
I left on a 7am, Friday morning flight that was delayed because of thunderstorms in my destination city and returned late Monday evening because of thunderstorms in New Orleans. No matter my direction, heading out or heading home, thunderstorms were on the horizon.
My trip started with a cab ride to the airport. I had to leave the house at 6 am, and
Marc said he’d pay for a taxi if he could avoid that 5:45 alarm to take me to
the airport. Remember that scene
in Fargo when Margie gets the early morning call about the triple homicide and
her loveable husband, Norm (pronounced “Narm”) insists on getting up to make
her breakfast? Yeah, well, I get a
whole lot of wonderful things out of this primary relationship with Marc, but
early morning breakfast and taxi rides to see my lover just aren’t on the menu. I understand this about Marc, and so I agreed
that a taxi would be better than waking a sleeping grizzly, which is what Marc
is before 10am.
My ride was 15 minutes late, but just as I was dialing the
cab company, a taxi pulled up. The
driver got out of the car to help me with my bags. As he hoisted the roll-aboard into the trunk, he said in a
thick Cajun accent, “Darlin’, I can’t take a credit card.”
I agreed to pay cash and jumped into the back seat. “I’m kind of in a hurry.”
“No problem, sweetheart. I’ll get you there on time.” He slowly pulled away from the
curb and proceeded to go 20 in a 35-miles per hour speed zone up my block. He maintained a steady speed 10 miles
an hour slower than the speed limit the entire way.
Though I was sleepy and didn’t feel talkative, I was
wondering if this guy would be as entertaining as every taxi driver I’ve ever
had the pleasure to meet on my way to or from Louis Armstrong International
Airport. As I sat watching the
speedometer hoping I could make him accelerate, I remembered my favorite driver. He was an Iraqi who, when Marc told him
we were on our way to climb mountains in Nepal, said, “Do you think you’ll see
that guy Yeti?” I smiled at the
memory and missed Marc. Though I
was beyond excited to spend time with Scott, there was a part of me that wished
Marc was next to me and we were on another M&M adventure.
As I held both Marc and Scott in my conscious desire, the
driver brought me back to the car when he said, “Darlin’, you are in fine
shape.”
I shawl of disappointment dropped over my shoulders. Great,
I thought. I got the only sexual harasser
on the fleet.
I looked out the side window to avoid any rear-view mirror
eye contact. “Oh. Thank you.”
“No, I mean it, girl.
You look firm. I should
have asked you to sit in the front seat.”
Trying to nip it all in the bud, I said, “And I would have
declined.”
“I’m just joshin’ ya, sweetheart.”
The dispatcher piped in to see if the driver had picked me
up despite my desire to pay with a credit card. “Yeah, she’ll pay cash. We’re all good.
She’s a sweetheart.”
He ended up being less creepy than I expected. Mostly we talked about the Saints and
what sort of effect the NFL sanctions would have on next season.
We arrived at the airport, he placed my bags on the curb, and
I paid him. Before I could turn, he
looked at me again. Bracing myself
for some sort of uncomfortable complement, he said, “You really are something special. I can tell. I can see you’re a happy person.”
This made me smile.
“Thank you,” I said, holding eye contact. As I walked away, I wondered if the security of a known and
true love combined with the glow of a new love was showing on my face, on my
body. And then I thought about how
Marc might be getting similar complements these days.
I made it to the gate on time only to sit on the tarmac for
2 ½ hours waiting for storms to clear out of Chicago. I sent a text to Scott to let him know we were going to be
delayed. After expressing
heart-wrenching disappointment (we hadn’t seen each other in the flesh for almost
2 months), he proceeded to entertain me by sending r-rated text messages,
including a couple of pics that made the man behind and across the aisle gasp
at least once and the woman in the seat next to me lean over a bit, crook her
neck, and try to get a better view.
I thought about sending a text to Marc to tell him my flight is delayed and
then decided not to. My late
arrival would have no impact on him, I’d just wake him, and he’d probably worry
about my flight anxiety getting tweaked by a delay due to storms. I thought about him all cozy in our
bed, the dogs snoozing on their pillows, and all three of them, Marc and our
two dogs, sawing logs to create a snoring symphony loud enough to wake the
neighbors. I was only a couple of
hours into my weekend, and already I missed my family.
Finally, the captain informed us that we were clear for take
off. I took one last look at one
of Scott’s naughty texts, sent Marc, who by now was probably waking, a message
to let him know I wouldn’t be letting him know I’ve landed safely until after
noon, and then I turned off my phone and settled into my seat. A half hour later, we were still
immobile on the runway. The
captain once again came on the p.a. and said that the computers used to
calculate something about the take-off were down so they had do it by
hand. Gulp. I leaned over to the voyeur next to me
and said, “I hope they’re competent.”
Not only did they have to calculate all of the equations by
hand, they had to drive the plane over to deliver the paperwork to the
F.F.A. Before we knew it, we were
coasting across the airport headed to the back of some building. I saw a pudgy, out-of-breath, balding
man in a short sleeved, button down shirt, tie, and khakis lumbering toward the
plane. The flight attendant opened
the door, handed him the necessary papers, and he lumbered back to his
air-conditioned office. Only in New Orleans, I thought to
myself.
Apparently, they had calculated whatever needed calculating
with some accuracy, because finally we were airborne. As the aircraft started to level out, that damn captain came
on once more to inform us that our flight pattern included a 500-mile detour to
avoid the storms. For a brief
moment I wondered if Mother Nature was conspiring to send a message to me that
the monogamous couple is the only natural
way to do sexual intimacy, and who was I to try to do something
different? I remembered Marc
saying something about how, if I were to die in a plane crash going to see
Scott, he’d kill me. Shaking my
fists at the clouds as we bumped along in some seriously fucked up turbulence,
I said to Mother Nature, “Nice try, lady!
If my real mother couldn’t make me a good girl, no one can.”
I arrived safely at the airport 3 ½ hours late and was
greeted by Scott breaking in to run to get across the baggage claim area and
take me into his arms. I was so
happy to see him, and I imagined that Marc and his girlfriend would also be
cherishing the first physical contact after not having seen each other for a
week or so. Feeling a small pang
of jealousy, I assumed Marc would experience the exact same thing when he
thought about Scott and me together.
Walking to the car hand-in-hand with Scott, I reminded myself to be especially
loving toward marc and express just how much I miss him when I let him know I arrived
safely. And I hoped that he would
do the same for me.
Balancing the intoxicating elixir of new relationship energy
with the desire and responsibility to care for a primary partner precisely
because of that energy can be tricky business, especially over a couple of days
apart. This past weekend, since
both Marc and I were spending time with our lovers instead of with each other,
we had a good opportunity to try to strike that balance.
So, how do you balance a romantic weekend with your lover
with the responsibility you have to your primary? What do you see as your responsibilities, and how do you
fulfill them?
Mimi: When I am spending the weekend with
Scott, I have three main responsibilities. 1) Be available to Marc if he needs to connect, 2) Be
focused on and attentive to Scott, and 3) Don’t impose on or interfere with
Marc’s time with his lover.
Being available to Marc means that I can’t completely drop
out of my and his cyber or digital connections for three days. If I see that he has called or sent a
text, I try to respond the moment I have some time to myself. This does not mean having my phone
right there and the second Marc contacts me excusing myself from whatever Scott
and I are doing to text or call Marc.
At least that’s the goal. This is a lot easier said than done because in
the past, Marc has expressed some dissatisfaction with my not answering or
replying to a text right away. And
this is where #2 comes in.
Scott and I are doing a long distance relationship, which
means we get to spend time physically together about once/month at most. Even if we lived in the same city, when
I’m with Scott, I’m with Scott. I
would be shirking my responsibilities to him if I was constantly texting or
talking to Marc…or any one else, for that matter. There have been times when I’ve had to ask Scott if he would
give me some space to make a connection with Marc. Last weekend, for instance, I requested a bit of alone time
so I could call Marc, and though I know it was probably hard on Scott, he
obliged and took the dog for a walk so I could have some privacy. Marc and I had a phone conversation that
helped us connect for a moment, and when Scott returned, I could once again
focus on him.
I understand that Marc feels a need to reach out to me when
I’m with Scott because I sometimes feel the same thing when he’s spending time
with a lover. But it is my
responsibility to not interfere and demand his attention when he is with
someone else. This means that,
unless there is an emergency, I don’t send texts or call when Marc is on a
date. I do send texts or try to
call once a day to check in when we are apart for the weekend, but I don’t
expect him to answer or reply right away.
If I’m feeling a need to connect, I will send a text saying I need a bit
of TLC, and I know that eventually he will be there for me. It is unfair for me to get angry or
hurt if I don’t hear back from him right away, but to be honest, sometimes I do
feel it. The key is to deal with
my feelings on my own. The worst
thing I could do is take it out on Marc by badgering him with “Where are you? You must be having sex,” sorts of
messages or texts. It’s not fair
to him, and it’s not fair to his date or girlfriend because it’s demanding his
time and attention when I’ve agreed to give him space to focus on another--especially if they're having sex!
It’s so important for all of us, Marc and his lover, Scott
and me, and Marc and me to have space to cultivate our relationships to each
other. This also means sometimes
telling our lovers to give Marc and me some breathing room, but that’s a topic
for another blog.
Marc:
Yes, it’s true… I’m not a morning person. I get a lot of work done between
11:30pm and 1:30am. Mimi was very
sweet this time around…she left little love notes on my cereal box, my
keyboard, and near the front door to remind me that she was thinking about me
before she left. I was able to
“pay Mimi off” and get her to take a cab.
It was nice to have my lover (who we’ll call Svetlana…and for
the record, Svetlana is not “one of my lovers”…she’s currently the only lover
I’m seeing these days) over.
Though we did not spend the entire weekend together as Mimi and Scott
did (we took Saturday off, as I had to work much of the day), we definitely
spent more time together than usual, and we enjoyed each other’s company.
Since the last time I had Svetlana spend some weekend time
with me while Mimi was away with Scott, Mimi has had a weekend away in Chicago
with Scott where I had no intimacy with a lover (see our “Home Alone” entry),
and I definitely prefer NOT being alone while she’s gone. It seems to balance things out a bit
and takes the sting out of her being away with someone else.
I, too, try not to contact Mimi much when she is away. That said, I am guilty of assuming that
when she doesn’t answer the phone or return texts, it’s because she is having
sex (but to be fair, the first time Scott came to New Orleans, that actually
WAS the reason, though I assume it’s not always the reason). It’s tough to balance the need to
connect with realizing that we both need to let each other “do our thing” when
we have weekends apart like this.
When we parted ways, we both promised to take care of each
other when she returned to New Orleans.
That’s the biggest thing that makes this open relationship run as
smoothly as possible. It’s so
important to check in with each other and find out if there’s anything that
will help the other person deal with his/her emotions any better. Boundaries are also key. Realizing what emotions YOU have to
deal with on your own, or with friends/confidants, and what emotions you should
expect your partner to help you out with.
I personally have insecurities and jealousies just like most people do,
but I realize that Mimi’s only job is to answer questions, and confirm her
feelings for me, not to do the work that needs to be done for me to deal with
the insecurities….that is work I need to do.
One other thing that Mimi and I do is make an effort to make
some things still special between only the two of us (no, I’m not talking about
butt sex). There are certain
restaurants that Mimi and I go to and certain types of shopping we do at
specific stores in Chicago when we’re there, and Mimi has agreed not to do
those things with Scott, so that they can be our special things to do when
we’re there. Likewise, there are
certain restaurants that I don’t go with Svetlana, and specific things I don’t
do with Svetlana while we’re at our (mine and Mimi’s) house.
These are all little things that require negotiation, and
that communication is super important.
Our biggest responsibility to each other during, before, and after these
weekends apart is communication, and as long as we keep the lines of
communication open, and engage in that without much judgment, we can make it
work.
Pretty cool reading about both of your honest feelings . I have to say I have wondered how each of you deal with natural jealousy in this life style choice ? For me this situation would be unbearable. I think your both very strong people and I give you a lot of credit for doing this as a mutual agreement and not as most do by hiding it from their partner. The trust and respect you have for each other in a seemingly sometimes tough situation is admirable!
ReplyDeleteThanks, Anon. You mention that the situation would be unbearable for you. That's an understandable first reaction...just like running a marathon or doing an Ironman triathlon, often times the reaction is "I could never do that". Yet, after lots of training and perseverance, people ARE able to achieve difficult goals, so it just comes down to how important these goals are to you as an individual.
ReplyDeleteI just recently stumbled upon your blog as a product of my Facebook feed. I appreciate all forms of relationships involving all forms of gender identity/expression and sexual orientation. What I find most compelling about your blog is in the specific manner that each of you address the very-real issues of non-monogamous relationships. While I am not currently in one myself, I find that the way you approach issues of every day life is very appealing to a general audience and is quite a refreshing way to see varying aspects of another's lives. I love reading. Keep your posts coming!
ReplyDeleteM&M, I can't tell you how appreciative I have been of your blog since I discovered it a week or two ago. I have been in a fairly unstructured nonmonogamous/open relationship with my partner for almost six years now, definitely not without 'off' periods and trials and tribulations of various sorts. To so much of what I've read on 2plus my response has been "That's exactly how I feel!" or "I bet that's how he feels sometimes." It gives me hope for our future and lets me know that we are not alone in figuring out this convoluted world of sexuality. Mimi is coming to speak at my school tomorrow night and I'm greatly looking forward to it, keep an eye out for me at her talk tomorrow night and on Friday. Best of luck to you both!
ReplyDelete