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stillbornphoenix-blog · 6 years

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Burn Me Alive Inside

"Living my life's not hard enough Take everything away” - Prayer by Disturbed

I believe my life is plenty hard enough as it is, but I know it could always be worse. I think quite often about my whole life going up in flames. What if every material possession I owned was destroyed beyond repair. I think at first I would feel sorrowful for all the time and effort that was spent in obtaining all that I had lost. After a brief period of that... I honestly think I would be relieved. Let me explain.

“The things you own end up owning you. It's only after you lose everything that you're free to do anything.” - Fight Club

I feel so tied down by what I own. I used to dream of having a home equipped with all manner of comforts. Money itself was never much of a motivator for me. I don’t care about the status quo or showing off my fortune. What does appeal to me is having all kinds of toys tools to pursue my hobbies. I also have acquired quite a media library for entertainment and distraction. However, this all adds up to a demand on my time.

Time to binge shows on Netflix. Time to watch my blu-ray collection. Time to listen to vinyl records. Time to play video games on Steam. Time to catch up on Facebook. Time to make and edit video projects. Time to cook a fancy homemade meal. Time spent learning new skills. Time to spend with family & friends. Time spent sleeping, eating, going to the bathroom, and working out. Time spent at my job earning my income. Time spent on errands like paying bills, washing dishes, doing laundry, getting the oil changed, grocery shopping, etc.

The wisdom of age and experience has taught me that there is only so much that I can accomplish in one lifetime. Quite simply I do not have enough time to pursue my every flight of fancy. I must allocate my time to the best of my ability to provide the best yield over the course of my time here on earth. More often than not though I find myself distracted with all the little pleasantries life has to offer. Is it wrong to indulge in these little joys of life? I don’t believe so, at least not in temperance. However, gluttony is a sin... and idle hands are the devil’s playthings.

Bring that full circle to the accumulation of material wealth. Everything you could ever own requires some amount of maintenance. Storage, cleaning, repair, recharging, reloading, preparation, fuel, etc... All maintenance is a cost to one’s time, energy, and/or resources. I’ve come to the point where I feel overwhelmed by the accumulated maintenance cost of what I own. I look at things I bought, things that mattered to me at a point in my life, things that hold less or no value to my present self, and I’m left debating if it’s better to sell it and be free of the burden or simply hang onto it and avoid the effort of selling or delivering it to a donation station.

Almost ever item comes attached with a memory, and memories are difficult to part with. It’s difficult to fathom that the memory will remain without the item in question. I live alone, yet the things that fill my apartment play films in my head of those who used to be here. Appropriately I have a box in my closet with “Skulls & Roses” written on it filled with the notes, pictures, and plush animals from failed relationships.

“Swimming through the ashes of another life” - 45 by Shinedown

I have dreams... goals which I’d like to accomplish in my life above all others. Yet I don’t pursue them. I spend my time in maintenance. I spend my time in comfort and distraction and entertainment. Why sit down with a pencil and paper and some utter garbage that will likely never amount to anything when I could play a game or watch a show and be content for the time being?

“I gave my everything for all the wrong things" - Dark Side of Me by Coheed and Cambria

Delayed gratification is such a difficult skill to master. Letting go of what I consider mine is near impossible. Whenever something is taken from me, the remorse of losing the thing is proportional to its personal cost to me. Afterwards I’m usually left relieved of the burden of having to deal with it anymore.

“Let the past die. Kill it if you have to. That’s the only way to become what you were meant to be.” - Star Wars: The Last Jedi

Sometimes I think of setting fire to this place myself. Take what few things really need and watch the rest go up in flames. Focus my time and energy on what’s really important to me and my dreams. Maybe then I’ll find peace & purpose.

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stillbornphoenix-blog · 6 years

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when you feel like Icarus stuck in a time loop

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stillbornphoenix-blog · 6 years

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of LOVE & SEX

I was raised Christian by my grandparents. Through elementary I went to a Catholic school. We moved to a place that didn’t have a Catholic middle school, so I went to public school for the first time. Throughout the first few weeks I’d occasionally get asked, “Who’s on top?” I had no idea what they were talking about until someone clued me in that it was about sex.

I heard a lot of sex jokes that I didn’t understand at all. I laughed along because I was too embarrassed to admit that I knew absolutely nothing about sex, or even what a girl looked like naked for that matter. I didn’t even know what a vagina was or looked like.

Near the end of my first semester in public school curiosity got the better of me. I didn’t know the word “porn” yet, but I’d heard of Playboy, so I typed in playboy.com and saw pictures of boobs for the first time in my life. Although it wasn’t the first time my penis had felt that tingling sensation, it was the first time it had become fully erect. My natural instincts kicked in to stimulate my upright member with my hand until something unexpected happened. The exhilaration of that first time, a buildup of pleasure leading to some unknown event but being excited instead of afraid of whatever was about to happen. When I finally exploded it was the best feeling I’d ever had in my life... and I immediately felt like a horrible person. I had sinned.

Over winter break my grandmother offered to homeschool me. She didn’t like the effect that public school had on me between bullies and me feeling brave enough to cuss here and there. I agreed mostly to get away from the sexually toxic environment of middle school, but also because I hated waking up early every morning.

I was homeschooled through the rest of middle and high school, but I never stopped masterbating. It only got worse, and the worse it got the more I hated myself. It didn’t help that I never managed get a girlfriend, so I never had the opportunity to go too far and actually experience sex itself. It remained life’s greatest mystery. It seemed as though there was a whole other world on the other side of virginity that I couldn’t be a part of. Add to that the ambivalence of wanting sex more than anything yet it also being my greatest source of self-hatred.

When I was 19 I was rejected by a girl who seemed to really like me, but gave a bullshit reason why she couldn’t be with me. I deducted the lie was due to me being physically unattractive. On that day I dedicated myself to physical excellence. I also determined that 8 years of suffering from the guilt of lust was over. Instead I embraced my sexuality. Between my newfound self-acceptance and getting into peak physical condition a year later I was finally appealing to the opposite sex.

I finally had a girlfriend, and she was smoking hot! I never dreamed I could get with a girl this damn good looking. We were intimate over clothes, but never managed to have a private moment alone since we both lived with our parents. After several months when the opportunity presented itself... I couldn’t get hard. Why the fuck wasn’t I able to get hard!?! This girl was hotter than hell and slobbering on my limp noodle, but all I could think about was how she told me how it takes a lot of stamina to get her off... and how her ex had A LOT of stamina. I was experiencing crippling performance anxiety. Of course I had no idea what that was at the time, and neither did she. She suspected I was gay and broke up with me.

I turned 22 a month later and I was desperate to lose my virginity. I found on craigslist a hetero couple that was looking for a virgin to break in. The woman had lost her virginity in a threesome and wanted to pass along the experience. First the boyfriend met me at the designated motel room to make sure I checked out for safety reasons. He was a very outgoing and muscular like a damn bodybuilder. In my head the intimidation factor was setting in. When she arrived she was so sweet and easy on the eyes I thought maybe I could turn my head around and follow through with this. We took our clothes off and got in bed.

She took my into her mouth and my cock began to swell. My heart was racing. This was finally going to happen. After putting a condom on me she turned around and spread her pussy open with her fingers. I moved forward and entered into another person. I immediately hated the fact that I was wearing a condom. It was a sensation leaps and bounds better than my right hand for sure. However, I could tell there was still an experience that I was missing out on by using a rubber. Snap out of it! Focus on what does feel good about it.

Her boyfriend was caressing her and squeezing her breasts with his insanely bulky arms. I was in really good shape, but nothing like this guy. I never directly looked at it, but his cock was within my peripheral and it was impossible not to notice it’s stiffness and size. How could I possibly satisfy a woman who’s used to being with that when I don’t even have any idea what I’m even doing? Feeling of being inferior crept into my mind and my sex drive powered down. In less than a minute intercourse my penis had loss the will to live.

After some frustrating attempts to get back what was lost I excused myself to the bathroom to try in private, out of sight of Arnold Schwarzenegger. During my futile struggle I could hear them in the other room, shaking the bed, headboard banging against the wall, her screaming with ever thrust... there was no way I was gonna get it up again at this point. After they finished we shared an awkward farewell and parted ways. As sideways as the affair went I still felt accomplished. I had lifted the veil concealing the secret world that the rest of the world lived in and I was finally a part of it. Sort of. Enough.

Months later I had a new girlfriend. She was a short black girl who had several partners before me and lost her virginity at a young age. Like always there was a legacy of past conquests I had to outshine, overcome, and outperform. Like with my first girlfriend we both lived with our parents and had nowhere private to go to try to have sex. There was so much sexual tension that we just parked the car on a curbside and had at it. Deja vu, I couldn’t get it up, but she didn’t give up like my first girlfriend did. About the third or fourth time on that curbside and I finally maintained enough wood to proceed to intercourse. Even though I was still using a condom I was able to orgasm with a partner for the first time. The next time on that curbside an officer came by and told us not to come back. We had sex when and where we could, but locations and opportunities were limited.

When she moved for college she was only an hour away and had her own bedroom. I drove up to be with her and experienced true freedom for the first time. We had a room all to ourselves with no fear of interruption or getting in trouble for being together. We even stopped using condoms, opting for me to pull out and cum on her instead or, if we were feeling really stupid, trusting her birth control and cumming inside her. I became addicted to condomless sex. We even fucked 12 times in a 24hr period once, but I’m sure we could have easily broken that record if we were actually trying.

Over the summer I started falling hard for a girl I worked with. Now, I had heard of polyamory before and considered that it might describe me. Although I had strong feelings for both girls I knew both were strongly monogamous, so it became a choice of one or the other. With how strongly I felt about the new girl I knew I had to choose her, and I broke the other girl’s heart. Over the summer I was deeply in love with this new girl. I dare say, to this day, I’m not sure if I ever loved anyone more than her.

I don’t know if the sex was mind-blowing because of how our bodies fit together or because of how madly in love with her I was. I suspect it was a lot of both though. It was undoubtedly the best sex I’ve had in my life. When she moved across the country for school we agreed to an open relationship. Although we had slightly different ideas of what an open relationship should be we agreed that sex with other people was okay.

I remember she told me she didn’t expect to be with anyone for a good long time after moving, that she’d remain satisfied for several months at least. A couple weeks later she admitted that she slept with someone for pot. That was a bit of a blow to my confidence, but I shrugged it off. I guess if it was just for pot than I wouldn’t be too offended by it. A few weeks later it was some other guy she slept with. Jealousy reared it’s ugly head.

It’s not difficult at all for an attractive girl to get laid. Guys... we have to try much MUCH harder, even if we’re fit and good looking (which I was). I decided to see if a girl I had a crush on at work would be interested in a fwb situation. She was indeed interested and I was no longer the sexless half of an ldr.

One day my girl across country (Let’s call her NY) told me about a guy who invited her and her friends to join him and his friends to his big city penthouse. She went into detail about how she slept with him and how he had the biggest dick she’d ever seen or had inside of her. My jealousy smashed through the roof when she told me that. Later that week when my fwb (let’s call her Boston) admitted to me that she was poly and wanted a more romantic relationship with me I jumped at the chance. At the time, in the moment, I mostly did it because of how jealous NY had made me. That being said, I did truly have deep feelings for her and was desperate to experience a real polyamorous relationship for once. Problem was NY wasn’t poly, and she was never okay with the arrangement.

In a form of counter-jealousy NY began to see her own fwb on a more personal basis. She would tell me about how muscular he was, how good he was in bed, how she and her roommate wanted to have a threesome with him (which was my greatest fantasy that I wanted to do with her), and how he had a real-people job and made real-people money and wore real-people clothes. Our jealous actions went tit for tat. Meanwhile I was trying to maintain a relationship with Boston. In hindsight I should have let NY go and focused on my relationship with Boston. Not only would that have made more logical sense, but I believe it would have been a much better outcome for everyone involved. Of course, that’s not what I did. In fact, I did quite the opposite.

Boston and I had a “mutual” breakup. I put mutual in quote marks because although we both verbally agreed to dissolve the relationship I’m fairly certain that neither of us really wanted to give up what we had. She moved soon after that to a new city and a fresh start. Meanwhile, I flew out to spend a week with NY to try to salvage the relationship, but the damage was done. In the end I lost two women who I loved very much and I spiralled into depression ashamed of my polyamorous nature.

Apparently I’m a bit demisexual and my sex drive towards a person builds as I become more familiar with them. Ergo, as I attempted a slew of one night stands I needed assistance in the form of a pill (now discontinued sadly). I decided fwb were more convenient as I didn’t want to always rely on pills for a good time and I successfully had a few fwb. With some the sex was uncomfortable and awkward, with others the sex was fantastic. One fwb developed into a relationship. She was an older woman (which I was more than happy about) with a healthy sex drive that I made some great bedroom memories with.

Although I really did love her my poly nature came out again as I began to crush on a classmate. My girlfriend, although not fully polyamorous, liked the idea of poly husbandry (her having multiple partners) so there was a polyamorous nature to her. However, I didn’t want to risk a prolonged attempt at a forced poly relationship that would only end in disaster (as I had experienced before), so I made the declaration that we were over. She accused me of giving up without giving her a chance to make the poly thing work, and she was right. I loved her. I should have given her the opportunity to try. Even if it would have been rocky for a while I think we really could have made it work, but we’ll never know since I pulled the plug. One more bullet point on my list of regrets.

I got involved with the classmate for the semester. She was the only girlfriend I ever regretted getting involved with. For starters I drastically downgraded from the quality of partner I’d just had. She was very much a leech, she wanted all of my attention and affection yet gave very little in return. Sex was all but non-existent. She consistently berated me and demanded way too much of my time. I was so relieved when I finally dumped her. After her there was one short lived fwb period before I met the girl I would marry (we’ll simply call her J).

I grew up knowing J but until now the age gap would have made a romantic relationship awkward. I became her first decent boyfriend and we moved our relationship very quickly. I honestly felt that I could be content being monogamous with J, so no longer would I bare the shame of polyamory. A year later as we were a week out from our wedding date she told me about a guy at her theater that she liked. However, her feelings for him didn’t make her feel anything less toward me, so she understood my polyamorous nature. We agreed that we would try at a polyamorous marriage.

Her boyfriend ended up breaking her heart badly. On top of that, she learned from her time with him (supposedly) that sex could be less painful and more enjoyable than it was with me, apparently. After that the rate that we had sex was greatly reduced, and she would ask me to cum quickly so she wouldn’t have to endure the pain, and we could only do it in a certain position. All of this just made me feel guilty for having sex with her like I was abusing her, so often I didn’t even want to try. I would have just gotten a fwb to relieve my sexual frustration with but I had just started showing genital warts and was told by the doctor that I’m stuck with it for a year then they’ll go away on their own.

A year passed and the warts were still there. Meanwhile J had a new boyfriend who she was having sex with all the fucking time. Even in our own apartment she was having sex with him way more than her and I were. For the three months before our lease ended while we never had sex even once it seemed as though they were having sex there daily. When our lease ended we were in debt and not able to afford the apartment on our own, so her boyfriend offered to rent a room to us, that way we could be close by all the time. It seemed like a win win at the time. We had no idea how badly every one of us was about to lose.

In the next couple months the jealousy and fear of being replaced by the boyfriend mounted. When she had a choice at the end of the day she almost always chose to be with her boyfriend. The ONLY time she ever spent the night with me was when she needed a break from sex. How fucking reassuring...

We eventually had a deep conversation where she basically told me that she realized that she didn’t love me the way she thought she did and that our marriage was over. We agreed to one last night together as partners without even attempting sex and she agreed. The next morning she woke up next to me in bed and went straight across the house to have sex with the boyfriend. That was the reality I woke up to. I broke in that moment. That was the most painful thing I’ve ever experienced in my entire life. She explained to me that she wasn’t thinking and just going through the routine. Honestly that made things worse. I was her partner for 3 years and I wasn’t even a part of her routine. I moved out that day. I stayed with my biological father until I got into my own apartment within the week.

I was surprised at how well I was doing from the seperation. I think a large part of me was unhappy in the relationship, but those were more logistical matters: the fact that she didn’t work yet would go on shopping sprees and the lack of sex being the two big complaints. But I loved her dearly. She was my best friend ever and I lost her because one day she woke up and just stopped loving me all of a sudden.

This separation happened about 2 months ago. Since then I’ve been trying to figure out how the hell I’m ever going to trust in the notion of love again. It seems no matter how much I believe someone loves me it could all be retracted in an instant. All my life I just wanted to find a love that would remain constant, someone who I love and who would love me til death do us part like the promise we made when we got married. The feeling is best summed up by the line in the song All Alright by fun., “I came back with the belief that everyone I love is gonna leave me.” The best I’ve been able to convince myself of is that she was simple too young and inexperienced to really know what she wanted. As long the next person who pledges their life-long love to me has been around the block and had some time to refine their needs then I should be alright.

A couple weeks ago I met a girl who may be just that. The timing with this new girl has been shit though. For starters, I’m still raw from my failed marriage. Add to that there is traveling partner of hers that just came back to town after our first date together, so naturally she’d trying to make the most of the time they have available to them. I’m not looking to yet again and so soon put myself in a situation where I’m feeling inferior to someone who seems to have a stronger connection to target of my own affections. I’ve hit the pause button on my feelings for her while he’s here so I don’t put myself through that while I’m still recovering from such a similar situation.

Aside from the divorce and her timing with her partner I’m still working on getting rid of the warts. Since I met her in joining the sex positive kink community it does indeed make me feel quite useless to her and anyone else I could potentially get involved with if I can’t even have sex. To top it off I am SO ready to have amazing sex again. At the moment even decent vanilla sex would be a marked improvement over the past 4 years. Once I get my green light that I’m clean and can be sexually active again I want to work on getting my sex life back to how good it once was... nay, better! It’s a goal I am looking forward to, but while I’m still enduring the warts the sexual tension is mounting to the point of nearly unbearable.

Luckily I know what the warts are and how best to treat them. It’s now a matter of keeping diligent with my treatment until they stay gone for good. I’m near the end of the road at least. The time period for them to naturally clear is approaching the max limit. On top of that, with my treatments, I’m down to only showing one or two at a time between treatments. When they are down to zero and stay down for a solid month then it’s a good sign that I’m clear. Three months clear would confirm that I‘m clear. So even if no more warts appear as of today I’m still looking at a 1-3 month wait before having sex. I don’t think I can hold out much longer.

Now, this post is about LOVE & SEX. I wrapped up sex first because I’m a hopeless romantic and I want the last takeaway to be on the topic of love since that is far more important to me. First I need to backtrack to include some information. While I was married a lot of friends and family found out about our being poly. Due to the judgemental religious nature of most everyone I know I have lost a lot of family ties and friends, some who were among my closest friends. Of those who don’t know yet I fear that they too would abandon me if they knew, and I feel as though I’ve lost them already. I’m currently down to one friend in this entire world who I can turn to and... get this... she got married the week after my wife and I seperated. Needless to say a guy getting divorced and woman who just got married makes for an interesting mix. We’ve been able to talk and hang out a couple times, but our ability to do so is limited.

So where does that leave me? The girl I’m crushing on is preoccupied with another partner, my only friend in this world is preoccupied with being a newlywed, my soon to be ex wife who I still consider a friend is taking time to discover herself and not talking to me. I have never felt more alone in my life. I am going stark raving mad in this apartment. I hate being single. I hate sleeping alone. I hate that I’m not content in my solitude. I fear that I have a codependent personality. I’ve been forced to acknowledge that I’m not as emotionally self-sufficient as I thought I was. I know we as humans are social creatures who strive for connections with others, but I don’t know if the degree of anxiety is a normal or an unhealthy amount. Is starting a new romance really the best thing or did I need to spend time to be comfortable with being totally alone. I just don’t know. I guess that was the whole point of this post was for me to evaluate where I’m coming from to try to figure that out. Now that I’ve gone this far and made it here... I still don’t know.

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stillbornphoenix-blog · 6 years

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The right thing.....

“All I know is that I know nothing” - Socrates

This is what I’ve come to learn from my experiences. I have always strived to do the right thing. As my experience accumulates I now wonder what doing the right thing really means or if such a thing even exists. They say hindsight is 20/20 yet I still seem to doubt every decision I ever made. Is doing the right thing choosing whatever brings the most desirable outcome or is it some ethically moral high road that demands self-sacrifice but adheres to some higher level of personal duty? Is the loss and pain that I’m enduring presently a result of doing the wrong thing, or the price paid for doing the right thing?

Ambivalence is the state of having mixed feelings or contradictory ideas about something or someone. It is my favorite word because no other single word is as relatable to me as this. For example: the courses of action laid before me now. Should I trust my instincts and go with whatever feels to be congruent with my nature or take a step back to consider and reconsider the consequences and repercussions of every possible outcome. I usually end up in a state of analysis paralysis, torn between two or more options, never committing. As a result I lose out on the opportunities presented, and I’m left here wondering...

Did I make a mistake by letting it all pass me by, or would I have wasted my time pursuing something that would have only resulted in failure and heartbreak...

and the wheel turns...

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stillbornphoenix-blog · 6 years

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Some like to sleep We like to play Just look at all that pain

Fake Your Death by My Chemical Romance

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stillbornphoenix-blog · 6 years

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Break the Cycle

“Let the past die. Kill it if you have to.” - Star Wars: The Last Jedi

I’ve been meaning to start something like this for a while, but of course it’s only late at night when I’m intoxicated and can’t sleep that I actually conjure up the nerve to follow through with it. I need some journal outlet to express how I feel. That sounds lame, at least to me it does, but I do feel it’s necessary at this stage of the game. I need a place to vent my feels, to unravel my thoughts, to bleed on a page if for no better reason than to see what comes out. Raw unedited passion shotgun blasted onto a blog post. So here goes, day one, 1st entry.

Where to begin? At this point there is so much history, so much that has happened to add to the sum of my experiences, but in the end I still have to no fucking clue what to make of it all. All I know is that I know nothing. Everything that seemed right ended up wrong. Everything I thought was true and certain was a fallacy. As a person with a scientific nature, I hold on to absolutes. I cherish that which remains constant. I love math. 1 plus 1 always equals 2, but these days I wonder if the sky is even really blue. Looking back at every decision I ever made, with the information I had at the time, I don’t see how there could have been any alternative course of action. All the same, it all turned out wrong.

“If I could change I would take back the pain I would Retrace every wrong move that I made I would If I could stand up and take the blame I would I would take all the shame to the grave” - Easier to Run by Linkin Park

I’ll try to start at the beginning, but I can sum up all of grade school in a single short paragraph. Even since kindergarten I was girl crazy. I was raised Christian by my grandparents, and naturally I was a goody little two shoes. These two facts came into conflict when puberty hit and I experienced lust for the first time, and it was so much more powerful than my faith. Yet, I fought it tooth & nail. For 8 years all I can remember was the shame I felt for viewing porn and masterbating.

“I feel the light betray me” - Papercut by Linkin Park

I was 19 and still never had a girlfriend, I was rejected by a good Christian girl for the reason that she didn’t want to be with someone who’d been with another girl before. But here’s the clincher: I’d never had a girlfriend before. After that bullshit excuse I decided that everything was going to change. I researched what it meant to be an alpha male and I did everything I could to become that, short of turning into an asshole. I lost 60lbs, cut my hair, embraced my sexuality, adopted a false bravado, and I’ll be damned... it worked!

At the age of 21 I finally had a girlfriend, and she was insanely hot! I couldn’t believe my luck. Some months went by and we finally had the chance to have sex for the first time. Problem was I couldn’t get it up. I didn’t understand it. When we were together and flirting, even in my pants I was always at full mast, but here with our clothes off and this happens? She quickly drifted away after that and I never got a second chance. She even bothered to tell me that she suspected that I was gay. Real shot to the confidence there.

After my first real breakup, and still a virgin after having just turned 22, I became desperate. I had learned about craigslist personals and found a hetero couple who were looking for a virgin to break in. I put my name in the hat and was chosen. We met at some shady motel downtown and got started. For about 45 seconds I was able to keep hard enough to technically lose the v-card, but I couldn’t maintain it. I excused myself to the bathroom where I tried to recover some wood. The couple did there thing in the room and we awkwardly parted ways afterward.

Around this time I first heard of polyamory, the ability to love and maintain more than one romantic partner openly and ethically. I actually came up with the concept in my late teens long before I’d even heard of it, but assumed that I was the only one who felt that way (as I thought with masterbation) and had dismissed the idea. More on poly later...

Some months later I had a new girlfriend. We both still lived with our parents, so finding an opportunity to have sex was problematic. We resorted to trying in the car, but I still had difficulty keeping hard. I’ve come to determine that it was due to performance anxiety since with both her and my ex I knew they had been with many partners before me, and I was left wondering how the hell and a newbie I was going to satisfy them. As I stayed and continued to try with the new girl I eventually got my confidence up and was able to have sex the way a normal male in his young 20s should. I was absolutely insatiable.

Roughly a year into the relationship I started falling hard... really REALLY hard for a girl I worked with. I began to realize that my feeling with the new girl were stronger than that of the the girl I was with. I didn’t want to lose who I was with, but at the same time I couldn’t not explore my feeling for this new girl. Having not yet adopted the polyamorous mindset, and being in love with two monogamous girls, I had to roll the dice and sacrifice the established relationship to explore the new one.

With this new girl I will say was the most I have ever been head over heels for someone in my entire life to this day. Not only was it the most personally connected I’d ever felt towards someone, it was also the best sex I’d ever had (not just up to this point, but up to this day). That lasted for a summer until she had to move far away for school. We tried long distance, but everyone knows how that goes. Top that off with an open long distance relationship. Considering we both had different definitions of an open relationship, it was beyond terrible.

Fact: cute girls have no trouble getting sex. Fact: guys, no matter how attractive, have to try much harder to accomplish the same. Before she’d been gone a month she’d already found a fuck buddy, and within another month yet another fuck buddy. Me, no such luck. Now, I need to sidebar here to explain that to her, an open relationship was only sexually open, yet to me and my polyamorous nature an open relationship included romantic feelings. While she was getting plenty of dick where she was (including, since she felt the need to tell me, the biggest penis she’d ever seen being inserted inside of her), I began to develop a crush on a coworker who turned out to be polyamorous herself. Had I not been balancing a doomed LDR at the time, this polyamorous girl and I could have probably lived happily ever after, but that’s not how the tale unfolds...

The girl afar and I became insanely jealous of each other. So naturally, she started seeing one of her FWB in a more romantic light. Instead of force my hand, I ended things with the poly girl and flew to where the LDR girl was to try to salvage the relationship, but it was too late. In the end I lost both amazing women. I still miss both of them dearly.

What followed was alcoholism, depression, and an awkward string of attempted one night stands and friends with benefits. One FWB developed into a relationship. That lasted a while, until I realized that I was suppressing my polyamorous nature though this woman wanted me all to herself. I ended things with her and broke her heart. She offered to try a polyamorous relationship, and in hindsight I should have taken her up on this cause she probably would have grown to be poly herself knowing her, but I never gave her the chance. Just one more cross to bear.

I jumped immediately into a relationship with a classmate which is the only relationship I’ve been in that I’d consider a “bad” relationship. That lasted a semester and then it ended.

Here I was single, depressed, living with my parents again, and suddenly my mind started fucking up. The depression had developed a negative effect on my brain and memory function. It was then that I decided that I wanted to get better. While I started thinking positively for the first time in years, I reconnected with a girl from church who I grew up with. The age gap while we were in school would have been awkward at the time, but now it didn’t make a difference. We became close, even to the point that I wanted to actually be monogamous with her. As we got closer to the wedding she went on about this guy at her theatre that she was becoming close with. A week before the wedding she asked if we could be polyamorous, and since I had yet to practice polyamory successfully I leapt at the chance and agreed.

We got married. Her boyfriend ended up being a royal asshole and broke her heart. She was never the same after that, and as a result WE were never the same after that either. She became distant as a wife, but still present as a friend. I figured it was just the pains of heartbreak and did my best to be a good husband and be there for her. We almost stopped having sex altogether since she said it was painful for her, but I loved her for more than just sex so I still did my best to be a good husband to her. She eventually found a new boyfriend who was a bit less of an asshole and that took off. When our lease ended, he offered to let us rent a room on his property until we could secure funds for a house and we were on board.

For two months we all lived under the same roof: me, my wife, and her boyfriend. In the second month, she basically told me that our marriage was over, and that she wanted to be monogamous with the boyfriend. On the last night we spent together I didn’t even try to approach her for sex, it just didn’t seem right. The next morning, on the last day of us as a married couple, on the day I’m going to move out, she woke up next to me in bed and went straight to the boyfriends room to have sex. That was the first thing I encountered when I woke up.

That moment broke me. No, that’s an understatement... that moment shattered me to the core. She apologized and explained that she wasn’t thinking and just “going through the motions” which honestly made me feel a million times worse that her own goddamn husband wasn’t a part of her “routine.” So I moved in with family and within a week had my own apartment. This was a little over a month ago as of writing this.

In the month and a half to follow leading up to present day, I have worked out and gotten into good shape, taken my first step into the kink/BDSM community, and even met someone. I have decided that I will only get involved with someone who is already polyamorous. I’m going to explore my kink side as well as let my sexuality thrive again since its been repressed for the majority of my life including the past 4 years.

I have lost almost all of my friends and family when it came out that I am polyamorous and/or that I was going through a divorce. When shit hit the fan, I was left with one recently acquired friend and one recently discovered family member left that I felt I could be open and myself with about matters. Even at that I feel cautious sharing certain things with them. Now I am living completely on my own for the first time ever... no family, roommates, or lovers... and it’s the loneliness that’s the killer.

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