Coming Out: The Bad and the Ugly

I came out as polyamorous to my first person (OK, well, it was a couple) to whom it did not go well.

I’m pretty new to coming out, and especially new to coming out to people who would rather not know, so that might be why I overrode my instincts to keep quiet in this case.  Usually, the result of my disclosure varies from polite interest to overwhelming relief (whew!  I was wondering what was wrong with you!).  I could tell I was more nervous than usual in this scenario, and for some reason, I would have felt like a coward if I didn’t go through with it.  But something about these people, who were historically good friends of mine before both of us moved away, was making me shy.  Now I know to pay attention to that feeling.

I wasn’t particularly afraid of getting harshly judged (after all, that was the result, and as I’ll explain later, it wasn’t that bad in the grand scheme of things), even though these are rather judgmental people who just typically have not aimed their disapproval at me before.  What made me think twice about coming out, before I finally did, was my realization that all of our catching-up time was spent with them talking about their adventures, with no sense of curiosity about mine.  In fact, when I volunteered stories of my own, they would usually change the subject to something more interesting--them.  I clearly chose my audience poorly, though I might argue that I was really just giving them a chance to continue a solid friendship with me, a friendship that was already starting to deteriorate by what I saw as selfish behavior.  What I wanted was a connection that would allow them to understand me on a deep level--which is what I want from any friendship--and give context and background for the implications of some of my adventure stories that I still hoped I would get to share later.

In truth, the treatment I got was exactly the same from coming out as I got from telling anything more mainstream--they changed the subject.  It was just done in a higher-pitched, faster-talking, lower-eye-contact, palpable heart-rate-increasing way.  And in fact, it took a few seconds for them to change the subject, perhaps because they couldn’t quite think of anything in their lives that could relate and serve as a segue.  Then they pointedly asked me about my job.

So what might have happened to cause the disconnect?

They may have thought I was asking to jump into their bed that night.  That’s happened before, where I have come out to a friend who weeks afterward apologized profusely that his wife wouldn’t let me sleep with him (I’m sorry for the drama my non-invitation must have caused them).  And one of the members of the couple is a woman who admits to getting hit on constantly; it could be a default position to assume everyone wants her.

They could have thought I was telling them intimate details of my sex life.  When my secondary gets asked about the relationship between him and his primary, he responds, “do you want to know what positions we use?”  Sure, physical details aren’t polite dinner conversation (and this conversation did happen over dinner).  But in my practice, polyamory is vastly different from sex (I hope you’re not in the middle of dinner, but as an example: my girlthing and I have yet to have what most people would call sex, and we may never get around to it.  That doesn’t disqualify her as my girlthing); I didn’t even get around to names or numbers, much less what we do in bed.

I could have hit a nerve.  If openness was a historical topic of discussion between them that didn’t go well, it’s not likely to be a topic they want to open up with an unwilling mediator in the room.

I could have seemed competitive, or preachy.  I get the sense that it matters to some people how many people their neighbors are sleeping with, and they don’t like high numbers.  I can’t quite understand that, but it’s a phenomenon I’ve seen, perhaps not unlike wanting to know how much money your neighbors have and feeling good about yourself if you’ve got more.  And much as the old idea that gay teachers produce gay kids, it might have seemed like I was trying to forcibly convert them over to my dark side.

Certainly any number of other things that I didn’t detect might have been going on, and aside from the body language, I might simply have been boring them again by introducing a subject in which they had no interest.  In the end, I got a great education.  I know all about their lives and their adventures, and I might even want to incorporate some of their experiences into my own.  But I know I’m going to want to do that without a great deal of contact with these people.  I certainly don’t want to force them to think about things that are uncomfortable for them for my sake, and so I found myself tempering my stories.  Those stories might have had interesting and novel insights had they come across with an understanding of my unusual view of the world, but they were much more trite in the context of socially approved conversation and extremely carefully chosen wording.  And so it became very easy to sit silently and listen empathetically to everything they had to say.  That works in business, and it will still work if I have business dealings with them.  It might even work with friendship, though Dan Savage doesn’t seem to think so; I would want to talk to some more people who are closeted for any number of situations to get more perspective.  Right now I already happen to be surrounded by people who seem to take an interest in my thoughts, feelings, opinions, and in me, and I don’t particularly see the point yet in wasting the time to win the other guys over.

*****
Questions or comments?  I’ve got opinions.  Try me at polysaturated@rocketmail.com.

Love, autonomy, and mental illness

Love song lyrics aren’t really about love--they’re about mental illness.

That’s one of the themes brought up in Sex at Dawn, and I must say I’m thrilled that somebody else--somebody with real publishing power--has noticed that, too.  Case in point: the Police, Every Breath You Take.  Any number of breakup songs that attempt to deny a lover’s power and autonomy to leave (Faithless--Don’t Leave), or feebly explain away personal bad behavior (Rihanna--Unfaithful).  I can’t speak for everyone, but I’m creeped out by the concept that someone might fixate on me to the point of holding me against my will. I would say that has more to do with the nature of the possessive lover than the unique charms of the person they won’t let go.

Put very elegantly by a friend of mine to his spouse: I don’t care what you want, because I’m romantic.

The reverse applies as well.  All kinds of artists have muses who “inspire” their greatest works.  But great artists also have talent.  No matter how wonderful the muse, they can only enable the mediocre artist to produce mediocre work; it’s practice that will convert mediocre talent to greatness.  Once again, a particular lover might inspire the nuances or energy of a piece of art, but ultimately, the finished product comes from the artist in a manner that is consistent with their style.  The unique quality of a muse might simply be connection with someone who happens to be a great artist.

Similarly, I’m beginning to think the nature of love has a lot more to do with the person giving it than the person receiving it.  Sure, there’s particular chemistry between two people, but that chemistry is colored by each person’s style.

I was on a trip with my non-spousal primary, and the house where we were staying had some aromatic soap.  Smells, of course, tie in closely with memories, and when I washed my hands, I felt a rush of love.  Powerful, comfortable, long-standing Love rather than that crush I still remember whenever I smell that college quarterback’s cologne. 

Interestingly, I couldn’t tell to whom my smell-induced love was directed.  It wasn’t my spouse; I was at least aware of all the soap-procurement decisions in our house, even if I didn’t make them myself.  It wasn’t my secondary, because he doesn’t like anything aromatic and wouldn’t have put up with something that strong.  And it wasn’t my non-spousal primary, because I could detect a difference between what I was experiencing in the moment and what I was remembering.

After another day or so, I remembered the context where I had used that soap before.  It was from a time when my spouse and I were not living together, but we visited each other frequently.  My spouse was living in a place where I was much less acutely aware of the soap-procurement decisions, but where I had still spent enough time for the smell to burn itself into my memory.  Still, what first came back to me was the particular flavor of energy, compassion, and happiness I felt at the time, not the individual muse who was inspiring it.

It may sound impersonal, but in fact, I find it comforting.  If love depends more on the person giving it than the person receiving it, it seems a lot more likely to be unconditional.  And unconditional love feels safe.

I fell for my non-spousal primary much faster than I usually do, and one of the reasons I can detect is that his regard had almost nothing to do with me.  Instead, it seemed to come from within him and be directed towards anyone who could catch it.  My job was simply to detect, acknowledge, and accept it.  Sure, he was curious about me and the many ways our minds work differently from each other, and even the first unflattering thing he discovered about me got framed in terms of intrigue or even an appreciation for my wholeness and complexity.  But I never felt like I was being tested.

Because he was so well practiced in love (he’s one of the ones who’s still in love with all of his exes and therefore makes an empathetic and non-jealous poly partner), or has such good instincts, I felt like there was almost nothing I could do to drive him away.  Nor was there anything he would do to convince me to stay if I went away myself; that would simply be a consequence of my failure to accept and appreciate his regard.  I certainly don't want to test either of those hypotheses.  But the idea that his particular flavor of love comes from within him, and doesn’t depend on any action on my part, made falling for him feel safe.  There’s a lot of potential for creativity when one doesn’t feel evaluated.

I also like the idea that love is mine to give, not necessarily something I need to seek out and find if I want that energy, compassion, and happiness.  If it’s mine, I also get to control the quantity, the quality, and the directionality.  I simply seem to send it in more directions than most.

*****

Questions or comments?  I’ve got opinions!  Ask away at polysaturated@rocketmail.com.

All about my new girlthing

Prepare to congratulate me, because I have acquired a new girlthing.  And she is awesome.

I’ll tell you it came as complete surprise because:

1. for most of the time I knew her, she was in a happily monogamous relationship with no plans to change, and 
2. when she did open up, she was crushing out pretty heavily on some other girl.

That was stupid of me.  The whole point of being open (well, one of the many whole points) is that affection directed elsewhere does not have to diminish affection pointed in any given trajectory.  We’ve been friends for a while.  Why would I think that her confiding a separate crush to me had anything to do with her feelings for me?

That said, my hopes may not have been very high (did I mention she’s amazing?), but as soon as I found out she was willing to experiment with girls, I began to hatch a plan to get her to experiment with me.  My plan was highly complex:

1. Lose all brain power whenever I think of her
2. Curse the flying spaghetti monster that I’m as old as I am and I’m still not practiced enough in this to keep my head screwed on straight around her
3. Wait until she says something clever, witty, profoundly insightful, or that just puts a smile on her face (this will take all of 5 seconds, so I’d better be prepared.  Also, thank you to my non-spousal primary on the--ahem--primer on how to deal with girls)
4. Kiss her
5. Wait for the slap.

None of this happened.  Well, step 4 did, but that was not due to any talent or action on my part.  Turns out that when the crush on her first love/play interest(s) started to fall through, I happened to be there to pick up the pieces (note: I still stand by affection directed elsewhere not influencing the connection directed at me, but there really are only so many hours in the day, and it makes perfect sense to me why she was not pursuing me at the same time as going after someone else).  She already knew I’m not fond of the uncertainty does-she-like-me guessing game (a game she kindly calls “flirting” but that I call exhaustively defending my boundaries), and so she straight up told me she intended to kiss me (did I mention she’s wonderful?).

At that point, steps 1 and 2 above became active.

She calls me her secondary, which is a shockingly high level of commitment from that which I was expecting (commitment: we write each other a couple of times a week and see each other when we’re in town, to do whatever we want.  And we’re honest about our other partners on some semi-short time scale.  We do that for as long as it works for us, and then we renegotiate), and I call her my girlthing out of complete and utter lack of brain power available to so much as categorize her whenever she pops up in my head (thank you to my secondary for that term).

Is this what it’s like to be a 15-year-old guy?  I wish I had had more empathy for them.  Right now I’m high on NRE (new relationship energy), and as much as I am quite aware that I’m insufferable, my spouse is kindly just laughing at me.

I intend to learn a great many things from my girlthing, starting with how to work a room so that everyone in it feels loved and appreciated.  There is a way to do it, as evidenced by how special I felt when we were at dinner and she was publicly cuddling her husband while simultaneously playing footsie with me under the table (awkward poly moment when he reached for her hand, got mine instead, and it took a good 5 minutes for him to figure out his mistake).

Plus, she manages to make me feel secure even though the physical aspect of our relationship is quite new (code: anything can blow up massively and horribly at any time).  One of my coworkers has a saying: “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.  But if you can say something nice, it’s in your best interests to do so.”  My girlthing is great at that.  It’s really clear to me why I like her.  What’s less clear to me is what she sees in me (bumbling idiot whenever she’s around?  Check).  But she managed to say it in words:

You've been friends with me for a year and a half... gone rock climbing and ziplining with me, had dinners and drinks with me, cheered up my husband upon request, moved away from me (okay, that one is a strike against you), sent email to me on 62 different gmail threads, and found me [delete salient features here] guy to make out with.

So now my face is a little red, in addition to my brain being a little stupid, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.  Long live the crush!

*****

Questions or comments?  Now is a bad time to ask, as I’m too deep in NRE to have anything useful to say.  But I promise to to contemplate it to the best of my ability, so try me anyway: polysaturated@rocketmail.com

Generosity and Riches

I find it incredibly easy to be generous when I’m feeling rich.  Jokes about never having met a wealthy communist aside, it’s a lot easier for me to share what I have in abundance than what I feel like I’m struggling to get enough of.

This applies to food.  I’m not proud of the argument I had with my spouse after I offered half of my protein bar and then realized that my caloric needs were such that keeping the whole thing myself might have been better for both of us.  The truth is I was not objected to any selfishness on my spouse’s part; he was innocent.  I was objected to my falling blood sugar.

This applies to money.  I never picked up the entire tab for dinner with a friend when I was in college.  To do so might represent not being able to eat real food for a week or two, even if said friend were going to pick up the tab after said week.  Now I pay for dinner all the time, and it’s pretty hard to remember whose turn it is.

This applies to time.  If I’ve got my own urgent priorities, it’s hard to worry about someone else’s.  But if I’ve got my own things taken care of, I enjoy nothing more than helping out a friend.

And this applies to love.  If I feel well loved and secure, my natural tendency is to rejoice in my lover’s good fortune at finding someone else with whom to explore.  If I feel like I’m starved for attention, it’s going to be hard to muster enthusiasm when the attention I crave is directed elsewhere.

I recently had a mild playful experience with someone (let’s call them my “tertiary”) in a similar situation to me--this person has a spouse, a non-spousal primary, and a smattering of other people of various import to their lives.  Additionally, neither my tertiary nor I have a lot of rules in the traditional sense of open relationships, but my tertiary’s non-spousal primary was going through a break-up with a different lover, and that left them feeling vulnerable.  So even though my tertiary’s spouse had an anything-goes policy, his non-spousal primary wouldn’t have been happy about a whole lot of shenanigans.

When my spouse asked how my evening went (code for: “is it time for us to get STI tests again?”), and I announced that it was rather tame, my spouse was surprised at the reasoning.  After all, who has more stringent requirements, or more traditional reason for jealousy, than a spouse?  In truth, a spouse or spousal equivalent--anybody long-term, committed and in general living together--in a relationship that is going well might be very willing to share.  They would ideally be confident that relevant information is shared in a timely fashion, and that they will get their turn for undivided attention at some relatively near point.  Preferably, they've also had enough quality time recently  Someone who’s not providing enough time, attention, affection, or whatever it is people want in a relationship might get more grumbling over extra-curricular play time or partners.  So the trick may be to make darned certain that the important people in your life are fully satisfied with what they’re getting before running around and finding action elsewhere.

*****

Questions or comments?  Try my at polysaturated@rocketmail.com.