I Wasn’t Supposed to Fall in Love — When Swinging Turns Polyamorous

June 2021

On Monday, I popped into Ned’s room first thing, eager to see him and affirm the sentiments he’d shared the day before. 

I was aware that my nose was nervously twitching in the way that Ned had proclaimed “cute” a month prior. My smile was huge, and so was his. “So…this,” I waved my hands between our bodies, separated by his desk, “this is…more than just friends…and more than just sex?”

Ned held eye contact and blushed. He nodded, and I know I felt that spark between us. I know that there was a connection, there was something, and I was elated at his next words. “Saturday was amazing, Lizzie. We want to see you guys a lot more this summer. Like, several times a month.” He paused, now waiting for me to reciprocate.

I told him I felt the same, and I left his room all smiles. 

That wouldn’t last.

By Tuesday, he was cold, barely speaking to me when I came by for a chat at lunchtime. On Wednesday, he was distant, and the few words he said to me were about their Kentucky couple coming home for another visit. 

I couldn’t figure out what I’d done wrong. I told myself that maybe he was just stressed.

On Thursday, the last day of the spring semester, I bypassed him completely for a morning walk with Veronica. By our third lap, Ned stopped us. “I’m doing a group order at Tropical Smoothie. Want anything?” 

I hadn’t eaten anything resembling fast food in years, but a smoothie seemed reasonable. I wanted an excuse to see him again, so I ordered the damn smoothie. He delivered it and then bolted. I tried, but I couldn’t swallow it. My stomach lurched and my body started to shake, perhaps from the sugar, I thought. 

I shoved the smoothie in my mini fridge and decided that I had to nip this in the bud. I needed to know what the fuck was going on here. 

Months before, Tarah had said that we needed to go slow, and obviously we all went too fast, most especially me. Now I had feelings that I couldn’t identify, that I didn’t enjoy, that I was doing my best to suppress from my consciousness…all while feeling like I was hiding something big from Jack. 

I didn’t want whatever this was — I want to feel whole, not ripped into shreds. I didn’t know what to do, but I couldn’t go sobbing to Jack. I didn’t want to hurt him; he hadn’t done anything wrong. I worried, deep down, for the first time ever, that Jack wouldn’t love me anymore if he knew the truth, whatever it was.

I needed to know the truth. I needed to figure it out so that I could figure out what to do. I needed someone to tell me what was happening here. In my panic, with the smoothie weighing heavy in my gut, I made a big mistake. I turned to Ned. 

I burst into his room, where he was alone, puttering on his computer. I told him that I was feeling overwhelming anxiety, but I didn’t know why. I told him that I needed reassurance.

His response sucked. 

He told me they were busy all of July, and that he didn’t know when he and Tarah would be able to get together with us again.

He told me that they were very busy this summer, and that he didn’t keep the calendar — that was Tarah’s job.

He told me, as if he was explaining family trees to a kindergartner, “There are primaries, then secondary partners, and then Tarah is interested in another person, too…and there’s only so much time.”

He told me all of this as if he hadn’t told me “several times a month this summer” on Monday.

I was near tears. I was baffled. I was shaking, and I didn’t know what to say. I felt so, so stupid. 

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t know why I get like this. So anxious.”

“Stop apologizing,” he told me. 

“I guess I just get overwhelmed in relationships. I had a hard time being at college without Jack at first. I think I might need to read up on attachment styles or something.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, maybe you should.”

I didn’t stay in his room long after that. I was hurt, but I wouldn’t let myself acknowledge that. I’m just confused, overwhelmed. Did my anxiety push him away? I shouldn’t have bothered him with this. He doesn’t want to deal with my emotions. I’m so stupid. Maybe I could fix it by being clearer with my words…

I messaged him. So dumb.

I put in writing what my shaking voice couldn’t say in his presence. I adopted what I hoped was a sweet, light, calm voice for my message. I detailed what I was hoping for with him — I want to be intimate with you. You’ve become a special person in my life, and I hope that I mean something to you, too.

Snapchat has a lovely feature that shows you if someone opens up your message. Ned opened it immediately. He didn’t respond.

I waited for over an hour in the library for the ping of my phone. No response. Had I blown it? Was I totally off base?

I needed Veronica. I went to her room, and she saw everything on my face. “Let’s walk,” she said.

We went out the side door, and there was Ned, sitting on a bench with his phone in his hand. He may not be emotionally in-touch, but I know that he saw the anguish on my face. He looked at me, aghast, as if seeing me triggered something within him. 

I turned away before he could see the tears that had started to pool in my eyes. I leaned in towards Veronica, and we walked off the grounds and into the neighborhood. When we were well out of his sight, she stopped and took me by the arms, turning my body towards hers. “You have feelings for him, Eliza.”

I denied it only for a moment, and then I fell into her embrace. It didn’t fix my anxiety or heartbreak, but it felt better. Someone had finally told me what I had been too chicken-shit to tell myself.

After forty-five minutes of walking and talking, I still didn’t know what to do next, and Ned still hadn’t texted back. Veronica was pissed — “he’s being an asshat, Eliza,” and I should’ve taken her advice — “forget about him, and just focus on Jack. Or me. Make me your person.” She threatened to take my phone when I suggested that I message him again, but I refused. I’d handle this, I said. I wouldn’t text him, I said.

I lied. 

Veronica left, and I texted Ned one symbol — a question mark.

No response for another hour, and then he sauntered by my office, where I was finally attempting to choke down that damn smoothie.

“Did you get my text?” I asked him. Yes, you did, asshat.

“Oh, yeah, I just didn’t have time to answer back, but everything is cool,” he cooed. He smiled, smooth. 

“Really? And?”

“That’s what I want, too,” he said. “Are you okay? What’s all this about?”

The shred of confidence that I’d mustered for that conversation started to shatter. Was I overreacting? I was feeling crazy.

“I don’t know…I’m sorry. I guess I’m just feeling weird about the summer schedule and my day-to-day changing again…”

He didn’t push for more information. I didn’t feel reassured; I felt vulnerable and raw. I asked him for a hug. Jack’s hugs are reassuring. Veronica’s hugs are like a liferaft. I try to always hug my kids in a way that gives them no doubt of my love for them. I dare say that a good hug with a loved one is one of the best parts of being human.

Ned’s hug was awkward. It was quick, leaving me feeling guilty that I asked him for it. Like I did something wrong. No sparks, no warmth, no passion…just obligation. He joked that I should go write about all this. 

Yes, I thought. At least he understands my passion for writing. I smiled and tried to lighten the mood. “Do you want to read it after I’m done?” 

“No,” he said. He laughed, in one burst of breath. “Ha!” Then he walked away. 

The entire staff went to the bar right after work to celebrate the beginning of summer. I was still turning Veronica’s words over in my head — you have feelings for him — and Jack’s words from weeks ago, accusing me of the same. 

I knew that feelings weren’t perfect. I knew that, along with love, eventually there would be heartbreak. I knew that, one day, all the people I loved would be gone, and that I would ache at the loss. I knew that it was statistically likely that I would outlive Jack. I knew that my kids would one day move out. I knew that, despite feelings of love and affection, I could be irritated, infuriated, even hurt by the people I loved most. 

But I suppose I had lived a rather charmed life up until that point. I had never fully given my heart to someone, only to have them trash it. I had never been so vulnerable, only to be manipulated. I had been cloistered by Jack, who was unflinchingly loyal, who only ever wanted the absolute best for me. I had been treated like royalty in our relationship, and this became my standard. The people you love should treat you well.

No, I didn’t expect Ned to run off into the sunset with me. I didn’t want that. But I did sense that we had something special, and I yearned to explore that connection. There were sparks, there was passion, there were gazes into each other’s eyes. He made me feel seen, adored. And then he’d pivot, and I would obsess about which of my flaws he’d discovered. I had to know what I’d done and how I could fix it. I had to know why someone who proclaimed that I was someone to him would treat me this way.  

I didn’t want to be the type of person who would throw someone away because one little thing wasn’t right. Good friends are hard to come by, and relationships take work. That was my post-pandemic, free-loving philosophy.

At the bar, Ned stayed close. We sat in a group with our other friends, Veronica included. She shot him daggers with her eyes, and I loved her for it. I settled into a conversation with another friend about the afterlife. When we moved to a table, I started to sit at the far end, giving Ned space, but he pulled out a chair for me. “What are you doing all the way down there? Come sit next to me.” He smiled and held my eyes.

As I sank into the seat next to him, I realized the flaws in my philosophy. I couldn’t read him. I didn’t know what had just gone down with Ned, but I felt myself suddenly sick of his mindfucking. When I wasn’t feeling regretful about every stupid thing I’d said, every dumb question I’d asked, every way in which I’d made myself so vulnerable to him — I was mad. Mostly at myself, for being so pathetic.

Thankfully I had an entire summer ahead of me. I promptly purchased new supplements promising to quell anxiety. I popped CBD capsules whenever I felt my heart start racing. I took walks, did yoga, and spent tons of time with the kids, Jack, and Veronica. 

I fretted about Ned and Tarah, but not for long. I decided that I could spend all summer being confused, or I could move past all of this and focus on people more deserving of my time. After all, I wouldn’t see Ned at work for a solid two months. I could breathe. I could have some self respect, dammit. If they wanted something, they could reach out.

Jack and I decided to try the apps again for our coveted four-way friends-with-benefits. Yes, we were trying to replace Ned and Tarah, and that seemed completely reasonable. Andrew and Laine still had great potential, but they were out of town for the summer, and we were impatient. 

Unfortunately, the two couples we dated in the early part of summer fizzled out quickly due to lackluster chemistry. The guys were overly interested in me and the women weren’t all that queer. Both were mismatches.

But there was still Hannah.

Hannah was in a league of her own. 

Part of me worried that our amazing night in my minivan was a one-off, like beginner’s luck. I had felt something with her immediately, but over that month I’d grown increasingly gun-shy. I worried all the worries…that I wasn’t really queer, that I’d planted the idea in my head, that the next time I would be put-off, or that I’d hurt her… 

I also worried that she really wasn’t queer, yadda yadda yadda. That I would be hurt. Lord knows that Ned had made me crazy enough, could I risk being vulnerable with her, too?

Turns out, I could. On our second meeting, it was easy.

I melted into her presence that June, ordering the Brussels sprouts appetizer at her insistence. It was heavenly, eating that succulent dish while gazing into her green eyes, which were surrounded by that hair. I wanted to put my hands in that hair again; I wanted to feel it tickling my body, getting in the way. I wanted to kiss those lips, touch that skin that teased me from the corner of her off-the-shoulder top. I wanted to see her smile, and I wanted to hear what she had to say. 

All the while, I wanted her to be intrigued by me, too. I wanted it all.

We stayed beyond late at that bar, too late to park anywhere that time, and both too shy to talk about it. Both still feeling out what this was, though later she’d share that she was just waiting for me to come around and see what we had.

Of course, as luck would have it, she was leaving the next week for a month down South to visit family. And then Jack and I would be going to Hedo. And then she’d be visiting her in-laws. It wouldn’t be until late August that our schedules would align, which was a total bummer, but still…I grinned like the Cheshire Cat my entire drive home. 

She was something, and it felt good. Hannah’s presence in my life was a stark contrast to Ned’s. He was dopamine with a crash; she was serotonin. 

She was like Jack. I wish I would have let that soak in sooner, deeper, but I was distracted again. This time, it was a good distraction — a sex trip with Jack in Jamaica.