Category Archives: Boundaries

Sunday Reclamation Affirmation

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I now affirm my power and my ability to channel it for the things that matter in my life.

I now affirm that I compromise in my life, but only on behalf of my core values and priorities.

Yummy dreams

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I’ve dreamed about you since I last saw you. I used to stare at you, for four years, I stared at you. We never talked- maybe once or twice. I’m not sure what exactly about you I lusted after. But I dream about you still. Always delicious dreams. You tease me in my dreams, like you did unknowingly when we were 16. Sometimes my dreams became raunchy group sex scenes with you and all of your friends from high school, but you and I still do not interact.

Last night, though, this time, when I saw you, I grabbed your hand and ran with you into an empty room. We kissed, you grabbed my body, feeling it for the first time. I jumped up, you held me, my legs wrapped around your back. I felt ecstatic. The charge was electric. I was so turned on and wanted you so badly.

J was in another place, another room. Knew what I was doing, and was excited to hear about it later. Two close friends appeared, laughing at my ecstasy.

We stopped kissing, your eyes told me that it couldn’t go any further because you have a girlfriend. “Dream me” cared, but didn’t want to. Wanted to disregard the ethics of the situation. But you were resolute and that was okay. I was still riding the joy from taking charge, grabbing you, having you follow, kissing you.

I have been noticing new energy in my life the past few days. I feel “on”- turned on, integrated, joyful even when I’m feeling sad. Our two sexy friends came over last night to celebrate a birthday, and it was magnificently delicious. I’m crushing hard on another beautiful friend, and I love that feeling. And then these dreams I have- it’s like I get to continue to feel that charge through my sleep. I love it.

Sensual Dreams

Feeling Like a Fraud

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This post has been brewing subconsciously and consciously for quite some time, so here goes.

I love talking about relationship diversity- it’s something I am really passionate about. I love talking with other people who are new to ethical nonmonogamy about “it all”: jealousy, cultural influences and norms, family of origin influences, compersion, boundaries and rules, communication skills, personality differences, identities, preferences, kinks, porn, feminism, and more. I could do it for hours and hours. I feel like I am supporting and contributing to an important cause, something that is changing our society for the better, and I feel proud to be part of the wave. I obviously love writing about ethically nonmonogamous/polyamorous relationships and all of their triumphs and pitfalls.

What I don’t love recently (the past six to twelve months) is another feeling that has come alongside all of the pleasant ones: that I am a fake.

I should specify: I don’t feel like an “ethical nonmonogamous fake.” J and I have had sexy fun times throughout this past year, and they’ve all been swell, as far as I can remember. Friends with benefits relationships and fuck buddy relationships are satisfying and fun and largely void of yucky emotions for me.

I feel like a “poly fake.” Though, calling myself a “poly fake” isn’t quite right, because I feel like I am capable of holding another relationship of depth and intensity and caring, and giving that relationship the time and energy and love it needs. And although not pertinent to my fakeness or not, J is obviously capable of supporting me in that.

What I question is my ability to ever be “good enough” at poly so that J can also truly experience having another relationship. I know how I felt and acted three years ago and two years ago and a year ago, and while my understanding of myself and my triggers and emotions has deepened significantly, I don’t know if I have had enough practice for getting skills under my belt to where I can actually sit with gross feelings and not bother J with them so much that he can actually function in another relationship.

I don’t know how he feels about this, truly. I don’t know if he’ll read this, and completely agree. I don’t know if he’ll read this, and remember past events differently than me.

I have said numerous times that I have made a commitment to him and to our relationship, and with that comes a commitment toward working through gross things in part so that I grow as a person and in part so that he has the relationship he wants and deserves. I come back to that commitment often, and I worry about whether it’s good enough.

Am I enough? With my shortcomings and past mistakes and past hurts? Is my striving toward independence and separation in our relationship enough?

I brought up this struggle in my women’s group recently. The response I received from most of the women there was a “levels” approach: have you taken things slowly enough? Have you asked for specific boundaries and worked up to more challenging situations? You’ll make it to the next level eventually!

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I appreciated my one dear friend’s response: maybe there are no “levels.” We’re not playing a “poly video game” in which you have to “win” each level in order to proceed. Maybe there is no hierarchy of “poly”ness. There’s just you, and your comfort levels, and your path.

I weigh those different approaches in myself, and I know that for me it’s both: I like to proceed slowly, to know that I get to have a say in how my comfort levels are tried and tested, to know that my partner(s) will respect my discomforts and work with me to grow. I also know that as of yet, I am not some expansive blossoming flower of pure flowing love, able to completely and freely give up a relationship if it needs to go away. I know myself, and I know my sticky spots; I have lots of them. I also know I am afraid of having my fears go away completely: what would that life look like and feel like?

My counselor today, after talking to me about how my body image disorder is exacerbated by being around more naked people as a result of our open relationship, asked me how I deal with anxiety when J is dating other people. And she asked me, rhetorically, if it was healthy to do something that causes me so much anxiety. Immediately I withdrew from her, because the question reeked of poly-misunderstanding and phobia. Good grief! I am here to face anxiety related to my body! How can I not use a similar approach for to my relationships?? So that was not super helpful.

I guess this post is just my continuous self-reflection: my comfort levels change slowly, and that’s okay. I’m trying to focus on relaxing, working on my self-confidence and letting go of personal insecurities, and being grateful for how life changes. I don’t need to feel like a fraud, but I guess welcoming those feelings will help me move through them.

Cuddling

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My first introduction to the word “polyamory”: we were sophomores in college, and I was helping J move settle in to his new dorm room. Because he was an RA, he was responsible for hanging up flyers on the bulletin boards. One of them proclaimed “Berkeley Polyamory Club! Cuddle Puddle Party!” We laughed uncomfortably, made fun of it. A cuddle puddle? What the heck??

Recently I went on a date with someone whose community consists of folks who actually do have cuddle puddle parties on a regular basis. It sparked some deeper thinking around why the community I am part of and build seems averse to non-sexual touch and physical closeness. I know in the past it’s made me uncomfortable, but largely because I have been unsure about what it would mean: will they think I want to have sex? What if I don’t want to have sex? Will it mean that J and they will have sex? How will I feel if that happens? However, taking sex out of the equation makes cuddling and touching my close friends sound really amazing.

Last night some of our best friends came over to help us paint and install ceiling fans. I was exhausted at the end of my Friday (I fell asleep on my yoga ball at work, and woke up as I was about to fall off), but from the minute they walked in the door my energy perked up, and we talked and worked and hung out until midnight. And after sharing my thoughts with them about nonsexual cuddling, I noticed that we began touching more. And I liked it. I like feeling like I can cuddle up next to someone, and that hugging doesn’t need to lead to anything more. It can just be a cuddle or a hug.

I am really curious as to whether, how, or why I may bring this to the table for any future parties/get-togethers I/we have. I don’t know if it has just been me in the past that is closed off to touch, or if there are others. I’d basically love to experiment with a cuddle puddle party: cuddling, massaging, hugging, but no sex. It sounds liberating and connecting.

I’m not sure exactly why it has taken me as long as it has to come to this light-bulb moment (that I can touch someone and be touched without it leading to sex)- perhaps part of it is because we have dated or slept with a number of our close friends, and I don’t want to confuse the relationship. But I guess that’s where explicit communication comes in :)

Do you like cuddling/touching your close friends? Why am I so late to the game?

What Does it Mean to Be Monogamous?

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I was reading my friend’s recent blog post (Question: Can being monogamish help you be monogamous?) and it inspired this post. Thanks Lo! :)

I think it is worth taking some power away from language at times, and in the case of “monogamy” and “monogamous,” it’s time to share the power. Why does the word hold so much weight and meaning and emotion? That’s obviously a long conversation that gets into religion, patriarchy, purity, virginity, etc. But why does it still have to hold that kind of weight?

We were talking with some friends recently about whether choosing to have a nonmonogamous or polyamorous relationship is actually devolving from monogamy- whether somehow we might be giving up an evolved aspiration to be monogamous. My response to that train of thought is generally: humans are rarely “monogamous,” and over the course of time that humans have been around, I don’t think our species has ever been largely monogamous. And yet the word remains and gets thrown around with so much importance.

In order to take away some of its power, I think it would be helpful to talk about monogamy in different ways. Here are some different definitions that I have read, heard of, thought of. Some of these overlap/mean the same thing:

-Monogamous: one sexual partner for life

-Socially monogamous: a couple presents as sexually/romantically/emotionally monogamous to their larger community but in practice has other partners, rules, boundaries, etc.

-Emotionally monogamous: a couple retains certain boundaries around their emotional and romantic connection, but leaves the door open for other sexual partners/encounters

-Sexually monogamous: a couple retains sexual exclusivity, although they may have leeway for developing deep emotional relationships with other people

-Serial monogamy: one sexual/romantic partner at a time

-Monogamish: a couple behaves monogamously most of the time, with exceptions given for certain behaviors/events (a once-a-year threesome, traveling out of town one night stand, etc.)

The interesting thing to me about the term “monogamish” (coined by Dan Savage) is that it offers the privileges of monogamy to couples and helps couples retain couple privilege while also allowing them to explore the expansiveness of nonmonogamy, albeit with many limitations. I don’t know how I feel about that privilege piece, from a macro perspective. It gives me a similar feeling as those who are bisexual and choose not to come out because, since they are partnered to someone of the opposite gender, don’t have to. To essentially practice nonmonogamy and yet retain the privileges of a monogamously presenting couple is troubling- when will we all realize how many of us don’t fit into the mainstream ideal of a lifelong Disney relationship? And when will nonmonogamy become more mainstream? Perhaps “monogamish” relationships are part of how nonmonogamy will enter the mainstream, though- maybe it’s just what the nonmonogamous community needs to become more respected and recognized. What do you think?

In terms of the question that my friend received on her blog- what do you think? Can practicing “a little” nonmonogamy help you stay monogamous? Is that even possible? Can you really consider yourself monogamous if you aren’t really practicing monogamy? I think this is where the term “social monogamy” is helpful, although I don’t really know :)

Picking Your Third

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My latest DA post is live: “How to Pick Your Third for a Threesome“

Read on for my intro:

“You and your partner are ready to dive into some sexual explorations and want to invite another person into your bedroom. Who should you pick?

When J and I invite people into our bedroom, we do so based off some broad principles (which we have talked about before inviting others into our bedroom, and in some cases, figured out together after a disappointing experience).

1. Are we both attracted to the person?

Even if we are going to have an MFM in which J and the other man are not sexually into one another, it’s still important that J be intellectually and mentally connected to the other man.

Determining if we both dig someone else’s vibe, physically and energetically, is an important first step.”

Do you have certain criteria for inviting someone into your bedroom for a threesome?

Smoldering

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My heart dropped to my stomach, and the butterflies started.

“Hi!”

I am accustomed to saying hi to people when I am standing naked or half-naked in my club. But all of a sudden I was completely aware of every inch of my nakedness.

“Hi” he smiled. He looked the same as before, but even better.

All of a sudden my Saturday became infinitely more interesting and appealing and exciting. My insides went haywire, my nervous energy went through the roof, my desires electrifying me. As the only customer I had ever had that I would see outside of the club romantically, my usual calm was replaced by smoldering heat.

We sat down at the bar.

“How have you been? I haven’t seen you in forever.”

It was true. Last July was the last time, and we both knew it. The summer heat and the chemistry between us had culminated in an erotic time in the private dance room. I had given him free dances because I wanted to be there longer. I mostly sat on his lap, grabbing onto his hair, staying close. It was extremely hot. And then he had left, almost fled, really. And I didn’t see him again, and didn’t know if I ever would again. Until today.

We chatted. I filled him in on my school and work adventures, and then he said:

“I had to reign myself in after that last time I was here. I actually had a girlfriend then and still do… I was afraid that it would have gone further if I didn’t keep myself from coming back in to see you.”

I nodded, unsurprised, unphased. Many people who come in are partnered, and it’s just part of the business. People often want a pseudo girlfriend or to find a fantasy. I fill the role as I please, knowing that the club is as far it goes.

He, however, was afraid that I would be offended that he hadn’t told me the truth. I wasn’t, which he found to be a gracious offering.

My nervous energy continued to ebb and flow, and I found a piece of me totally deflated. Sad. Hungry for the connection that couldn’t be satisfied. Was he coming in as a test to himself? To see if he could leave after one beer? Or two? Or three? During my third set of the time he was there, he finally moved from the bar to the table closest to the stage. When I got off, he said:

“Well it’s confirmed. I can’t resist you. I have to make the executive decision to leave. I have to leave. I have to leave right now.”

My bumbling, fumbling, horribly awkward self was barely able to make coherent conversation while he had been there, and all of a sudden I found myself with even fewer words to hold onto. It was like trying to pick up a bar of soap in the shower, or taking off a wet swimsuit. Horrible and aggravating.

He left after a hug and I didn’t even get a way to stay in touch with him. No number, no last name, nothing.

I had asked earlier, “Will I ever see you again?”

To which he replied: “I don’t know.”

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When Fantasies Hurt

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I have seen a few different search terms in my stats that indicate people are searching for resources around what to do when a particular fantasy is hurting their relationships. I think the idea behind this scenario is that a partner has shared a fantasy with you and perhaps now you feel insecure about yourself or your relationship and maybe you wish you didn’t know about the fantasy. Maybe your partner is so insistent on sharing the fantasy, or even making it materialize, that you are closing yourself off from your partner and are starting to feel like you are sexually incompatible.

That is a tricky, and probably painful, situation. What do you do?

First, I think it’s important to recognize that everyone has fantasies. We probably have different fantasies, but we are entitled to our own. They are ours, just like our feelings and thoughts are our own. Try cultivating your sense of independence around your fantasies and work on respecting your partner(s)’s imaginative boundaries as well.

Second, it can be helpful to view the sharing of fantasies as an intimacy-building component of a relationship. Viewed from this light, when a partner shares a fantasy, they aren’t doing it to make you feel less-than or insecure about yourself or your relationship, but because they feel close enough and safe enough with you to share a vulnerable part of themselves. It could even be viewed as a form of coming out, depending on how deeply someone has held onto a fantasy, and how much it makes up their sexual identity.

Third, it could also be helpful to work on assessing your own sexual intelligence and your ability to be GGG (Dan Savage’s acronym for good, giving, and game), in addition to your sexual soft and hard boundaries. Is the fantasy initially squicky to you? Can you imagine indulging it in some way, in some circumstances? Are you willing to talk about it or try it? Is it something that is absolutely non-negotiable to you?

Fourth, I think that Dan Savage has it right regarding the idea that people deserve to evaluate relationships not just based on traditional compatibility measures (personality, finances, living, kids, religion, etc) but on sexual compatibility as well. Try thinking of sex as a distinct category that you can use in evaluating your relationship with someone. It doesn’t make you shallow or ungrateful to evaluate a relationship based on your sexual compatibility: it makes you honest and it shows you are invested in assessing the long term sustainability of a relationship. (Obviously, determining how important a sexual incompatibility issue is to you is important in this as well. Maybe the sexual incompatibility isn’t that important to you, and maybe it’s a huge deal. Only you can answer that.)

Fifth, approach your partner with your honest feelings and thoughts around the fantasy sharing and start brainstorming possibilities for moving forward. Is the fantasy triggering some insecurities for you? What do you need from your partner? Do you need your partner to stop sharing the fantasy with you? Do you simply need some emotional reassurance? Would it be helpful to have some boundaries around sharing- for instance, we can talk about the fantasy a few times a week, and other times need to be reserved for other erotic play/talk?

Lastly, if the fantasy is taking up a large amount of space in your relationship (maybe it’s turned into a “third partner”) and it’s not a presence you want at all in any way, maybe it’s time to come to terms with the fact that you are not sexually compatible and move on to more compatible relationships. (And: if your partner is pushing you to do things that you are not comfortable with, that is another flag that your relationship is not sustainable. If you are uncomfortable, that is a sign that the fantasies may not be for you and maybe that your partner is not respecting your feelings and boundaries, which is not a healthy or satisfying way to be in relationship with someone.)

I’ll say for myself that J and I have gone through a little bit of this. Not in terms of really sharing fantasies that hurt one of us (at least to my knowledge) but in carving out specific times for specific kinds of erotic play (“we’ve talked about that a lot this week, I want to talk about this other fantasy tonight”). I have also had flashes of jealousy before in hearing some of J’s fantasies, but those feelings have largely been founded in fears that the fantasy would turn into reality and feeling like I wouldn’t be able to handle it right then. When I can ground myself in the moment and see the hotness of his fantasy myself, I have calmed myself down quite a bit, and been able to enjoy our erotic sharing (and, am also able to emotionally calm down over the long run with the confidence that I could handle it if the fantasy turned into a reality).

Have you ever shared a fantasy that has hurt your partner in some way? Have you ever been hurt by a partner’s fantasy? How have you negotiated that?

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Unprotected Sex with Multiple Partners

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From my experience and what little data is out there, the ethically nonmonogamous population experiences fewer STIs than the monogamous/unethically nonmonogamous population. Talking about who you are getting sexy with and how you protect yourself are key to staying healthy and seeking care when necessary. When people are consenting to nonmonogamy, this necessitates transparent communication around safer sex practices (birth control used, and ways of circumventing STI transmission, including barrier methods, proper cleaning of toys and hygiene, and regular STI testing). Knowing the safer sex practices of your partners also allows you to give a fully informed “yes” to engaging in a sexual relationship with your partners.

What happens when you have unprotected sex with multiple partners? Is it stupid? Or irresponsible to yourself and others?

People enjoy unprotected sex for a number reasons, which may include the sensation, psychological feeling of closeness and intimacy, or eroticism from having intermingled fluids. It may signal a level of trust within the relationship. For some, it may signal primacy for a relationship. Unprotected sex may also be called condom-free sex or fluid-bonded sex.

An important consideration is the varying levels of risk associated with different types of protected and unprotected sex. I have linked to this chart before, but it was a while ago, so I thought it would be fine to link to it again; I really like it! : STD Risks Chart. I also really like this website: So They Can Know

While I have been impressed and inspired with the level of communication and knowledge within my open community surrounding STIs, birth control, and protected/unprotected sex, it always surprises me (well, not anymore really) that male condoms are always used for vaginal intercourse, but rarely are dental dams or male condoms discussed as options for oral sex. It’s true that eating pussy is relatively low-risk, and I do think a number of people in my community have calculated the risks and decided that getting tested and talking about STI results, doing visual inspections, and using male condoms for vaginal intercourse are enough safety measures for them (that’s pretty much J and I’s routine).

For me, unprotected sex makes sex an intimate act, even when it’s with a new female partner who I may not be as emotionally intimate with. With nothing separating our bodies and fluids, it automatically makes me feel psychologically and emotionally closer to that person.

I was taking a wellness quiz yesterday, and when I answered that I had had unprotected sex with multiple partners in the past six months, it put my answer in a red box with a warning that this was HIGH RISK. I felt my heart rate rise a bit! It’s true that having unprotected sex with multiple partners puts me at a higher risk of contracting STIs than if I had unprotected sex with only one person (even counting female partners). I also think that it’s worthwhile to think about my true risk of contracting an STI, based on my history and record, and other safer sex practices.

How do you feel about having unprotected sex with multiple partners? How do you mitigate risk from being sexually nonmonogamous?

Sunday Reclamation Affirmation

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This week I want to focus on reclaiming my sense of self, wholeness, and aloneness. Being truly peaceful with myself as a solitary individual allows me to be authentically peaceful and loving when I move into my partnership(s), friendships, and larger community. Being alone used to legitimately freak me out; I simply equated it with loneliness, and being left or forgotten about or excluded from something.  As I have gotten older and had the experiences that I have had, it has become more and more clear to me that I enjoy being alone- quite a bit actually.  Feelings of exclusion are still challenging for me to fight off, but focusing on what I gain from understanding my aloneness and how I can cultivate and capitalize on my aloneness helps me move through my life more independently and confidently.

I now affirm that I will always be alone, and that I will always be okay.

I now affirm that I can assert my boundaries, and that I will still be loved.

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