Happy Anniversary to Me!

One of my lovers (about a recent date): She’s not quite for me. 

(pause)

Yeah, I’d do her.

*****

Nobody’s perfect.  We’re all looking for whatever it is that we want.  And if we’re lucky, we can find what we’ll happily put up with.  What I can put up with changes with the circumstances.  There’s an inverse relationship between the discomfort I’m willing to put up with and the time I’m asked to spend on it.

Physical intimacy takes time and effort.  It also has a lot of potential benefits, for both physical and mental health.  As with any commodity, the less intimacy I have in my life, the lower the quality I will demand in order to choose to partake (I’ll eat convenience store junk when I’m on a road trip with many hours since my last meal).

Right now, there’s a large variety of intimacy in my life, so I can’t imagine who or what would inspire me to add to my variety.  But quantity counts, too.  Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and if I miss someone, I don’t care how full up I am on intimacy in general.  I’ll want to throw my experience in with the person I miss as soon as I see them again.

Balance the absence

Much as it ticks off feminists, The Game has a lot of compelling points about attraction (most notably: if you’re trying to attract someone, make sure you have something of value to offer.  One might be tempted to interpret that as money, and sure, some people go for obvious sugar.  But the idea is a lot more inclusive than that--any good experience can be a valuable offering).

Why wait three days after meeting someone to call them (at least in the dark ages when I was dating for the first time)?  They’ve had time to miss you, and they haven’t had time to forget about you.  Pickup artists (PUA’s) as described in The Game have names for what happens when you wait too long between interactions: blur and stale.  Initial interest wanes after the target has a chance to fill their life/time/attention with things that are Not You, and so they don’t return your calls.  It’s just because they’re busy with other things.  When I lose interest, it’s usually not with the active malice that 13-year-old girls seem to imagine of boys who ask for their phone number and never call.  I’m simply otherwise occupied, and some things or people slip out of my attention if they’re not actively maintained.

Absence makes room for substitutes

The last time I was in the mood for casual sex, every one of my lovers was out of town, and an inappropriate friend was in town.  I like this friend, quite a bit.  They’re not usually one of my priorities, but circumstances were such that I was free, and this was the best option I had available.  It was a pretty good option, too.  So I spent a mildly inappropriate evening with them that I might otherwise never have gotten around to.  If it had never happened, I still would have been quite happy.  As it was, I got some intimacy, some variety, and I was perfectly happy with lack of sustainability.  As far as I am aware, so were they.

The lover at the top of this post was on vacation.  None of their regular lovers were around.  And therefore, regardless of how the interaction went (assuming excruciating safety!), nothing was really taken away from the other lovers.  If what my lover was after was connection, and it’s both unlikely and inconvenient to find consummate love while away from home base, why demand perfection for a temporary interaction?

Third-party interests

At least, the other lovers don’t have anything to lose in theory.  In practice, we tend to judge values and act according to our peers (people tend to to eat according to how much their meal companions eat, and so overeaters--or, for example, athletes--tend to cluster together by managing social cues).  There’s a tendency to prefer high quality in meta-lovers, as we see them as peers (you like that person?  Does that mean I’m annoying, too?  -or- Can I get away with such sloppy behavior and you’ll still keep me, too?).  But then again, not all lovers are equal in affection.

Then there’s the monogamous ideal that one person can so completely fill another’s every need that they are not interested in anyone else.

In truth, for significant snippets of time, even that has happened to me.

*****

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

Pets and Poly

Metalover (about a new OKCupid date): I just want to keep her has a pet.

Me: What does that mean?

Metalover: I like to talk to her.  I’m not really attracted to her, but I’d sure like to snuggle up to her.

*******

There are many, many inappropriate things people can do together that don’t generally qualify as sex.  Some of them are a lot of fun.  Some of them are often considered precursors to sex.  How does one stop at a particular level of inappropriate behavior that might be seen as a precursor to sex, but that one wants to keep as a singular outcome?

There’s a lot of talk in the open/kinky community about the “culture of consent.”  If no sometimes means yes, and vice versa,  it’s hard to figure out just how much someone is into what’s happening vs. just going along for the ride or actively wanting to backtrack mid-activity.  It’s safest to refrain from a certain activity until getting clear and enthusiastic consent from their partner(s).

That sounds great in theory, but in practice, a lot of things can go wrong in the moment, including:

1. I’m enthusiastic, so you must be, too!
2. What do you mean you’re not that into me?
3. Oh, come on, just give it a try.  You might like it.
4. We’ve gone this far, why not keep going?
5. Whine, bitch, moan, complain.

One way to deal with that potential--and very common--issue of overstepped boundaries or consent in the moment is for people to play well within their boundaries so the consequences of overstepped expressed boundaries are not so severe as overstepped actual boundaries.

At its best, openness allows for different levels of play with different people.  Everyone gets their needs met and nobody depends on a singular person to fill those needs, so there’s no need for pressure.  But what’s the difference between pressure and encouragement to expand one’s horizons into activities that might be fun, and if not fun, never have to be experienced again?  The kind of pressure expressed in lines 1-5 only seem problematic to society if in the context of sex, rather than, say, going on a hike or some other means of expanding horizons.  I prefer to have partners I trust to go to the edge of what I’m comfortable with around them and not further.  As with most activities, going just to the edge of a comfort zone builds skills safely and efficiently.  It just seems hard for some people to believe that the edge with them may be different than what constitutes the edge with a different person.  Or that someone else's edge may be different from their own.

My secondary seems to have a good way to get around that, and it’s quite the opposite of reactions 1-5 above.  It gets him a lot of action.  He sets boundaries early on, either his own boundaries (I’d like to get in bed and snuggle with clothes on), and sometimes a partner’s boundaries (don’t let me kiss you!).  And then he sticks to them.  Even if his partner’s boundaries seem to move in the moment, his never do.

“Nope.  You said not to let you kiss me.  And I won’t.”  It drives them crazy.  And yet, it feels safe enough to allow them to come off their guard.  If they still feel like kissing well after the cuddle session is over, new rules can get negotiated for the next session.  And they’ll be darned sure to want a next session.  There’s no “what was I thinking?  Why did I do something so stupid?” moment.  All they remember is they want more.  And they come back for it.

Part of being open allows for culturally inappropriate behavior with friends.  The assumption of sex is there, and it sometimes happens.  But sometimes, it’s just nice to get an inappropriately long vertical clothing-on hug.

*******

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

Sex parties

I love the snack table at sex parties.  That is my favorite part!

-Sex Nerd Sandra, Episode 100, 1:32:56

*****

There’s a lot of stuff I didn’t know about sex parties.  Most notably, they’re not about sex.

OK, well, that’s not necessarily true.  From what I’ve seen and heard briefly, there can be a lot of getting naked and getting it on happening at a sex party, but that’s not necessarily the point.  The point is finding people and getting to know one another.  Or maybe, catching up with good old horizontal friends.

I recently went to “one of those parties” (as far as I know, nobody has a word for them, but it was a party for the open/kinky community, where people--couples exclusively, in this case--can find sex partners to play with later but not use them immediately for instant gratification).  It was fascinating.  So I’m writing up a brief review to try to parse out what I’ve learned.

How do you know the hosts?

How do you know the host(ess)?  A pretty innocuous question at a party, and this party was particularly nice because, knowing that everyone was there to scope out sex for one purpose or other, I got much better answers than the, “oh, we have a mutual friend” that I use as the stock answer when introducing my non-spousal primary (the truth--we met on an on-line dating site--is not for mixed company).

Answers ranged from, “I know this person, who knows this person, who introduced me to... [6 people later], who’s dating the host” to “my wife is an artist, and the hostess is an artist.  We usually go to art shows together.  But sometimes, we have sex.”  Nobody used, “I was a stranger come in off the street, heard about this party, and decided to invite myself,” which is how I met my secondary.  That would have been an awkward way to enter this party.

My answer to how I know the hosts?  “My spouse went on a date with the hostess about a year ago.  This is the first party we were able to schedule to come to.”

Managing expectations

The most notable answer to the question above: We met at a meetup group for polyamorous people and swingers.

“Oh,” I said.  “So in this group, there’s overlap between polyamory and swinging?  Often, the two seem mutually exclusive.”

“Yes, well, some people are into just one or the other.  We do both. I presume you’re mono?”

This gave me two great opportunities:

1. if I can pass for monogamous at a sex party, surely I can pull the wool over the eyes of society.  I did a mental happy dance over that feedback.
2. it gave me a great way to manage expectations (the person in question seemed to get very attached to me rather quickly, and I preferred to move them away).  “I think I get both concepts, but I’m hard-core polyamorous.  I just would rather spend my time with someone I know and love, even if it's just on the phone, than have casual sex right now.”

Sometimes it’s nice to not have to worry about pushing off unwanted sex

Odd as it seems--not having sex at a sex party--I found myself very happy it was just a social event.  Given that this was a meat market, and I didn’t want casual sex (see “Managing expectations” above), it was great to have an excuse to keep my clothes on, even if the excuse was something like, “this isn’t the sort of party where we end up having sex.” 

The tension in the room was palpable.  It might seem like a no-brainer that in a culture of consent, nobody’s having sex who doesn’t want to.  But the fact that the point of this party was to find new sex partners, and I was the newest person to the network, meant I was surrounded by drooling idiots (and I do mean that in the kindest way possible.  They were all very attractive in their own ways).  Had sex been an actual possibility, expressing the constant “no” would have become exhausting.

You have to do your time at the public parties before you get invited to the really good private ones

This was the first private party I was invited to, and I was disappointed by the social dynamics.  We found the hosts after my spouse went on a date with the hostess (“How do you know the hosts?” above), and when my spouse met the hostess’s husband (called hereafter the “host” for short), fireworks ensued.  I don't mean the good kind of fireworks.  Those two didn’t get along.  That fact didn’t endear me to the prospect of even going to this party.  After all, there are people I love whom I’m not fucking right now--what am I doing at a party with an unpleasant host?

The effect was even worse after the host, who had chosen to act like an ass to my spouse, clearly decided to go after me.  What’s the worse social evil, to be rude to the host, or to lead him on (because, in my experience, anything aside from extremely clear and direct negativity has great potential for leading on)?  The choice would have been made much easier had I any other entree into the good private parties. 

The results

In general, I’d say the evening was a social success.  My spouse and I exchanged digits with a few compelling people, and apparently the “wait three days rule” that I’d heard back in the day the first time I was dating no longer applies now.  The text messages and plans to get together are already flowing through cyberspace.

The evening was so successful, in fact, that I wanted to leave early.  Not because I wasn’t having a good time.  Just that I had already been there long enough to figure out whom I wanted to see again and whom I could just as easily live without.  Sure, we could party for hours and have a socially awkward good time with near-strangers undressing us with their eyes (some of them welcome, and some of them less so).  Or we could go home and make our own fun.

We’re all judging, all the time

The big surprise was the conversation on the way home.  Whom did you like, and who turned you off?  Can we agree on anybody to contact later?  Was their partner worthwhile?  Details of body type and aesthetic on the ones we liked.  Snooty remarks about the ones who had obviously either snubbed us or misread our “go away” body language.

I felt very shallow.  And I know those conversations, for the other guests, involved harsh or objectifying observations about me, too.  But such is the consequence of trying to find chemistry that works for two.

*****

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

The Replacements

One of my lovers (who’s normally very good at poly): What do you need me for?  You’ve got all sorts of lovers.

Me: Yeah, but none of the others are you.

*****

What do you need multiple lovers for?

Selfishly, it’s to fill different needs or desires.  More outwardly compassionately, it’s to relieve one of your lovers from filling a role they would prefer not to.  If, like me, you don’t live with all of your lovers at once and instead spend time with each of them in turn (micro-serial monogamy), it might even have the benefit of keeping everyone in that puppy love stage where you never see quite enough of them, so you miss them in a flattering way and only see their good qualities when they’re around.  Annoying little habits are less annoying when someone else you’re with doesn’t have them, and you don’t have to put up with them all the time.

So if one lover goes away, it might be a creature comfort to have another lover around to console you*, but there’s no replacing an individual#.  The strange thing to me, which may not make sense to the monogamous, was how happy I always have been to be with a lover who was mourning the loss of another lover, even though I know the person they were longing for most strongly was decidedly not me.

My girlthing talks about “layers” of a relationship, as if a relationship were a Photoshop file that was beautiful in its completeness but could still be picked apart to have smaller complete aspects.  When a lover has a romantic loss, I feel like I can easily pull out and use the friendship layer of the relationship and simply be there with them while they mope.

When I speak of “loss,” it’s not necessarily limited to a breakup.  I’ve counseled only one lover through a full-fledged breakup, but there are other somewhat similar experiences.  There was my girlthing’s spouse’s first extracurricular date, which might have been more novel than uncomfortable, at least until I opened up my mouth with exactly what she didn’t want to hear.

And there was the time my secondary’s longtime ex dramatically reclaimed some mementos, which, though not a breakup, had some of the same sucker-punching effects.  Happily for me, my secondary correctly interpreted it when I sent him a care package of some mementos of my own.  I wasn’t trying to replace the ex; I was just pointing out that there are others who care for him even if the ex doesn’t.

When I’m with one lover, I’m in a state of flow. I almost never wish I were with a different one (the odd exception being when I’m fighting with another one, and I just want to get that resolved so I can get on with my life).  If I did habitually wish I were elsewhere, I’d take note of it, and that so far has led to the relatively few replacements# I have had.  It probably helps that my lovers all have different glorious attributes, and they all make a unique contribution to my life.  As my non-spousal primary puts it: you only need one drummer in the band.

So it may make sense that there’s a high barrier to entry into my life right now, even though I’m clearly capable of romantic love with more than my fair share of individuals.  If a fair number of unique positive attributes are already represented in my lover-space, it’s going to take a lot of work to either find a space that’s not filled yet, or surpass a space that’s already occupied so I’m motivated to make more room.

And how is that particularly different from having a lot of friends?

______________________________________________________

*Here, I fully admit to being full of shit.  I’ve yet to have my heart broken, so I don’t know what I’m talking about.  And I’m pretty old, so I’ll probably be unsympathetic to the plight of most humans for the majority of my life.  All that I’ve gathered is what I can figure out from the outward signs of loved ones who have had their hearts broken.

#You called it.  I’m full of shit again.  I can distinctly think of two lovers who were “replaced” in my life, with my own permission or design, by people whose positive qualities were similar but superior.  I don’t miss the former lovers because I’m surrounded by people who are closer to my ideal, which probably makes me a jerk.  So the downside of poly, I guess, is that you can be replaced by someone better who comes along.  This is completely contrary to the ideal theory of polyamory, where one person cannot take away affection for another.  My experience of the truth is... well, they don’t have to.  But they might.