DAY 97

I think it’s time to reminisce about another ex-man. There’s only like 3 significant men in my life left to talk shit about. I knocked the other few out pretty fast. The last 3 are the ones that are most difficult for me to re-hash. I’m saving the hardest for last. The one I’m going to talk about in this blog is A.

Before I get to A, I’ll establish some back story. I was moving from my hometown to a new city. I was leaving behind some of the best friends I’ve ever had there for a new life where there would be more career opportunities for me. The friends I was leaving behind mostly came from this club I joined, full of super progressive, non-religious, non-traditional people. This group of friends were the first people to introduce the concept of polyamory to me. I’d never heard of it before and was pretty sure I would hate that. I didn’t think I was capable of sharing anyone because, despite being a side chick to a number of guys who had been cheating on their girlfriends with me, I wanted to be someone’s only love. But the idea did intrigue me. I just think I needed more time to learn and understand it.

When January 1st of 2014 hit, I packed up a huge chunk of my shit and moved in temporarily with my sister and nephew. I was going to spend this time living with her looking for a job. I spent day in and day out on the couch, curating my Graphic Designer portfolio and watching the jobs boards. But all this time alone was getting me really sad. I binged watched all of Skins and grew depressed, since that show has some fucked up scenarios, and I knew I needed to get out of the house.

I had a few friends here and there in the city from University, but I was determined to make new ones. I joined two different meetup groups and tried to integrate. One was an atheist club, however, I was a 22 year old single girl trying to become friends with 30-50 year old married people, and I didn’t feel overly welcomed, despite showing up to a number of events. I eventually abandoned that club and showed up to another one called the “Nerd Club.” It’s possible that this club and another group of people had overlapped their time at this particular bar, because when I asked if this was the “nerd” club, they said “no, this is a Social Club…” Either way, I took part in a game of pathfinder and met a guy I’ll call D. D immediately was interested in becoming friends, so we exchanged numbers and started hanging out. It was from then on that I integrated into this new group of friends.

One night, D asked me to come play pool and ping pong at an underground pub with some friends. When I arrived, I took immediate notice to a tall, loud and confident man cracking jokes. His name was A. I knew right away that I was attracted and curious. I listened to him joke and made really solid eye contact. He met mine as well, and I could tell, just a gut feeling, that A was feeling what I was feeling by the way he looked at me. When you know, you just know, you know?

I agreed to go bowling on Valentine’s Day with D and the group of friends, hoping secretly that A would be there. And he was.... with his, shocker, girlfriend. This short, pretty girl with perfect hair was by his side, looking a lot hotter than me. This was my curse. I always find myself attracted to taken men. EVERY FUCKING TIME. Damn. It. Maybe I was wrong, maybe I’d read his vibe incorrectly the first time we met.

I couldn’t say I was surprised, because this sort of thing happened to me a lot. I was going to let it go and hope D had some other single, beautiful guy friend I could distract myself with.

I added a number of the people in the group as Facebook friends, including A. And he started messaging me. All the time. This was a delight for me, because in a way, it confirmed for me that this guy was intrigued by me. Our conversations were fun, flirty and silly, full of jokes and teasing. Even if he wasn’t available, we could still be friends. I was capable of being friends with guys I’m attracted to, I’m not gonna fuck this up this time.

Then, one night while watching the Bachelor, as is my tradition, which I will NEVER QUIT, A came over to watch it with me. I was surprised he wanted to hang out with me like this, one on one, but also home alone, while my sister and nephew were out of town. He came over in about 20 minutes and joined me on the couch. It was kinda intimate. He wasn’t acting all snarky about the show, like I expect from most men. Instead of judging me for enjoying the Bachelor, he joined in on the mockery, and it was a blast. I can’t stand when people feel the need to talk shit about it without having ever given it a chance, because just about everyone who gives it a chance gets sucked in. 24 seasons, and running, you guys. Entertainment gold. It’s a love/hate relationship.

Something became clear to me. A wasn’t here to be a just a friend. He was looking at me again, with this desire. Everything about our hang out was dripping in sexual tension. But I wasn’t going to go there again, especially in a new friend group where I wanted people to like me. So I asked him about his girlfriend. And then he says it.

They’re open.

Open. It all made sense now. He was allowed to be here, and he was allowed to see me. It wasn’t before long that we started making out and I let go of my fears. I hadn’t explored anyone who was open before, just a lot of cheaters. So it felt really freeing to not feel ashamed about our connection.

I chose that night not to have sex with him. I still needed to think on this open thing. I hadn’t been sure about polyamory before but this was a chance for me to try it. If I wanted to explore whatever this was with A, I would be allowed to. It just meant that there would be someone else in his life that I had to consider. Was I going to be okay with sharing?

But why wouldn’t I be? I had already shared a couple of men with other women before and in all honesty, didn’t mind the sharing. What was more bothersome was the lying and sneaking around. And if they were open, there would be no need for it.

Open is not the same as polyamory, at least not by the definitions I was aware of. But I wasn’t about just being a fuck buddy. I wanted to be romantic. I wanted love. And if I was going to explore any further with A, I had to make it clear. I would not engage in just being friends with benefits, I needed a lot more than that. When I approached A with this idea, he said he would discuss it with his girlfriend. I’m going to call his girlfriend R.  

I met with A after his discussion. He invited me over, and I was shaking. Was it going to be allowed? A real relationship?

The verdict: Yes. I couldn’t really believe it. It wasn’t the answer I was expecting. I was so ecstatic. I asked him if this meant I could call him my boyfriend. He said yes. He was going to call me his girlfriend. So this is how it works… This is how you get into a relationship! (Honestly, I’ve struggled with getting from dating to a relationship and understanding how that happens, so it always intrigues to consider when it did happen, how).

Everything was amazing. A and I were a good fit. She was his brunette, and I was his blonde. I was super fake blonde at the time, and he almost seemed to fetishize that about me.

We had so much fun. Some small moments we had were:

1. We danced in the street a couple times, to no music. Just stopping suddenly, and he would grab my hand and spin me around and dip me, seemingly out of nowhere in front of total strangers. I was a ball of goo over it.
2. Once, we were talking down the street and met a random guy who wanted to rap for us. We look at each other and nod. Hell yeah! He rapped this absolutely brutal song for longer than I had the patience for, but A was so cool and gave the guy some change.  
3. We got into a debate about whether we can trust our memory, and I was on the side that no, you can’t trust your memory. This debate scared our friend C (who today is one of my best friends) that when I went to the washroom, she asked A if we were gonna break up. He told her no, not to worry. When I came back, we went back to normal and loving on each other and it was like wow… That was a huge realization for me. That you should be able to disagree and not have it turn into a giant fight, like it used to turn into with my ex, D.
4. One day, we both had a really bad day. I don’t remember exactly the details of this hangout, but we were walking in the rain and talking shit about people, and I just really felt close to him. I know it’s rude to talk badly about people, but I felt safe telling him my honest thoughts, and didn’t feel like I had to put on a “nice girl” filter around him. I felt free to be myself without fear he would be put off. He liked that side of me.
5. I showed him this really cute video from College Humour that talked about dads. Something triggered in him, and he started crying. We were somewhat tipsy so that might have had something to do with it, but he got emotionally thinking about his own dad. I didn’t know much about the history of his family, but I imagine that it was just feeling love, and forgiveness towards his dad for not being perfect. And unlike many women who think men crying is “weak,” I actually love when my cry, and find it super endearing. I love soft bois, you guys. Men with empathy is my kink.
6. I was really into drawing, and created this comic book character named Neutrina. She had the power of neutrinos and could pass through any object. A loved this, and decided to run away with a whole story. He loved to write, and started obsessing over a backstory. Together, we started this fun little story about how Neutrina was a cat burglar and the only person who could stop he was this guy who would create a particle so dense, she couldn’t pass through it. It was so much fun.

When it came to our polyamory, there were a number of more unique situations.

A wanted to do stand up comedy. Both R and I wanted to support him, so we both went. We hadn't spent a lot of time around each other, but we would have to this time. I was nervous, but in all honesty, I thought it went super well. They showed up together and I showed up a bit later. We all sat at a table together with a few others. I didn't know what was appropriate but the last thing I wanted to do was get R upset, so I didn't pull any PDA in front of her. A goes up and he does alright. Some of his jokes land, some don't and he gets off early. He felt like it was bad, but it's SUPPOSED to be bad. Every stand up comic starts out bad and learns. I think he did great, personally. By the end of the night, things felt good. I was so relieved to have had a successful group experience with R there. I really left that whole situation feeling really good about how things were going.

We went camping together. I was nervous about this because if R came, I didn't know how we were going to work it all out, but she didn’t end up going, so I got to enjoy the weekend without the weirdness of trying to balance our time. But there was still some other weirdness. He ended up making out with another girl camping, while I was asleep in the tent. When he came to join me, he told me about it right away. I felt a pang of jealousy. He asked me how that made me feel. I told him it was a little weird, only because it felt like he waited till I wasn’t around and told me after instead of before, but obviously these things aren’t planned so it wasn’t a big deal. I let it go. We also talked about the hierarchy in our relationship for the first time. He said R was his primary and I was his secondary, and that my needs would come second to hers. This sort of shocked me because we should have talked about it at the very beginning of our relationship, not 2 months in. But I let it go because I naively believed that R wasn’t ever going to step on my toes. The next night, I got drunk, and together, we discussed their kiss. I talked about it with her and told her it was okay, because she was feeling incredibly guilty about it. As the night progressed and we got into drunk territory, I decided that I wanted to see it, with my own eyes. Them kiss. We were having a good time and I bring it up and make it clear it’s okay. They ask me over and over and I say yes, do it. And once they did, I got this weird sort of… rush. Like, I liked it. It made me both jealous, AND turned on. The jealousy was this sort of feeling like, man, my guy is hot shit. Look at how he kisses. I think there’s a weird part of me that likes to feel jealous. Like the person I’m with is desirable. We hooked up a LOT that weekend, and by the end we were so disgusting, there were no showers. But still, at the end, when he dropped me off at home, I was sad because I genuinely didn’t want to be apart from him. He just made me so happy and I felt okay about this thing I’d agreed to, despite being a bit on skeptical side in the beginning. Polyamory is something I can do and not something I compromised myself for.

Another weekend, he came with me to my hometown. He met my parents. We went to a Harry Potter themed party. He was Gryffindor, and I was Hufflepuff (although it turns out that all along, I’ve actually been a fucking Ravenclaw… Kinda changed my life but I digress) We played a house cup game with the entire party. He went off and socialized with my friends and I socialized with my team, which was fun. I’m not super needy so we didn’t spend a whole lot of time at the party talking to each other, but we’d come and find each other and see how our nights were going. He ended up making out with at least two different other girls that night. It bothered me a lot less this time, especially because these were my friends and they weren’t really going to get attached to him. Welll.. Shouldn’t. I myself was flirting with another guy at the party, who was VERY skeptical about me and A. He obviously wanted to make out with me but felt deeply uncomfortable knowing my boyfriend was so close by. It took so much convincing, even A had to be like “dude, fucking kiss her!” This guy was like 21 so he was a little bebeh, totally new to this lifestyle. I reassured him some more, and pointed out my boyfriend with another girl, before he agreed that this wasn’t going to blow up in his face.

At one point, A was making out with this other girl on one couch, and me with this guy on the other and it was the strangest experience. The guy still seemed to be struggling with what was happening, like it was breaking his brain. We stop kissing, and A stops making out with the other girl as well.

The sun was rising, and we hadn’t slept at all. We were cuddling on opposite couches. I get up and go to the washroom, and as soon as I come out, A comes up and grabs me and says “Let’s get out of here.” We both leave the party and tell each other our stories and about how much fun it all was. He said he felt like my friend was really putting on the pressure and he wasn’t overly into her, and he was missing me, but saw that I was having fun with the other guy and didn’t want to interrupt. He said the same thing about watching me kiss someone else. He was kinda jealous, but he liked seeing it and it made him want me more.

The last poly-related thing that came up before the untimely end was when we went to a party with his (and mine) friends. There was a girl there who I didn’t know who was clearly interested in A right from the get-go. You can just see it in the way someone looks at someone. As per usual, we did our own thing at the party. But I was getting annoyed this time. A hadn’t come around much at all the whole night and spent the great majority of it talking to this girl. I didn’t know her so I didn’t feel great about it. I didn’t feel like she knew I was his girlfriend. I just needed her to know. Had he mentioned it to her? I didn’t get that sense and felt this insecurity that I wasn’t being given enough attention to match what he was giving her.  

We get into his car at the end of the night and he asks me if I’m okay. I reassure him, yes, I’m fine. And in the moment, I was, because we were going home together, and she wasn’t in the way anymore.

But the next day, I had to say something. I texted him. “I wanna talk to you about something but it can wait till tomorrow. It’s not a big deal.” It really wasn’t a big deal. But I felt like I just needed to quickly address it and move on.

But within seconds, he called. He knew. I had to give him credit for knowing because the amount of men who are completely emotionally inept is astounding. I love when a man can tell I’m upset before even I know I’m upset. It can seem like a challenging thing to some dudes, but I have dated a number of men who have acquired this skill, including A, and another, C, so it’s a thing. It’s something most women can do but fewer man can. I know it’s not their fault entirely because or hormones or whatever, but it would be nice if more men worked on this rather than being super dumbfounded about how their behaviour can affect other people.

I admit to him that I wasn’t completely comfortable with how little attention he gave me at the party compared to this other girl who I had never met and didn’t know anything about. He apologized and said he had a feeling that that’s what was wrong. He was going to address it later eventually so we could discuss how to balance our attention when we are out together. Really, I didn’t need him to focus on me all night, but I needed to feel like these other women knew I was his girlfriend, and that no matter what, he and I were going to go home together. If I wasn’t there, it wouldn’t be a big deal for him to focus on some other girl, but because I’m there and this is on “our time” (because we only get so much time together a week), I needed a little more than I got. I really appreciated that. I didn’t want poly to be this thing where I was forced to ignore my feelings all the time and have my boundaries pushed to the point where I’m expected to be okay with every kind of situation. I never wanted to control him with my feelings either, but I just wanted to know that I still had value to him and my feelings were valid, even when he’s focussing on someone else. That I’m still being respected, and considered and treated fairly. But I would come to realize fairness wasn’t ever really going to be a thing in any poly relationship.

Naturally as a relationship goes, my feelings for A got much deeper. I was falling hard for this man. Things were just kinda perfect, in that sort of “honeymoon” phase where the sun shines out of his ass. So when things went to shit, I did NOT see it coming.

I was out partying with some friends, and knew his apartment was close. He was in bed, sleeping, so I called and asked if I could stay the night. He said yes, and I stumbled drunkenly over. We curl up in bed, and chat. And something came over me. I was ready to tell him.

“I’m really falling for you.”

He stops me abruptly. “What?”

“Yeah… is that okay?”

He wasn’t happy. In fact, he seems almost... Cold. He tells me that this wasn’t a part of our relationship. I look at him in the dark, astounded. Did he NOT know what the definition of polyamorous was? So I tell him. “Poly” means multiple. “Amory” means love. Dude. Seriously. How did you not know that?

He said that when he and R agreed to this whole thing, she asked him to promise that he was going to reserve all of his love for her. I was shocked. I pulled away from him and sat up. I couldn’t believe it. How dare he not tell me that? That’s 100% something I needed to know before I agreed to being in a relationship. Also, how DARE he even agree to such an idiotic impossible rule?!

I told him that I would NEVER agree to date him if I knew that was what I had agreed to. After all we had been through, meeting my parents, camping together, all the cute dates, spinning me in the street, writing a comic book together, bragging about his TWO girlfriends to everyone... What in the fuck did he think this all was?

He started crying, and admitted that he should have told me and it killed him to hurt me like this. He was going to talk to R tomorrow about all of this.

It had completely ruined my night. It was bad. He left for work early in the morning, and I took a cab home. I was shook.

Later that night, he had a party. I had been planning on going but I wasn’t feel particularly excited or up for it. When I got there, within the first 5 minutes, he met me in the stairwell to talk to me about what R said. It was bad. He was very upset. He didn’t want to cancel the party on the day of but they had been fighting all day. She threatened to break up with him because of my feelings. He was devastated because he didn’t want to lose her. I felt totally crushed. All because I opened my heart to him, he was going to lose her. I thought that it was all so dramatic and stupid. I didn't see why should couldn't share him with me like we had been doing all along. We were doing so well, and she was already primary, so what's the fucking matter?

Instead of staying at the party, I just got back into my car. Instead of going right home though, I called my ex, D. You might remember that fucker... But I was thankful I had someone to talk to. D really did care and listened to me talk. He let me be angry, and hurt. He gave me advice and kept me feeling less alone.

A said he needed a few days, but we would talk.

3 excruciating days later, I received the shitty news that I had to move out of my apartment in 3 months. I showed up at A’s apartment with a long letter in hand, full of all my thoughts and feelings about how much I cared about him and that I didn’t want to lose him. If you couldn’t tell, I like to spill my tea in word form. I have always been a letter writer. Any ex-boyfriend will tell you that about me.

A reads it slowly, but he doesn’t smile. He looks like he was about to tell me my parents died. I don't even know for sure if he had actually read the letter, or took any of it in because what I wrote hadn't seem to leave any effect on him. It was just a barrier in front of him to get to the choice he was going to make anyway... I felt like I was being punished for falling in love.

To break up with me. He said that he really liked me but that he loved R, and he would do anything to keep her. And that meant us ending things with me. He said he loved our connection and wanted to stay friends. As hurt as I was, I was okay with that. I said no matter what, I wanted to always stay his friend. He promised me that we would... And I believed him.

After losing my apartment, losing my boyfriend, and deeply hating my job, I decided I was going to move back to my hometown. I told him, and as sad as he was by that, he supported whatever I needed to do.  

A week or two later, we had gone out dancing, and I got really drunk. He offered to let me stay the night at his place. I slept on his couch the whole night, thinking about how badly I wanted to curl up next to him in bed. But I didn’t... I laid awake, wondering. Until the morning. I hopped in his room to wake him up and asked if it was okay to cuddle. I just wanted SOMETHING and I cuddle with other friends all the time. I mentally justified it over the hours I laid away, thinking about it. He said sure, but I could tell he felt weird doing it. He was under the sheets while I was on top of them and it was as G rated of a cuddle as you can get but when I felt like he wasn't being genuine, I eventually pulled away. I went home pretty quick after that.

We had one last dinner together, and I was gone. I was already feeling really good about us being friends. The only thing that we had lost between us was the sex life, but everything else was the same.

Then I moved. We texted a few times a month, but very little. He still wanted to work on our comic book together. But it was clear that he was pulling away slowly. I had started the process of moving on and getting over him. But it still hurt sometimes.

I kept myself extremely busy the first few months I moved back by aggressively hanging out with all my friends. I didn’t want to be alone. I didn’t want to get caught up in my thoughts of missing him. I partied a lot. But when the party was over, I’d find myself sitting in my car, fully wasted and bawling my eyes out to Tove Lo’s “Habits (Stay High)” on full blast.

You’re gone and I gotta stay high all the time to keep you off my mind
Spend my days locked in a haze trying to forget you babe, I fall back down
Gotta stay high all the time to forget I’m missing you

After a few weeks of not talking, I started to feel like something was up. I checked Facebook. And he was gone. Unfriended. I started at the screen in complete disbelief.

It was like 2am and I was laying awake in bed, just flabbergasted. I texted him immediately. My heart was racing. Had I done something to piss him off? Why would he just unfriend me with absolutely no warning? How long had he had me off there?

“Ahem… Why would you delete me off of Facebook?”

He goes into how R asked him to. If they were to ever get married, she told him he needed to remove me as a friend. He tells me he should have told me right away, but he figured he would just let me find out on my own, that maybe I wouldn't notice or even care. What an idiot. I was shocked. THIS BITCH.

How fucking unstable can your relationship be if you have to make that kind of bullshit stipulation on your marriage over a girl who lives 2.5 hours away?! I hadn’t talked to him in weeks, and if we did, it was just for a quick check in, nothing more. I felt like I was being punished all over again.

I burst. I wailed. How fucking insane! We were just friends! Like... fuck! She already got what she wanted! I hated her. And this fucking idiot wanted to marry her?

R was not the person A had described. While I thought the sun shone out of his ass, he thought the same of her. But in all reality, she had pretended to be okay with everything. She lied the entire time. She wanted the benefits of fucking as many people as she wanted, but only for herself. She was deeply jealous of me, especially because her and A were fighting all the time, and he and I were doing really well. She was threatened. She was secretly hoping that I was just a fling the entire time, so when I developed feelings, she lost her mind, and gave A this ultimatum. Me or her. And even though she won, that wasn’t enough. She had to set fire to what minute piece of friendship he and I had left. She didn't care about tossing out the other dudes she was sleeping with because they were literal losers. But I was scary for her, because A and I had real potential.

Weeks went by and I was still friends with all of his friends on Facebook. It was killing me. I would see pictures of his stupid face on my feed and I would be smacked in the face with heartbreak. I didn’t know what to do.

So one night, wasted and very stupid, I send him a Facebook message. I talked myself into it after the bar one night at 3 in the morning.

“I miss you.”

I didn't realize he was going to reply right away.

He didn’t think this was cute. He thought it was pathetic. Every response was cold and rude, like I was this fucking creep he felt nothing for anymore and tells me I just need to move on. He had moved on. Then he says it.

“We are happily married now.” When I read those words, it was like a bomb went off inside my heart. I never should have responded. I should have shut my phone off, and went to sleep. But instead, I sent this stinger:

“I hope it ends in a hilariously expensive divorce.” Yes. I said hilariously. Because I wanted him to imagine me cackling. Cackling like an evil witch who had cursed them.

Ouch. It was the meanest thing I could think to say. I wanted to hurt him, like he hurt me. He couldn't possibly be hurt worse than I was hurting now, worse than he hurt me back in the summer. It was meant to cut because I truly didn't feel like he gave a fuck about me anymore. I could say whatever I wanted now.

“Wow. I really dodged a bullet with you.” He blocked me. He was gone.

I sat awake, just bawling for hours. I hated them both. I really did think they were doomed, (and if I'm being honest, still do) but I never should have said it. It was truly a nasty thing to say.

I deleted everyone. All of his friends. I couldn't bare to see them on my feed and think about him ever again. I was going to delete anything that would remind me of him.

But the following day, I wrote him an apology email. I didn't send it for a week. I wanted to make sure it was perfect. I told him I was sorry, and that I didn’t mean it. It felt good in the moment, but afterwards, I realized I was just so devastated by his rejection that I wanted to make him hurt as bad as he had hurt me. I told him he didn’t need to respond to my email, just that I was sorry and I hope that he’s happy.

He didn’t respond… until 2 years later.

Part 2 to come!