Boys

I keep waffling.

Back and forth between hopeful and hopeless.

I’m loving all the ways I’m connecting with One and Two, I really am.

But I feel ready for more.

A big part of my journey into the poly realm is the realization that my heart is huge.

It has capacity to hold love in a way that few others do.

And I just want to share that love.

Freely, openly, in a way that is healing and transformative for the world around me.

Only problem is, I’m finding there are few people who are able to receive that love.

I keep thinking I’ve found them, the ones who can hold it, welcome it, let it in.

I keep connecting with someone new, and they offer me clues and crumbs that seem promising to their capacity.

They seem like mature, emotionally intelligent and available men.

They send me long messages about the old wounds their ENM journey is surfacing, and all the ways they are working through those wounds.

They send me long voice notes expressing their deep care and reverence for navigating the process of connecting with other’s hearts and bodies.

They respond to my shares about my life with attention and curiosity and affirmation.

They say they are open and receptive to however our connection unfolds, and seem excited to explore what that looks like together.

They invite more intimacy, more sharing, more vulnerability from me.

And then, every time, there comes a moment when it’s revealed.

They are not who they presented themselves to be.

They are not men, they are boys.

I’m just looking for light, fun, sexy connections, they say.

I’m just wanting to make sure you’re not overly committing your emotions to this, they say.

I’m just really busy right now, they say as they slowly retreat backwards towards the metaphorical door of our conversation.

Sometimes it’s something I’ve said, something that aligns with the presence we’ve been cultivating with one another.

Yet somehow it’s suddenly too much.

It always comes out of nowhere for me.

Maybe I’m too trusting, too naive, too vulnerable too soon.

But that’s me.

I refuse to harden my heart and become cynical and mistrusting of people to begin with.

These boys masquerading as men will not take my hope from me.

My faith in the human heart remains.

I will keep entering these connections with openness and transparency and authenticity.

I will continue to believe they are out there.

Men who can hold and receive intimacy not as a threat to their autonomy but as a gift freely given.

Men who can sense intimacy building and see it as a chance for growth and opportunity and expansion.

Men who can express their true emotions without fear that I’ll get too attached or too clingy.

Men who can trust in this process of untangling mono normative dynamics and beliefs and frameworks.

Men who have actually done the self work they proclaim so immediately, so assuredly.

Some days I question whether they’re really out there.

Do they even exist?

Then I look at my husband.

I see his warm loving eyes, feel his tender embrace, experience his deep capacity to hold all of me.

And I know it’s possible.

He’s one of a kind, that much is true.

But his vulnerability and integrity and intelligence give me pause in those moments when I’m ready to give up.

He reminds me it is doable, having a male body and also a tender and open heart.

And I believe again.

Maybe all of these experiences will give me pause when I hear a man explain how evolved he is.

Maybe I will wait to believe him until he shows me with his actions that the words he speaks are true.

Maybe I will hesitate a bit before I share too much of myself so quickly, letting some time pass so I can witness the container we’re creating is truly as safe as they’ve assured me.

But I won’t give up.

I won’t pretend I’m not the deeply feeling, deeply loving human that I am.

I won’t settle for crumbs in return when I know I’ve offered the whole pie.