it opened, I noticed it felt like I'd traveled back in time. Everything was older, looked shabbier and more poorly maintained. I felt less intimidated than I had in fancy-futuristic-rich-people-land, but I was still super confused and didn't know where I was going or even why I was there.

These windows weren't even labeled. I had to just walk around from place to place and try to look for a number/letter, but there was none to be had. I was so convinced that I was missing something, that it was my mistake, that I was timid even to ask. Crazy-looking characters kept rolling by: giants with revolving faces, people in plain white masks, someone regular-sized but proportioned like a little person, like I was in a Betelgeuse waiting room or something. I would take a quick glance and then look away, ashamed for staring.

Finally, I worked up the courage to ask a person where I was supposed to go, and she took my ticket and swiped it and said, "Oh, this is the third time you've had to ask. I'm sorry, but you're not going to get seen until tomorrow. Please proceed to the floor below. The elevator is over there."

And I felt super disappointed, but I got on the elevator and rode it down one more floor. That floor contained even more dilapidated conditions. Many of the booths weren't even manned except by outdated, barely working machines. There were long lines of hospital-waiting-room-like chairs, occupied by persons of seemingly failing health. I still didn't know where I was supposed to go. I passed one line of chairs, looking noticeably stressed out, and an older, weary-looking man smiled kindly at me and said, "Isn't it the worst when we have to spend Christmas here? Did they just give you another day to wait? I had to do two weeks one time. It's the worst!"

And I my eyes started to fill with tears, not just at the prospect of being there another day (or even two weeks) but that that particular man had been there so many times that he knew the hellish drill, and he still had the empathy to recognize my distress and reach out to me.

"Thank you," I all but whispered, a single tear falling.

I walked all the way down to the end of the hall, and there was a button that looked like maybe I should press it. And so I did, and alarms started going off, and all of a sudden staff was present again, and they were like, "Why would you press the emergency button when you're not in danger? You interrupted all of our operations. That's at least a two-day penalty."

And they didn't even direct me to any elevators. They hustled me, one on each side, through what felt like a series of chambers. In each one, I experienced vivid hallucinations. One was that I was having sex with Dustin, but then he evaporated. One was that the giant with the many faces tried to grab my hand and, looking at him, I was so freaked out that I pulled away. One was that I'd soiled the dress I'd been wearing, the one pulled from the rack, and had nothing to replace it with. Finally, I "woke" on a bench, in a puddle of my own drool, like I'd been just sleeping and dreaming. I heard my number called and hustled out of there.

When I arrived at where I'd heard my number, a bored looking clerk met me and told me to "enter my information," but looking at the touchscreen, it wasn't obvious what to do. Terrified at fucking up and incurring further penalties, I asked her to clarify, and she said just follow the instructions. Out of frustration, I started loudly crying.

Suddenly, the man, my dapper guide, came striding down the corridor. "What's wrong?" he asked.

(continued . . .)
 
( . . . continued from previous)

"I just have no idea what I'm doing!" I wailed, at this point in complete lack of self control mode, fed up and mystified and exhausted, emotionally and otherwise.

He smiled benignly and said, "No one does. But everyone's looking for someone to tell them what to do. Here, I'll tell you what to do: look at that screen and push any button on it. The only way it's the wrong button is if it's the button that you don't want to push. Any answer is right, as long as it's your answer."

And he walked away again. I looked at the screen. The buttons were moving. Sometimes they said simple regular touchscreen-button things like "yes" and "no" and sometimes they had words or numbers, but none of them jumped out at me.

People started to approach me. One dude stood way too close to me and was trying to horn in on my turn, and I told him he was standing too close and to go stand over there. Someone tried to steal my purse, but I grabbed it back and told them to fuck off. Someone approached with a chalkboard sandwich board, the type you see outside of bars, and it had a listing of cocktails on it.

"Need a drink to help you decide?" he asked.

"FUCK NO!" I yelled, emphatically, still emotional from before. "I need to get out of here and I need all my wits about me to solve this."

"Is that so?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow in a way that was at once sarcastic, surprised, and quizzical. He took the sign and walked away.

I kept watching the digital buttons. The chick in the window was shuffling papers through the infinity it seemed to take me to make my choice. The dapper guide was standing at some distance behind her, having made his way behind the glass wall. The drink-slinger was also back there, pacing with his board, hoping to tempt me. I tuned them all out and concentrated. Finally I saw a button with a little heart on it. Without hesitation, I knew that was the one, and I pressed it immediately. The drink-slinger scurried off, and the guide said, "It's always the heart with you, isn't it?" in an amused and chuckling tone.

He audibly whispered to the clerk girl that he'd found a place in line for me on a higher level since I'd made it through the meltdown, and he escorted me upstairs somewhere.

This was one of the less-hellish but still rather dilapidated levels. My name was called, and there was a girl in a window who took my ticket and said she'd grab my file. She came back with a tattered, battered manila folder with some papers stapled inside, as well as some loose ones, a stack rather haphazard. "Wow, you've really got a mess here!" she said, shuffling and reshuffling.

She laid the folder open to a page that appeared to be someone else's categorizations and listing of my historical life plans. "College, check," "Grad school, check," . . . "One marriage crossed off, another marriage listed, but that's why we're here, am I right?"

I stammered, stunned, feeling like I was in some weird bureaucracy of my own brain. "Well, I, I mean..."

"You know you're supposed to stay married?" she asked me.

Suddenly, I remembered the guide and the button. Wait a minute. "I'm supposed to do what I want to do!" I replied.

"Well, yeah," she said, "but you're supposed to WANT TO. You went wrong somewhere if you didn't." And she put some kind of stamp on my page and stuffed the whole folder into a chute and here I was feeling indignant and I said, "You can't tell me what to want."

And my guide walked up behind me and said, "Hey, more good news!" I can take you up even farther than I'd thought. There's someone up there who has something to show you.

And he pointed me to an elevator, which I walked through alone, and I was suddenly back on to one of the "respectable" looking floors. Things were clean, stuff was zen. It was more like a massage studio with plants and peaceful scents than a hospital or a DMV. A young, pretty nurse-looking person sat me down with a powerpoint projected on the wall, and she started explaining pros and cons of parenthood to me.

"It can happen at 14, and it can happen at 44. It can ruin you or be the best thing that ever happened to you. No one can guarantee what it will be. You get that, right? But at best, you'll be tired and rumpled and poorer . . . " she explained, like she was laying out the terms of a loan. The last thing I remember seeing was a slide of an older-looking version of myself, like myself merged with my mom at my age, wearing a bathrobe and sitting on the edge of a twin bed looking tired.

And then I woke up.

And I laid there for a long time. And, holy shit, mugwort?
 
I woke up early this morning with a sudden and vicious cold. I guess that's what I got for Christmas this year. :( Facebook indicates that a bunch of my friends in far-flung corners of the country are all sick right now too, so I guess there's something going all around.

Luckily, I have today off, so I am spending it covered in blankets and cats, tinkering with learning a foreign language online. Rider is working from home and made me spiced coffee. I'm not really looking forward to boarding a plane tomorrow anymore. It's a bummer that this trip that has been planned for months is going to be marred by illness.

I hope everyone here who celebrates had a wonderful holiday and stays warm and well!
 
Dustin is 40 years old. He is far too old to be indulging in this type of behavior. And it's not just once in a blue moon.

No, it's true. He's really kind of gone off the deep end the past couple of weeks, basically since he got back from his vacation. I'm not really sure what to make of it, but I know he needs some kind of help. I'm still working on figuring out what, if any, my role in that should be. I've thought about talking to Derek and Eve when they're back from vacation, because I don't think they know the half of it. I know he needs people who care for him, and I care for him, so I'm not going to abandon him as long as he's not being destructive to me.

He knows, himself, that he has been fucking up and can't go on like that. I'm not sure what will happen next, but I'm trying to just be loving and watchful and guard my own boundaries right now while he sorts his shit. Which he says he wants to do. I can't make him do anything though. I can be supportive is about all.
 
My past week has been nuts. Lots of ups and downs—high highs and low lows. My trips with Dustin were romantic and beautiful and terrible. I would say that we consumed most of the booze in New Orleans, had all the sex possible, and experienced such a crazy-intense level of love and whimsy that it remains unmatched ever. It's nearly impossible to describe the sheer beauty of 95% of my time with him. It's like . . .

PERFECTION PERFECTION PERFECTION PERFECTION PERFECTION PERFECTION PERFECTION PERFECTION PERFECTION PERFECTION PERFECTION PERFECTION PERFECTION PERFECTION DESTRUCTION PERFECTION PERFECTION PERFECTION PERFECTION PERFECTION PERFECTION PERFECTION PERFECTION PERFECTION PERFECTION PERFECTION PERFECTION PERFECTION PERFECTION PERFECTION PERFECTION PERFECTION PERFECTION PERFECTION PERFECTION PERFECTION PERFECTION PERFECTION PERFECTION PERFECTION PERFECTION

. . . and I still cannot figure out how to pull that destruction weed from the perfection garden. But the roses smell so nice.

NYE at Perry's was kind of a clusterfuck. Almost no one showed up to his party (even Oona and Toby and Mel and Tina bailed) so it was just me and Rider, Joel and Carrie, and like ten of the most awkward collection of loose ends. I fulfilled my promise to Dustin to pop over and see him for an hour. He was at Pete's, and it was a Lyft-in-traffic nightmare getting over there. By the time I got back to Perry's, Perry and his chick had gone to sleep and Rider desperately wanted to go home.

I am on day two of my stopping drinking for an indeterminate amount of time, which I had decided to do after the Crazy Dream but had decided to wait till after NYE. I am still alive, is about all I can say about that. Coming off of that crazy of a stretch of days partying, I always feel kinda like I might die. More than 24 hours in and I am still shaking like a leaf, randomly gagging out of nowhere, and feel rather like the space between my ears is a hollow void. I am back at work but want my bed more than anything in the world. The first night or two of sleep in a situation like this is always plagued with nightmares, sleep-sweats, and waking to terrible anxiety, and last night was no different. I'm also still recovering from last week's cold.

Rider expressed his deep disappointment at my stopping, as he always does. He never makes it easy on me. He's a great many wonderful things, and he takes very good care of me in many ways, but he always seems to have a personal investment in having me as a party buddy. Crawling out of the abyss yesterday morning to have to argue with him about not wanting whiskey in my coffee on our day off together was one of the saddest things. In the end, he brought me coffee with plain eggnog in it, and we watched some TV and he nursed me through some borderline-panic-attack-type anxiety.

Later, I went to Dustin's, and he was ostensibly more supportive overall, though he did keep trying to get me to at least taper with some hard cider rather than be a shaky cold-turkey mess. He kept wondering aloud if I were mad at him because I was so quiet and out of it, and kept wanting reassurance that I still want him and am open to making life plans with him. "Yes," I told him, "but we need to get our collective shit together. Can we do that?"

"I'll do anything for you," he said.

He slowly nursed me back to health, returning the favor for the times I've done that for him. He surprised me with a big, fat seed catalog so we could look at plants together, and made me a hot tea, and we cuddled up on the couch looking at the catalog. I started to feel better for a while. He's so knowledgeable about fruits and vegetables, and it was soothing just to flip through and look at the pictures and listen to him talk about it all.

Then he wanted to watch a movie and try out our new popcorn maker. He chose Midnight in Paris, which I'd never seen. He has a thing for Woody Allen movies and said he thought I'd like it because of all the art and literature references. I was too brain dead to care at first what he picked, but as the opening scenes rolled, I started to feel despair in the pit of my stomach. I hadn't seen imagery of Paris since Rider and I were there on our honeymoon, and I felt this insane cognitive dissonance of seeing it all while cuddled up with Dustin. I almost asked him to turn it off but decided to power through and not trouble Dustin with the fact that Rider was on my mind.

As the movie wore on [spoilers], themes present in it made me start to feel really weird. Basically, one major theme is how an engaged couple doesn't like any of the same things and are obviously not right for each other, and their attention keeps getting diverted from each other by people with closer interests.

And I was kind of crumbling inside because I thought of how close Rider and I had come to breaking up shortly before our wedding. And how I dragged my feet and put off planning till the last possible minute. And how the entire time we were on our honeymoon, Rider was disappointed that we weren't having more sex. And how we had a drunken meltdown fight the first night, in Dublin, over poly-possible things.

And how I never did get around to finishing my posts here on this forum telling the story of the wedding and the honeymoon. And I never posted an album of wedding pics on social media. And how we had so much fun on our honeymoon but there was only ONE moment where I felt like "this is so romantic"—the rest of it was fun and adventure and tasty and I loved it, but it didn't feel like what I thought a honeymoon should feel like, and I never told anyone that, not even this blog. Right after we got back, I promised to post more of the story, but I instead moved on to chattering about Jasper again and how Rider wanted to find someone else to sleep with too.

It's like.

I wanted that thing with Rider for so long, but right before it happened, something fractured in me. And I kept going with it because I thought it would be OK, because we'd always been OK, so we'd always be OK.

My meeting Dustin was a wake-up call or a catalyst of some kind, but he's really only an ingredient in the mix. This all started before I knew he existed, but he's definitely been a contributing factor.

All this stuff, I cannot get it out of my head. It's the only thing on my mind most of the time. Every time I try to talk to Rider about what to do re: counseling, he says it's not the right time to talk about it, and that he's afraid that a counselor will just tell us that we need to break up. And yet, going on without any kind of outside help does not seem to be working.

I expect to have a bit of money with next week's paycheck, now that the holidays and travel expenses are over, and I want to bring the counseling thing back up to Rider and plan for it, but I know he didn't sleep well last night and so he's likely just going to shoot me down if I try to bring it back up again.

I think I will bide my time until Thursday or so, when I have four nights at home. Dustin is leaving town for four days with Pete to attend a memorial service for a friend of theirs who disappeared a couple years back. I guess the family is giving up hope and setting up closure.

It is just the hardest thing not to talk about stuff when it's all I have on my mind. It's hard to take processing breaks and just be in each other's company, though it always helps. And I get it, too, because I'm on the receiving end of that with Dustin.

These days it seems to come up twice an hour how hard the situation has gotten for Dustin. Today is the very day that marks six months of us being together. I honestly think that at this point, he's just gritting his teeth and waiting to see if things with Rider will end (because I haven't given him much details, but he knows things are rocky). I think he went from merely interested in me and poly-curious/poly-hopeful to madly in love with me and jealous (which destroyed all poly-hopefulness) and is now just doing some kind of endurance test to see what will happen. He just wants to be loved and to be reassured that the future he wants has a chance of being at least possible, and that is the thread that keeps him going.

And just like Rider doesn't want to hear all the time from me about counseling or my feelings or what we should do, I don't want to hear all the time from Dustin about how miserable he is every time we're not together. We need to all just breathe and learn to let it be, I guess, for now.

So. Not much has changed. Except I am super sober as I consider it all today.
 
I think you should find a counselor and go, with or without Rider. It might be better for you without. Your brain really wants you to get some help sorting this all out.

Leetah
 
I agree that you should go to counseling alone, if need be.

Now, Dustin is wanting to hold on to any chance of possibly being in a mono relationship with you. What is HE doing to facilitate that, other than making you feel guilty? To me, the phrase "madly in love," isn't necessarily a healthy thing.

I'm not sure if you are excusing Dustin's poor behavior on the fact that you are putting him through a difficult situation (ie - poly). He CHOSE to be with you, anyway. If he made the wrong decision, he should own it. Acting out by alcohol and narcotics abuse is NOT YOUR FAULT. I know you keep saying you know that, but I think you believe deep down that this situation is the reason why he's behaving this way. It's just an excuse.

If you were just thinking of riding off into the sunset with Dustin, I would say have at it. You are a big girl. However, the dreams of having children is worrisome. He has to be sober for a significant period of time before you even consider having children with him. Sure, he can be on "good" behavior for a while, but how long will that last, and how long will it take for him to become resentful?
 
I think you should find a counselor and go, with or without Rider. It might be better for you without. Your brain really wants you to get some help sorting this all out.

Leetah

I agree that you should go to counseling alone, if need be.

Yeah, I've been looking at some online counseling too—something I could do on my own. I'm not sure I could get away from work during business hours enough to do both (with and without Rider), and I did promise him we'd try it, if he will only get around to doing it with me. But I definitely want some help sorting my head.

Now, Dustin is wanting to hold on to any chance of possibly being in a mono relationship with you. What is HE doing to facilitate that, other than making you feel guilty?

I'm actually not sure that I understand the question, the "facilitate" part. I'm not sure what steps he can take before it actually were to happen. Do you mean to ask in what ways is he a good enough partner that I'd consider it? For actually facilitating mono-ness, he's offered to be a landing pad for me if I need a free place to live if one arm of the V ends, but I'm not ready to take that step with him yet.

I'm not sure if you are excusing Dustin's poor behavior on the fact that you are putting him through a difficult situation (ie - poly).

I don't really feel that I'm excusing it at all. I find the poor parts of his behavior off-putting and unsustainable in the long term, and I let him know this whenever it comes up. I don't think it's to the point where I need to break up with him yet, but I can easily see a future in which it may be. I do believe that he's stressed out by the situation and has terrible choices in coping mechanisms, but I don't think that it's my fault—his choices, both in being in the relationship and having unhealthy ways of coping with stress, are his alone.

I do feel guilty sometimes about the effects of the situation on both of them, simply because I am the one with whom they are both in flux, and both love me, and both see me as being the one in control of the situation.


However, the dreams of having children is worrisome. He has to be sober for a significant period of time before you even consider having children with him. Sure, he can be on "good" behavior for a while, but how long will that last, and how long will it take for him to become resentful?

Yeah, I'm not even prepared to cohabitate with him instantly, much less start breeding. I've told him that we need to (both) demonstrably get our shit together before we can move forward with any planning for any big step. This is still (at six months) a very new relationship. No carts before horses here.
 
I woke this morning with anxiety at 4:15 a.m. and was not able to get back to sleep till after 6:00. This left me a lot of time for thinking. Part of what I decided during that thinking was to disable my Facebook for a while as part of my New Year's overhaul.

I barely ever post there anymore because it's such a hassle to deal with my two sets of settings so as not to bug Dustin with Rider things or to bug Rider's family with Dustin things. And yet, I still was spending way too much time idly scrolling through it, seeing crap I don't care about. I decided instead to free that time up for writing and learning stuff indoors and, when I'm out and about, just observing my surroundings and being in the moment.

So far, it feels weird.

Rider was also up super early with anxiety. I felt him wake up at about 5:30 or quarter to six, and I cuddled up to him, stroking his hair. Neither of us said a word, but he started snoring again eventually. And then I fell asleep too. Even if I am not feeling romance per se for him, it is nice to have the simple mammalian comfort of a cuddle. I think it's good for the soul.

As for my own anxiety, I had kind of a perhaps unfounded fear or paranoia today that Dustin might break up with me tonight when I go to see him. Contributing factors: he didn't tell me he loved me when he said goodnight last night, and our long-planned trip is over, and he's leaving town for four days tomorrow. It seemed like if he were going to do it, it'd be a logical time. I know he's gone through moments of intense unhappiness lately.

But he seems pretty normal over text today, so I was probably just being paranoid.

Rider is having Annie over again tonight. I think they've been having a weekly overnight or two, but I haven't been keeping much track other than to remind him to clean up beforehand. I helped him do some chores last night despite not feeling that well.

I still don't really want anything to do with most of Rider's other friends when they are all at one event after that other Friday night where I felt really uncomfortable. There was some big out-to-dinner thing New Year's Day that one of the fan-club friends organizes every year, and since those guys have become friends with the poly friends via Rider, even if I hadn't been busy and sickly, I wouldn't have gone.

I'm not opposed to hanging out with any of them in smaller groups, say, just the fan-club friends, or on a double date with Rider and Annie and her partner. I just was super not into the whole free-for-all atmosphere of the last event. Mostly, though, it doesn't matter much because Rider tends to go and do friend things on my Dustin days and leaves my other days just us. It was important to him that I meet Annie, and so I did, but I don't feel required to go very far above or beyone that. Which is good.
 
There are therapists with evening hours. If their website doesn't say, you can message them to find out.

Leetah
 
This morning begins a nearly five-day stretch of not seeing Dustin because he has to go to that memorial thing for his friend. He flies out with Pete today, then there is a memorial concert they are playing tomorrow, a different concert in a nearby town on Saturday, and then the actual service is Sunday. And then they fly back Sunday, only to have a couple hours of downtime before Dustin has to do the honky-tonk. So I will not be seeing him until Monday after work.

He was seriously dreading getting on a plane again. Since the beginning of November, he's been to see his family in his hometown for a week, then his family trip to the Caribbean, then our trip to New Orleans, and now this. Plus his desert gig last weekend, which was at least a road trip. All yesterday, he was complaining about being burnt out and saying he didn't want to go.

I am curious to see what kind of shape he will be in when I finally see him. Lately, Mondays have not been our best days, and the more time he spends with Pete on the days between my seeing him, the worse off he tends to be. I can easily see him getting into the mindset of just "doing what he has to do to get through" this last stretch of brutal busy-ness. If he's really bad off, I will still hang out with him, but I think that I will tell him I'm skipping future Mondays. I'd rather have our nights together be Wednesday, Thursday, and one weekend day.

Last night, however, was a great night with him, even though it was super lazy. I came over right after work, and Derek and Eve were back from their trip. It was good to see them again. I went into Dustin's room and pounced on him. I guess because of my previous anxiety, I was super, super happy to see him. It felt like it had been a year, but it had only been like a day and a half. We giggled and cuddled and kissed for a while.

He gave me the presents that his family had sent home with the others: a plant book and a kitchen towel with a cat on it from his mom, and a little bath set from his sister. I was very touched by this. Other than my own mom and the boys, no one else had gotten me anything—not my siblings, not Rider's family, not any of my friends. Even my mom's present to me was pointedly addressed to me AND Rider. I don't require presents, but man, it was nice to have been thought of. When I said that, he smiled and said they really like me.

Eve was cooking dinner and offered us some. Dustin and I shared a small bowl as sort of an appetizer to our own meal. I had plans to steam shrimp with Old Bay, but then at some point in the conversation, Dustin had mentioned rice, grits, and quinoa, and all I could think of was shrimp and grits, my favorite meal from when I lived in the south. So we walked to the store and got stuff for that instead. Dustin said it was literally the best meal he's ever had.

After dinner, we just lazed about in the living room, watching a documentary series with Derek and Eve. When the second episode was over, Dustin and I retired to his room and had insanely amazing (though incredibly bloody) sex. I'd actually been too sick for sex the last time I'd seen him, so I was super horny, a rarity for me. I came twice in the space of just a couple minutes. I swear, he is just the best and most passionate kisser I have ever encountered, and it turns me on sooooo much. Then we had to take a shower because we were both totally covered in blood. I have never been so happy for the black sex towel in my life.

And then we got into bed and cuddled and read books together, our legs all tangled up and playing footsie, our arms linked into each other, each holding our book. I've been reading a book on the history of English that he lent me, and he's been reading Dubliners.

Everything about the night was as perfect as could be, other than my stupid health. I cannot seem to get rid of this cough, and it actually woke me up in the early hours of the morning, forcing me to sleep the last couple hours half-sitting. I'm also fighting the beginnings of another UTI, which seems to happen when I get too dehydrated from getting drunk in the desert. Dustin bought me cranberry juice and made sure I stayed on top of my water intake.

My whole not-drinking thing is going well. I have not missed it once yet. I took a tiny sip of a raspberry cider that Dustin had last night, just to see what it tasted like, but it was only enough to wet my lips and catch the flavor.

The no-Facebook thing is going well, too. But I've definitely reached for it out of habit a surprising number of times. I feel like my mental state is less distracted and fragmented, like I'm more present in the moment. Used to be that even at Dustin's, where I tend to put my phone down in the other room and stay present with him, whenever I'd go into the room it was in, I'd check it for a second. It was pretty cool last night to check my phone only for the time and to make sure I didn't have urgent texts from anyone.

--- BREAKING NEWS ---

Ugh, ugh, ugh.

Rider just confessed to me that he's been talking about "our stuff" with Annie. It came out because I told him I wanted to put some time on the schedule this weekend to plan our counseling, and he told me that Annie had recommended someone to him, and I was like, wait, what? How can I not get him to talk to me about our counseling, and somehow he's talking to her about it?

I am so pissed at him right now that I am shaking and had to tell him I'll talk to him later.

As close as I am to Dustin, I wouldn't imagine sharing that personal information about my other relationship with him. I share with him my own internal struggles about where I want my life to go, because that's "me stuff," and I tell him sometimes if my mood is off that it's because I've been arguing at home or that things are going rocky right now, just so he doesn't think it's him who is upsetting me, but I don't go into detail about my marital problems with my other partner.

Rider and I had a conversation a long time ago where we agreed that we would keep "us stuff" private from other partners. When I just called him on this, he admitted that he knew that and apologized, but said Annie had opened up to him about some things, and so he'd opened up back. And he said, "God knows I could use the support right now." Um, what happened to looking for a friend confidant like you said you were going to do last year when things were rough? Just because he didn't find one and gave up doesn't mean he gets to violate my trust like this.

I've been so super chill about her coming over and sleeping in our bed, but it kills me to think she is lying there in my spot listening to my relationship problems. That should be me he's talking to about that stuff! Or at least a friend or therapist or even an online place like this. Not his other partners. I feel so betrayed right now. :(
 
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The storm has blown over. I was so very angry with him that I had to walk away from the conversation for a few minutes. And then I tried to come back to it, but it turned out I was still too pissed. So I gave it like another half-hour till I felt calm, and came back again.

Obviously, I am still not happy about what he did. But he's promised not to do it again, and I have empathized with why he did it in the first place, and we had a productive conversation.

I really have no other choice than to forgive him and move past it. It's been years since the last time he's made this mistake. I just have to trust that this earful is enough to remind him not to make it again.
 
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