NewPolyGuy66
New member
Some days are easier than others in the world of polyamory. Some days, in our open triad, we are all perfectly fine with the others getting out there and getting a little sumthin sumthin. We even joke and kid and share the weiner pics with each other, and say, "Yeah baby, go get that."
And we are all genuinely happy for the other guy. "What ya hunting now, baby?" All pretty damn amazing to be able to share all of this with these guys. We have embraced compersion.
And then, and then, there are the select moments, because it really isn't days anymore, or even time that feels like an eternity, that we sit in discomfort in the pits of our stomachs as they tumble and growl. We feel almost nauseated. Brains work overtime, because certainly a sexy replacement for me or the other guy by some complete stranger with better and bigger parts, or a furrier chest must be happening, I just know it.
And we still sit in the discomfort, maybe sweat a few minutes more, like it's 3 billion degrees. For me, I have found solace in any number of the now prominent polyamory books on my table, or loaded on my phone. I refuse to ask our other guy, "So, have ya heard from him?" Fuck that. That's game playing and kniving and beneath us. We trust him; we're happy for him. He's out there (to paraphrase an awesome mod on here) bangin' dicks.
"Yup, good job, baby." And we will hear all about it, eventually. It was either the best he ever had, or it was just okay and meh.
Here endeth the lesson.
And then, and then, there are the select moments, because it really isn't days anymore, or even time that feels like an eternity, that we sit in discomfort in the pits of our stomachs as they tumble and growl. We feel almost nauseated. Brains work overtime, because certainly a sexy replacement for me or the other guy by some complete stranger with better and bigger parts, or a furrier chest must be happening, I just know it.
And we still sit in the discomfort, maybe sweat a few minutes more, like it's 3 billion degrees. For me, I have found solace in any number of the now prominent polyamory books on my table, or loaded on my phone. I refuse to ask our other guy, "So, have ya heard from him?" Fuck that. That's game playing and kniving and beneath us. We trust him; we're happy for him. He's out there (to paraphrase an awesome mod on here) bangin' dicks.
Here endeth the lesson.