I know a lot of people are doing it. Or at least pretending to do it. The majority of people, in fact. But I have arrived at the conclusion that monogamy is fucking impossible. Okay, it’s not impossible, because I’ve done it. But it’s so tedious. There are more than 7 billion human beings on this planet. You cannot convince me that there is just one person out there that I should be with. I’m not knocking those who are monogamous because 1. we’re inculcated from infancy to believe that monogamy – heterosexual monogamy, in particular – is the only real, legitimate way to be in a relationship and 2. it really truly works best for some people; it’s just how they are. Ideas of monogamy may be changing slightly with poly communities opening up about their experiences (or maybe since realizing I’m poly I’m just surrounding myself more with nonmonogamists). Whatever it is, monogamy certainly isn’t the only, or even the best, relational style.
People often ask me how I think this will affect my daughter, having an openly poly mother. Well, if being exposed to honesty and open discourse on different relational styles is harmful, then I’m fucking up big time. But, given that I’m of the opinion that children are intelligent beings capable of critical thought, I’m gonna go ahead and say she’ll be fine.
Anyhow, back to me. So, yesterday was my birthday. I’m now in my last year of my twenties. And it was one of the most miserable birthdays that I can remember having. It started off well enough – with an early afternoon nap. But then I woke up and it was all downhill from there.
See, there’s this guy. I kinda fell in love with him. Even though I’m already in a relationship with someone else. I’m not going to beat myself up about it. This shit happens. But things had gotten strained between he and I lately. I wasn’t sure what was up. He has a pretty negative history of his experiences with women (which should have been a huge fucking red flag screaming run in the opposite direction, do not pass go, do not collect $200, get the fuck out of here). But apparently I’m drawn to men who suck at relating to women (my ex being a case in point). Anyhow, foolish me was drawn in by his intellect and his passion. We had heated political discussions and it was thrilling and exciting and stimulating.
But something transpired and he stopped texting. He was shorter with me when he did. And then last night, I got on the bus with another man (a med student from out of town who I let crash at my place until his residence is ready) and who did we run into, but guy I fell in love with. I didn’t see him right away. And when I did I knew shit was going to hit the fan.
Med student and I got off the bus at our stop and went into the store to pick out a cake for my birthday. I fucking hate cake, by the way. So we get in there and we’re in front of the cakes and I get a text. From guy I fell in love with. He tells me I almost broke his heart. He tells me he knows I’m sleeping with someone else. He essentially tells me whatever it was between us is over. As I’m standing in the baking section in front of a bunch of cakes. And I don’t even fucking like cake. We came up here for cake. On the bus. If we’d gone for vodka, like I’d preferred, this wouldn’t be happening right now. Cake. I will forever hate cake. Even more than before. Fucking cake.
Anyhow, my heart broke, and we returned to my place with cake. Heartache in exchange for a not-even-food-product-because-ew on my birthday. Sounds about right. Then my boyfriend called and I yelled at him because my heart was broken.
I was supposed to go for drinks with my friend (which was partly why guy I was in love with who broke my heart was upset – he’d wanted to spend my birthday with me (and I had so so so much wanted to spend it with him) but when he saw me out with another guy he assumed I was lying about drinks with my friend) but she took a nap that lasted until nearly 1am. So drinks didn’t happen (which might’ve cured the heartbreak).
And then med student guy (who bought me the cake) finally asked me what was wrong. So I told him. He knew of my boyfriend. He knew of my side guys. I mean, he himself is a side guy. But he suddenly realized that my inability to be with one person is real. He realized I really am that restless. And so when we were fucking he couldn’t stop thinking about it and went flaccid. But at least I got my O. So there was that. Happy fucking birthday to me.
Thankfully, The Asshole (you may remember him), came to my rescue, leaving vodka, and an excellent bottle of wine at my doorstep. Which obviously changed the trajectory of my birthday. I happily imbibed and dulled the heartbreak and disappointment. So cheers to 29 years. Clearly it’s off to a great start.
And the moral of this story is that monogamy is im-fucking-possible (med student hates when I swear, but too fucking bad for him because I fucking love cursing). And birthdays suck.
Med school guy has iterated (even before I told him of tonight’s heartache) that he doesn’t like to share. Why can’t I find men who are happy to be a part of my life and embrace the fact that I love multiple men? It’s really not that difficult, I don’t think. I mean, I’d be happy if they had other lady friends, too.
So, in my first day of being 29, I have learned of myself that I am a woman who knows what (and who) she wants. And while men adore me, they all want me for themselves. Can I ever be happy? Can I be with one person? Can I settle down?
The only thing I know for sure is that I fucking despise cake!!