It’s been just over a year since I launched this blog. It’s been a year since I began sharing my thoughts through my writing with anyone and everyone who finds themselves with the time to read through the words I string together. It’s been a year since we started “dating” rather than simply hooking up here and there. It’s been a year of high highs and low lows; my depression gave way to anxiety and yet, I find myself happier and more sane now than ever. It’s been a year packed with orgasms, love, and self reflection. It’s been a year of connection like never before. What will the next year of my life bring? What am I hoping for?
I was overwhelmed with positive feedback almost instantly upon launching my site. I threw out some thoughts on Twitter, posted some anonymous cartoon-ized pictures, and bared my soul through my writing. If you’re visiting my site, it’s probably because you’re interested in sex, too. I expect that you’re naturally wondering what’s next for my sex life more than, say, my family, my writing, or how I intend to keep a handle on my mental health. But the older and wiser I get — I do turn 40 this year — the more I see the interconnectedness between all aspects of my life. My sexuality is just one integral piece of the Eliza puzzle, and I am not whole without all my pieces in place.
It’s been a year since I’ve started this blog, but my posting tapered off only after a few months. My writing, however, did not. My writing has become a source of self care for me as I navigated new relationships, both sexual and platonic. My writing helped me to sort through my thoughts and emotions as my heart was taken in new directions, but ultimately landed back home with Jack. My writing reminded me that I enjoy my inner dialogue when it’s under control, tamed by the structure and resonance of word choice and sentence structure. And now, in the next year, I set the intention to post more often, to share my writing with the world in hopes that it brings not only me comfort, but maybe you, too.
It’s been a year since we met the couple that broke us. It was pure happenstance, unplanned and unprecedented. I had previously toyed with the idea that I was “simply” a sex-loving suburbanite who could form fuck-buddy friendships without any emotional investment. But this couple got under our skin, made us feel the potential love that could come from a polyamorous relationship rather than a swinger situation.
It was easy to open up to Ned and Tarah. Jack and I let them see the truest version of ourselves — the side we present to so very few people in “real” life. We opened our hearts as well as our home to them; we were pleased to see them navigating effortlessly around our kitchen within a few visits. All of our kids instantly clicked, too, though the youngsters didn’t understand when we referred to them as our little “polywogs.” We went on family outings together; we discussed future trips together. And, yes, we thoroughly enjoyed the physical side of that relationship, too.
It’s been nearly a year since we embarked on what we started to call “dating,” following in both the footsteps and terminology of Ned and Tarah. They were an amazing find, but we weren’t monogamous even with each other, Jack and I reasoned. We wanted to seek out other relationships, too. We wanted many new friends to fill our lives with joy and pleasure, especially after so much time spent at home, stewing on relationships and sexual possibilities with other people. Call it our pademic backlash, perhaps?
We reached out to a couple that we had initially messaged with pre-COVID. Sparks flew on the first date; we couldn’t believe our good luck. A second date brought us to the bedroom and we had pure, not-so-innocent fun. We gelled with Andrew and Laine quite nicely, our flirting eventually succumbing to a puppy-pile of playful foursome positions in our king sized bed. We vowed to do it again, and (spoiler) we did.
It’s been three-quarters of a year since I connected with Helen. My ultimate goal, back when we started considering non-monogamy, was to have a relationship with a woman on the side, just for me. Helen was also looking for something solo, apart from her husband. Much more along the lines of “ethical non-monogamy” than swinging, her profile said.
This married-but-dating-solo woman and I started chatting about psychology and philosophy over text; I’m sure you can guess that this sapiosexual approach worked wonders on me. I wanted to meet her, but was it okay that I was embarking on a relationship outside of our marriage, without Jack there? This wasn’t just about sex, I reminded Jack. What if we became true friends? What if we became companions as well as sexual partners? What if I fell in love with someone else? Jack assured me that he wanted me to explore this aspect of my sexuality, of my self. He couldn’t have possibly been any more supportive and encouraging, albeit also more than a little aroused at the idea of me with another woman.
Helen was sexier in person than in her pictures. Her personality instantly reminded me of Jack: direct, chatty, thoughtful, caring, and extroverted. We talked for hours, just the two of us, locking eyes and not holding back any intimate detail about ourselves. It was like we were old friends, reconnecting. She was different than anyone else we had dated. Being with her was like being with Jack. There was instant comfort and ease. It was an instant sense of home.
We sauntered in near slow motion to our vehicles when the restaurant kicked us out to close for the night. Neither of us wanted the night to end, and I tentatively invited her into my minivan to continue the conversation in warmth. Sitting side by side in the front, she eventually took my hand in hers, stroked it for a moment, and finally kissed it gently, sweetly. Our lips met. Our hands roamed. I discovered that she hadn’t been wearing a bra all night.
Like a highlight reel, I savor clips of our first night together. Two moms, too eager to get a hotel room, utilizing the Stow-N-Go features in the back of my messy minivan. Me, holding back her soft, unruly curls while she went down on me. Her sweet panting sounds when it was her turn to orgasm. Checking out each other’s bodies in the moonlight; I’m covered in peach fuzz and she has scars from surgery. Our bodies intertwined together as we cuddled, wishing each other a Happy Mother’s Day as the clock showed it was well past midnight. Giggling as we sorted out whose thong was whose in the dark. Jumping right back into a conversation about our favorite podcasts just before it was time to return home to our husbands.
When I finally arrived home around 2am, Jack immediately woke up, eager to hear the details of my night. When was I going to see her again? Was this a one-night stand or was this “something?”
At that moment, I suddenly felt too overwhelmed to know anything. In the course of less than three months, Jack and I had actually done it. We made the fantasies our new reality. We were making new friends, with benefits. Three new friendships (if you count couples as one friendship) in less than three months.
I went too fast.
It’s similar to a moment when you’re flooring it on the highway, listening to an amazing song, and then you look down and realize that you’re going twenty over the speed limit when, for God’s sake, you’re someone’s mother! You should be driving slower — you have responsibilities and people and a home and passions! Your heart skips for a moment when you realize that you weren’t paying attention, that you could so easily spin out of control, and you become instantly fearful of an accident or being pulled over. And so you near slam on the breaks to slow back down to the speed limit.
Goodness, you think, I can’t let myself go like that; I need to pay attention. And then you offer up some gratitude to the universe, thankful that everything is fine. You reassure yourself that you were just caught up in the moment, in the music, and you got a little silly. No harm done this time, but you have to be careful.
It’s been a year of repeating that little dance, that speeding up and suddenly slamming on the breaks. There were more dates, more couples, even dates with single people as we tried to figure out what we wanted out of this lifestyle. There was too much emotion, too much connection, and too much newness. Too many dating apps, too many dates, too much time away from Jack and the kids with the intention of exploring my sexuality rather than practicing self care. It was a year of tough lessons, leading me back home, but changed. A hero’s journey, if I am able to be so bold as to call myself a “hero.”
Jack and I once had a vision that it would be fun to simply have some sex with other people. As if other people were just bodies and not souls, too. A bit of experience showed us that we weren’t quite on the right track with that mentality, and we started seeking something deeper, more akin to friendship.
Swinging? Ethical non-monogamy? Consensual non-monogamy? Polyamory? Confused yet? Yeah, so were Jack and I. We had started this journey thinking about all “this” in terms of swinging. We still were swinging, from time to time, such as on our second trip to Hedonism in Jamaica. But that’s another (much more fun and sultry) story (for another time, I promise).
Over the first few months, Jack and I were alternately aroused, giddy, and overwhelmed to the point of tears. We longed to see some of our new friends again, and others we hoped to avoid altogether. We were distracted at work. We were confused about our rush of feelings. Our emotions felt out of control. We were confused. We talked too much and became prone to overthinking every situation.
At times, I forgot myself completely. I stopped learning through my podcasts, stopped appreciating books, stopped writing even. I got addicted to texting with new people, anxious to see their replies. I couldn’t focus at work. I wanted to define every new relationship; I wanted labels and boundaries and clarity. The last time that I had dealt with new relationships to this extent was back in high school with the guy that I ultimately married. This was a different path, but I didn’t know where it would lead. The uncertainty was driving me mad.
Jack and I went to see a therapist, who not only assured us that we were okay, but also gave us the best advice for how to proceed forward. We’d need to continue to communicate as well as we had been in order to define what we wanted. The world was our oyster. So what next?
Labels can be restrictive, I get it. But labels also help us to make sense of the world, particularly things that can’t be seen or touched. Learning more about open relationships through books like The Smart Girl’s Guide to Polyamory and The Ethical Slut gave Jack and I the verbage to discuss our wildest dreams. Which, in reality, don’t seem so crazy outside of the parameters that society has defaulted to over the past couple thousand years.
Our friendship-with-benefits with Ned and Tarah confirmed our suspicions that we were seeking something deeper. There were feelings involved that we hadn’t previously considered — emotions more complex, real, and wonderful than we ever imagined.
Ned and Tarah, however, are practicing nonmonogamy for different reasons than we are. Since their goal is different, their technique is different, too. Things got complicated. Perhaps Jack and I tried too hard to emulate their behavior and understand their reasons. They taught us so much just by being our friends, and by letting us be theirs. There were moments of pure joy that will forever have a place in my heart and in my story.
They helped us define our “wants” as a couple seeking something akin to polyamory. Jack and I desire a deep, intimate four-way friendship with another couple. We want friends that we vacation with. We want to have big family gatherings, our kids mingling with theirs. We want to be able to connect one-on-one with our friends, all four of us caring for each other.
Perhaps we’ll find what we desire with Andrew and Laine. They are still out there, a possibility still waiting to come to full fruition. In the past year, we’ve found ourselves becoming increasingly closer, curious if our fuck buddies are indeed the true friends that we suspect they are. Where other couples have only briefly sparked our interest, they continue to intrigue us. There is a connection there to be further explored. Their chapter in our novel is still unfinished, the distance between our homes prohibiting a fast-paced plot.
I was apprehensive about my relationship Helen in the midst of losing my mind this past year. I had moved so quickly, especially with her, my one and only time having sex with someone on the first date. Was I just filling the void of wanting a woman with the first solo woman that I encountered? Could this possibily be real, or was I just crazy? We went on a few platonic dates, teasing but not fooling ourselves, until finally we booked ourselves a hotel room. Alone, in what felt like a surreal, alternate universe, I saw how we fit together. We connected, and I caved. I let her in. Helen is special in a way that a paragraph here can’t describe, and I’m hoping that we continue to evolve until we have a whole story unto ourselves.
It’s been a year of learning (the hard way) that I need to take things slow. Phil Collins was totally spot-on when he said you can’t hurry love; I’m learning that I can’t rush relationships. Helen turned into the voice of reason in my head, reminding me that life is about balance. She reminds me with her words and her example that I have to focus on my family, my husband, and myself. She echoes all the sentiments that Jack pours out but that I’m too stubborn to heed in my anxious moments of overwhelm and New Relationship Energy. She reminds me that a truly good relationship is built on a foundation of honest, direct, and clear communication. It’s a friendship that can blossom into pure sexual pleasure when the time and energies align.
It’s been a year of deepening friendships with platonic friends, too. Upon opening up to those that I discerened would be receptive to my alternative lifestyle, I recieved more caring and concern back than I ever imagined possible. I learned that when I was real with the right people, they’d reciprocate. Deep conversations and connections are possible without sex, too. Lesson learned and much appreciated.
It’s been a year of anxiety for me, culminating into the realization that I have to take care of myself first and foremost. I need my introvert time. I need to read and learn. I need to find fulfillment in my career. I need to connect with my children and feel like I’m doing my best as a mother. I need to write to make sense of it all.
It’s been a year for me and Jack. Our relationship faced unprecedented challenges as I fell for others, spinning my emotions and anxiety out of control. His emotions remained steady and calm, his support and encouragement miraculously unwavering. I found myself falling in love with him all over again. Jack proved that he was my best friend, and then I found myself looking at him through the eyes of others. He’s kind, smart, deep, and fun. He makes everything better just by being him. He’s hot as fuck, too. Our sex life has never been better.
We thought we’d “detangle” ourselves from the other by opening up our marriage, and yet we find that we are closer than ever before. How is it that through letting each other go, we bind more closely together? We are finding new footing in our restructured relationship as we discuss and redefine our boundaries. Together, we’ve made a choice to trust the universe. We’ve opened up a new door to a life more exciting, exhilarating, and inspiring than I could have ever possibly imaginaged. A life ahead filled with more love and connection than I ever thought possible. It’s terrifying, I’ll admit it. Yet having Jack by my side, as my confidant, my partner, my world…it feels manageable. It feels like the ultimate adventure.
Swinger isn’t the right word for us any more. We are open to something…more.
Jack and I want sparks. We want to meet people that help us grow as individuals, pushing us to live more full, beautiful lives. We want a tribe of friends to turn to during both the good times and the bad times. Perhaps we will fall in love again and again, with each other, and with others, too. We are open to the possibilities, but slowly, over time.
I deleted the dating apps from my phone. I am shifting my focus away from the formation of new relationships and onto the preservation and care of the valuable relationships that I am already a part of. I’m focusing on my friends, platonic and otherwise. I’m focusing on my kids. I’m focusing on Jack and the wonderful world of sex and sensuality that we’ve cultivated uniquely to us. I’m focusing on me, and how I can set myself free from shame and the burdens of mundane daily existence.
I admit that I felt trapped at the start of 2021. It took growing pains, but I eventually found some freedom by opening up my soul to others, and then reflecting on the person within my own body. Through it all, I found both friends and lovers, kindred spirits in a world of chaos, all of us seeking calm through connection.
Jack and I have come to see our sexual explorations as a key to expanding our worlds. It’s about connecting to others, and bringing our connections back home to enrich our already awesome lives. It’s about expanding our capacities perhaps to love, to live.
And, yes, to connect intimately. It’s what we do best together, after all. Primal play, our souls singing to the tune of our orgasms.
I told you that I was interested in sex.
Fun Fact & Photo Credit: Jack took the photo used as the featured image of this post, as I was writing this very entry. Thanks for catching me in action, Hot Hubby! 😉