It’s 2pm and I haven’t got squat done. Oh, except a whole boatload of towels and sheets. Ad did remind me of that minor accomplishment. But surely I should have gotten more done today. It’s almost my last day of vacation, and then it’s back to the real world of work and trying to figure school out and commitments and schedules and everything else that goes along with living a normal life.
I’m kind of in a funk this morning (afternoon!) Was feeling it a little yesterday (ok, a lot early-on) and managed to kind of shake it off, but woke with the same feeling of malaise and disconnect this morning. I know that part of it is the weirdness of not being around W now, being here when he is there, after 4 days of just being able to talk to him any time. It’s an odd situation, and one I haven’t encountered before in my multiple relationships.
Always before my relationships have been clearly delineated. There is Ad, my primary, my partner, the man I live with and spend 95% of my time with. He’s the one I talk to about miscellaneous nonsense stuff, the one that I share everything with, the little stuff and the big, the good, the bad and the ugly. My Others have always been…extra. Important, but not part of my everyday. Indeed, my relationship with W was supposed to have been that. An extra relationship on the side that fulfilled a specific function. We both started there, we discussed it, we agreed that was what “it,” our relationship, was.
But then, somewhere along the line, he became more important to me. His presence became necessary in my life, and not just extra.
Or maybe that it isn’t quite the right word. Because even early on I knew he would be necessary to me…I quickly realized he satisfied a deep need in me that I didn’t even realize was there, that I hadn’t even known I needed. So, maybe necessary isn’t exactly the word. At least not in the same way he was in the beginning. Somewhere along the line he became more necessary, in a different way–necessary to my emotional well-being as well as to the kinky girl that wanted him to use and abuse and hurt her. We crossed a line somewhere into something more real than the fantasy play we used to do.
And that, in some ways, is harder. Because now when I go see him, like I did this past week, and stay with him, it is a real man I am with, it is a friend and a lover and the man that I woke up with every morning and walked to the store with and held hands with and laughed with and talked about totally inconsequential things with. And when I leave his house, I leave part of me behind, with him, and suddenly, unaccountably, I feel a loss for not being with him. For not being able to just turn to him and talk about whatever. Before, he would hurt me and torture me and send me home, exhausted, that need fulfilled, but glad to be going home to “real” life, ready to recover and have my other needs for love and companionship filled by my relationship with Ad.
Now, I am divided. My life is as real there as it is here. I want to be here, and I want to be there. I want it all and I want both. My heart and my mind and my body has two homes. Is it possible to have this, to do this, successfully? I don’t know. I’ve never tried before. A new thing for the new year.
Of course all this isn’t sudden. We’ve been moving toward this for some time. Back when all the shit happened in my family, in fact, and I made the conscious choice to share it–to share me–with W. And he shared back. I truly think that was the pivotal moment when things could have stayed as they were, our relationship in its clearly defined box, or it would be changed forever. Looking back on that moment, I am so very grateful that I was brave enough to talk to him, to open myself to him. What a loss it would have been, to have only stayed in that one place in our relationship! But in the aftermath, I am having to learn to deal with the bittersweet reality, with feeling this…this bite of sadness, of inexplicable loneliness, of missing him. I am having to learn to be divided, and to come to terms with it.