Tag: love

  • Grateful

    Dear Two,

    Every time I see you I think it can’t get any better, yet the next time it does.

    I feel so comfortable around you, like we’ve known each other for ages.

    I’m so glad I decided to be brave and go on a date with you.

    I almost didn’t, have I told you that?

    I didn’t think we were going to align, that we were moving at different paces.

    Turned out that we could meet in the middle.

    It was the best surprise.

    Last week I visited, and you had just gotten back from a run when I arrived.

    Shirtless and drenched in sweat, you were so beautiful.

    I wanted my hands slipping all over you.

    I have to shower! You protested.

    I told you to just wait a moment because it was so hot.

    We kissed and I felt your wet skin.

    You tasted so salty and delicious, like when I’m surfing and lick my lips and taste the ocean.

    After you showered you made us amazing salads for dinner, and then we took a walk.

    All through your sweet city neighborhood.

    There was a pond nearby you wanted to show me, and we walked through the park.

    When we walk places you have a little ocd habit of needing to walk in the outside of me.

    It’s so heartwarming and protective and endearing.

    That night you had your arm around me, gently holding the small of my back as we strolled.

    It was such a small but sweet gesture of the intimacy I feel constantly growing between us.

    In contrast to One, you seem to really like communicating between our visits.

    Sending me little notes and check ins if it’s been a few days since we connected.

    I love that you send me audios too, your voice is always so sweet and genuine.

    And the lovemaking…

    It’s so expansive and organic and sensual.

    I lose track of how many times we have it each overnight, but it’s a lot.

    It always feels like you can’t get enough of me, and it’s the best feeling.

    I love that you’re uncircumcised.

    It’s new for me, and so exciting and sexy.

    Everything about you feels new and different, yet at the same time you feel as safe as my childhood home.

    I love you, deeply and truly.

    I think you know.

    And although I don’t think you’re ready for me to say it aloud, you seem to be comfortable and not freaked out by it.

    I’m so grateful for that.

    Thank you, love.

    I’m learning so much from our time together.

    You’re growing me, exponentially.

    Since you’ve entered my life I feel braver, more confident, more comfortable in this new skin I now inhabit.

    And I have the feeling we’re just getting started.

    I can’t wait to see all the things you’ve yet to teach me about myself.

    I drew your portrait yesterday.

    Making portraits of people I love helps me process my feelings about them.

    It’s an outward expression of my inner devotion and adoration.

    It means you’re in, babe.

    You’ve made a home inside my heart, and I’m so happy to have you there.

    You feel so right, so safe, so real.

    So thank you.

    For holding all of me, and not telling me I’m too much.

    I’m so grateful.

  • 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.