have I come out to you?

I am definitely a lesbian. I have definitely been a lesbian my whole life, but I didn't know it until quite recently. I officially “came out” to myself in the beginning of 2012, after the last few months of 2011 left me in a state of depression I hadn't seen the likes of in over a decade. I was distancing myself from my girlfriend Gabriel. I was floundering to save my marriage, which I feared was unsalvageable. I spent months internalizing, trying to figure out what, exactly, was wrong with me. Why wasn't I having sex with my husband? More importantly, why didn't I miss it?

Any attempts to rekindle the passion in our relationship died before the embers could even catch. I even gave him the task of learning how to get me off without using his penis—something which could have been fun, experimental, a way for him to learn new things. But he neglected the prompt, finally trying once half-heartedly, and went right back to expecting sex to be the same old routine it had been before. I didn't want to admit it, but the nagging thought kept returning to me: it isn't the sex I was missing, but the closeness. I still wanted to be close to Ark, but I was just not interested in his genitals at all. Sex fizzles out in a lot of marriages (so I'm told by television and magazines), but this didn't feel like the “normal” decline of sexual activity. I was still a highly sexual being. I was just a highly sexual being who was no longer turned on at the prospect of heterosexual sex.

Sex with Gabriel was a different story. Sex with a woman is something entirely different. One of the last times I saw Gabriel, we had sex on the couch while my boy Kiba sat on the floor in front of us and played video games. With a woman, my sex drive is on seventh gear.

Was it just because my relationship with Gabriel was newer? Was it because the sex was explosive, unpredictable, experimental?

It soon came to me that a large part of my unhappiness was being caused by Gabriel's dependence on me. I needed her to back off. In short, I realized that I could not give her everything she needed in a relationship, and have everything I needed to be a happy person. I had to end it. She could not grow, clinging to me, and I could not breathe.

With my sexual outlet gone, my lack of sex with Ark became more obvious to me. I wondered why I didn't miss it. I still loved every other aspect of our relationship. The illusion of our marriage crumbling proved to be false—a landmine in my mind planted during my depression. Ark loved me just as much as ever, and was continuing to evolve in our polyamorous relationship in ways that I was still apparently too wounded to see. He had opened up, and was finally willing to embrace our relationship as it was, but I was too busy looking at the pieces from the past and trying to fit them all together. I love my husband, but I still needed further introspection.

I guess I realized it slowly. The puzzle of my sexuality came together in achingly tiny bits. And the first time I thought to myself, “Maybe I'm a lesbian,” I thought it jokingly. But the more I thought about it, the clearer it became, and the more sense my life made up to that point.

I was never interested in sex. The way other girls looked at boys and would fawn over them, “Ooh, Johnny is so cute! Look at that ass!” It didn't make any sense to me. I dated boys who I came to love, but my love had nothing to do with sex. The first time I saw a penis, I was repulsed by it. My experiences with oral sex were awkward and uncomfortable. When I finally lost my virginity at eighteen, the part I enjoyed was the closeness to the person I loved. It was a special moment, and I wouldn't trade it for the world.

I figured maybe sex and penises and ejaculate was just something I'd get used to. I figured everyone felt the same way at first—grossed out, squicked by cum, totally grossed out at the idea of putting a penis in your mouth. Only, I never really got used to it. I just accepted it as part of a normal life.

I think that's basically the root of everything here: I grew up assuming I was heterosexual. I mean, everyone else I knew was straight, or at the very least bi-curious, so why wouldn't I be straight? I knew, and later admitted to my sister, that I liked girls. My first long-term, real crush was on a female friend of mine from elementary school. Then, later, in high school, I harbored a crush on a girl from England. Aging into adulthood, I began to amass a collection of Penthouse and Playboy, and probably hundreds of pictures of sexy girls of all sorts on my computer. Girls were a mystery to me. My relationships were years-long and with men, one basically starting right after the other (with overlapping, in one instance).

I didn't grow up in the kind of household where you'd be afraid to be gay. I always knew that if I brought home a girlfriend, Mom would be happy because I was happy. My sister didn't care what I did, either. I just never even considered it, when I was younger. And now, at 26 and married to a man I wasn't willing to lose, I was considering it.

I was terrified.

One of the good “rules of poly” I've seen is that if you're afraid to tell your partner something, that means you need to tell them. I'd been brutally honest and open with Ark up to this point, and now was not a good time to start changing that.

I came out as a lesbian and polyamorous to my family (and the general world) around the same time. I kind of cheated—I deleted my Facebook account and made a new one. At first, I sent out friend requests only to people who already knew or people who I felt were ready for the news. My profile picture was this bright yellow square with the words "nobody knows I'm a lesbian."

My “interested in” said “women.”

My “relationship status” said “in an open relationship.”

I was able to list my partners under my “family,” due to a recent update, which was nice but I'm still waiting to be able to list them all under my relationships, like you can on Fetlife.

I never censored myself on this new profile; I was 100% myself. I was coming out as Blue, the polyamorous panromantic lesbian married to a man, who I intended on keeping, and yes, we were happy and we made the choices we wanted to make for our relationship. I was unapologetic. I even posted links to my personal blog as it was updated, and family members read it. Some even reached out to me about its contents. I have nothing to hide. I am not ashamed of what I am.

Slowly, the rest of my family was added to my friend list. I guess it was a half-assed way of coming out, but I didn't feel the need to really make a big deal out of it. I didn't need to stand before all of them with my poly triad-sometimes-quad-sometimes-pentad (is that a word? it is now.) and tell them to accept us all or lose me. It isn't that dramatic. My family will probably only come in contact with our long-term, committed partnerships, and even then, it will/has been in (mostly) slow and comfortable increments for all of us.

I've been pretty blessed in my family's acceptance of us. I was terrified for a while there and—let's face it—kind of bitter about the “friends” we did lose along the way. You see so many stories about people being disowned by their own parents after coming out of the closet. Do you think it was more for my family to handle, because Ark and I stayed together, or easier because of it?

There are a lot of resources out there for being the “straight spouse” (and a lot of them say that “it's hard to get support during this time”). Don't think I'm downplaying Ark's pain in this. I think we had plenty of time leading up to it—I discussed my fears and feelings with him thoroughly, probably too thoroughly, so when I finally did say, “I think I'm a lesbian,” his reaction was something like, “Well, yeah, I kinda figured.” But we have the kind of relationship and understanding of each other where he realizes that my sexuality is through no fault or shortcoming of his own—it isn't his fault he's a man, and I love him no less for it.

What I didn't find was a lot of information on couples where one of them comes out gay—but they stay together. This view is usually speculated upon as something that's difficult, unfair; it's said that the gay partner usually was cheating with someone of the same sex, or hiding their sexuality. This wasn't true in my case and I refuse to believe I'm the only one out there who's been honest the whole time. My sexuality wasn't just a self-discovery, it was a discovery for both of us. The decisions we made, we made together, as a couple, for the well-being of our relationship both as a couple and as individuals.

In some relationships, it seems, this is an unavoidable end. But for me and Ark, it was a new beginning—to a stronger, unique relationship. Sure, folks look askance at us. They ask probing questions. They don't believe us when we say, yes, we're okay. Nobody has to take sides. He and I are in this together. 'Till death do we part.

Moving In, Moving On

In October, we were forced to leave our apartment and seek a different housing situation. This was a huge disruption to our life as it was (we expected to have until December, the natural 'end' of our lease) but fortunately, we were already looking for a new place to live... a place that would be big enough for Ark and I, plus Dawn.

I've spoken before of wanting to live in a poly household—and now, basically, that is what we have. I can float between bedrooms (I don't have my own room at this point). We share the expenses and chores of keeping a house. Our cats mingle (for the most part). And best of all, both of my full-time loves are in the same place as me. “Home” is the same place for all of us.

Moving in together was both kind of a big deal, and not. Dawn still has her own separate space, so if she wants to be alone, she can be. But at the same time, moving in with someone you've been dating for less than a year is risky, and even though I was thrilled to have her with me every day, I was worried that she would feel too crowded and decide it wasn't a good living situation for her. I was also worried that Ark, having to face my relationship with Dawn every day, and my sleeping in a different bed more often, would revert back to his angry, jealous self from the early days of our poly explorations.

Fortunately, it seems like we got all of the good with none of the bad. We all coexist here happily. It's—quite literally, for me—a dream come true.

The year ended with a few other surprises. I kind of “came out” to most of my family, primarily by friending them on Facebook and not hiding anything (kind of a pussy way to come out, but it was quiet and subtle, and I like that). Dawn came with Ark and I to visit my grandmother and to visit Ark's parents. I actually introduced her to my father-in-law, saying, “This is my girlfriend.” It may not sound like much, but for me, it took a lot of balls (figuratively speaking, of course). I'm lucky and blessed that none of this blew up in our faces!

I even brought Dawn to my cousin's wedding, as my date. I kissed her and held her hand and we danced, surrounded by my family, probably people who, before that point, weren't quite certain what exactly was going on. I'm not entirely sure all of them know what's going on at all, but they'll figure it out.

It seems, though, that the people who do know that Dawn and I are 'together' have accepted it and have accepted her as part of the family. This is an amazing relief on my part and a huge joy to Dawn. (Upon meeting my aunt for the first time, and sitting around listening to us all talk, Dawn exclaimed, “Your family are all geeks!”) I have always felt warm and safe cocooned in my family's presence, and I feared that these changes would push them away. I'm so glad that it hasn't.

It hasn't been all roses, of course. While Ark, Dawn and I are finally living in happiness, people on the outside of our relationship have their doubts. Though Ark says he and I are doing great and we're happy, there are some people who just won't believe him. Some have been my family members, and some have even expressed that they think my sexual orientation is just a phase that I'll outgrow. (Really, to me, it feels as though heterosexuality is something I've outgrown.) I'm going to keep smiling, going to keep doing what I'm doing though—my relationships are my responsibility and my business, and what other people think isn't important. I know Ark is happy because I make sure he's happy. Isn't that what love's all about?

this blog entry will also be submitted to Life on the Swingset

I apologize for the long delay in updates! In our move, apparently I damaged my netbook, so have been unable to write. I just got it back though, and so naturally one of the first things I wanted to do would be to tell you all the good news! :) 

Warm Soup

I told myself I could go to Panera Bread and eat a delicious, delicious bread bowl filled with broccoli cheese soup, only if I brought my netbook and wrote a blog article. It worked brilliantly last time, so here I am again, fingering my keyboard and making words appear on the screen. It's hard to write a blog article when there isn't any real drama going on in my life. I originally started this blog to help other people who were starting in poly relationships. It evolved as I evolved, incorporating kink, gender and sexuality articles, and a spattering here and there of erotica, as I rediscovered my writing legs after being without a computer for over a year.

It ended up being more like a personal journal, in which I was detailing the trials and tribulations of starting a poly relationship in which one of the original couple was monogamous and had no desire to be otherwise. Ark agreed to let me see Gabriel because he knew I wouldn't be happy in a monogamous relationship. Looking back on this now, I wonder if my discomfort in a monogamous marriage with him was not because I'm inherently poly, but because I'm gay? Of course, this realization wouldn't come to me until almost two years later. And it would terrify me, shake my world up, make me go back and go back and go back and look at all the things that happened before. And rethink my every decision. Is that why I did this? Is that why I don't like this?

It all made sense, and clicked together, and I've settled. “I am what I am afraid of, so what am I afraid of?”

I shut down at the end of the year, so the last few 2011 months and the first few months of 2012 are empty. I've picked myself up again, and I feel a similar sensation of rebirth, which I felt several years ago as I came to grips with the death of my mother. (Or at least got a better handle on it.) I introduce myself to people as Blue—this is, to me, my coming out. I am Blue and this is me and who I am, and damn you if you don't like it.

My relationship with Gabriel has changed drastically. I did have that talk with her, and we seem to be okay, but I haven't seen her in person since. I'm starting to miss her, though; starting to miss the little things, and starting to miss the sexy things. I'd feel terrible if I went to see her, and we spent the whole time in bed reenacting all the wild ways we've fucked, and making up new ones. Well, maybe I wouldn't feel too terrible, but I feel like we need to reconnect on more than just a physical level. I do miss the next-day soreness, the late-night personal inspection of scratches and bruises, being able to count the teeth in the marks on my hips, my thighs, my shoulders. But I also miss, sometimes, her utter randomness, the eccentricity of her thought pattern; I miss watching her play with her cats, miss listening to her talk about totally irrelevant things and considering stopping her lips from moving my smothering them with mine. I do not miss the way she takes all of my attention (except during sex, which is when I am willing to give all of my attention), makes it impossible for me to concentrate on anything else; how, when I am discomfited, it's not important, but if she is in any sort of discomfort--needing to use the restroom, or a headache--it's gotta be the center of our attention, regardless of what we were doing previously. She is a projector to a serious degree—when she's unhappy, everyone around her will know.

Gabriel is very intense, and this intensity is both why I love her, and why I need to stay away from her for extended periods of time. When it's good, it's great. When she's smothering, it's terrible and I can't handle it. I need to be around people who need alone time, or even passive companionship, in order to remain content. This is why Ark and I work so well together (I believe I've said that before). I've made friends who fulfill this need—I can easily go to their house to visit them, and we spend the whole time watching TV or both of us doing separate things. We don't even need to talk to each other! Just that we are each there, nearby, suits our needs for socialization.

Speaking of friends fulfilling needs, my almost-relationship with Dawn seems to be going smoothly. What I write on this blog is revealing, often even to myself, and especially since I know Dawn will probably read this, I'm self-conscious about what to say about her. I'm going to do my best to be objective here; a particular challenge, since I know I'm probably still up to my elbows in NRE. Or, well, it could just be the excitement of learning another woman's body, of getting to explore her mind and gaining her trust. There is something inherently different about falling for her, and maybe I say this because Gabriel is so different from anyone else, that my love for her really is a different creature, a more passive creature. Dawn is the first woman I'm loving who is (or may be) loving me back, who is closer to... well, closer to normal? I can't talk about it here. Gabriel's past was horrific and it's her story to tell, but it has affected how she is immensely. She is not easy to be with, not easy to love, and for me, not easy to spend great amounts of time with. I tried, at first, but it was exhausting both physically and mentally. I've pulled back, and I feel great.

But I digress—back to Dawn.

Its hard to write about her without a cheesy grin over my face. I'm sitting in Panera still, so I'm pretty sure people are watching, wondering. How can I tell them how hard I'm falling? I think I've scraped my knees and there's bruises on my palms. I'm not obsessed—not anymore, anyway—the hard, fast puppy love stage for me is passed, and I'm moving into the warm, fuzzy, comfortable stage. I still crave her, still miss her, still want to feel her near me, hear her voice, make her laugh, but for me, these are constant things, not a part of NRE. When I felt the powerful Fuzzy Pink Stupids receding, at first, I panicked a little. The rule is to never make an important decision while under the influence of NRE. Did I make an important decision? Will I regret this? Will she? Suddenly I was doubtful of the whole thing. Did we move too fast?

Let me tell you something, casual readers: I do not regret. She doesn't regret (but may still be under the influence). I'm not doubtful, not of my feelings anyway, and while we may have moved fast, I feel that maybe it was exactly the right speed for us. I shouldn't worry and I shouldn't dwell on it. I am so in love with this girl, and the only one who can fuck it up is me. So I'm not gonna.

Best thing ever? I know I can have passive companionship with Dawn. Cause we've had it before. Because she's a friend first, and Ark's friend, and I'm happy to just be near her the way I'm just happy to be near him. She is not demanding. I know I can love her my way and she will be okay with that. I know I can be, just be, and she can just be, and we will be happy. And I am patient and happy to wait for her, to give me what she can give, and I'll be happy with whatever it is.

I wrote, a long time ago, about a happy poly moment; snuggling on the couch between lovers, under the blanket, watching a movie. I didn't have that moment for long after writing about it; things quickly crumbled, and we floundered for a long time. But I have it again. And I've had it often, and it seems to be here to stay. I want it to be easy to love in front of Ark, and I doubted I'd ever get back to that point. If things keep progressing the way they are, hopefully I won't ever have to stress about it again.

Now, there are too many people in Panera and I'm having trouble formulating coherent thoughts, so I'm gonna stop here. See you next time I eat a bread bowl.

I Do (Not)

I have a fear of commitment.

It's written on my Limit list on Fetlife.

I have run from marriage before, from the Idea of Settling Down and Having Kids. In general, when someone expresses the urge to do these things with me, it makes me very, very uncomfortable. So why, and how, you might ask, did I end up marrying Arkanum?

I can't really explain it. We are just super compatible. And I knew it early on. I know what you're thinking; NRE, the fuzzy pink stupids! Of course I knew I wanted to stay with him forevorz! But no, my friends, you only say this because you don't know me. When I say I have a fear of commitment, you are underestimating the depth of this fear. The thought of being someone's wife literally turns my stomach. I feel anxiety; my heart speeds up, my palms sweat, my breath quickens. Except Ark. When I met him, initially the magic wasn't there, I admit. I got to know him over time, and soon we were dating. When I realized I could spend the rest of my life with him I was terrified, but it made perfect sense to me. He doesn't complete me—as I've said, I am a complete person—but he does compliment me very well. He's a stable rock for me in this tumultuous sea.

I clicked with him. How long did it take for me to come to this realization? Less than a month. I wrote him a letter and held onto it for a few days. In the letter, I told him how I felt... and I asked him to marry me. I said I knew it was early and I didn't expect him to say “yes” right away. I knew I wanted him in my life and I was willing to wait.

Now, here we are, almost seven years later, together after many trials and stronger and happier than ever. I have him every day, and nothing brings me more peace.

Commitment is an issue in my other relationships. I know that in some ways, Anita feels the same way I do; “forever” is a big, scary, intimidating word. Nice in theory, but like a cage when dropped on top of you. Gabriel continuously makes me feel uncomfortable with words and gestures of commitment, though I have made it clear I don't feel comfortable with it. I need to write her a letter and talk to her about it, but the ideas and feelings aren't settled enough and I'm also afraid to approach the situation. I know she'll act hurt and it won't end well.

But I digress.

My new relationship with Dawn, someone Ark and I have known for a couple years, is gathering snow like a stone rolling down the mountain. I'm so totally and completely smitten with her. I found myself standing knee-deep in puppy love, gazing around wide-eyed and wondering how the heck I got there. In just two weeks, our friendship has blossomed and the fruit is something sweeter than I'd have ever guessed. As a general rule, I would only consider starting a relationship with someone I was already friends with, but Dawn was in that unattainable category; she isn't poly and had expressed disinterest in giving it a whirl (yet, here we are a-whirling).

Something I've realized is important in the beginning of a poly relationship is for me to find out what the other person expects. Do they expect a long-term commitment? Short-term relationship? Someone to go on dates with? Someone to fuck? Is “I love you” a hard limit? Is sex a hard limit? Are they out, are they poly, are they monog? What do they want, that I can give them?

I asked Dawn what she wanted, and her expectations were very reasonable. But then, something happened that really caught me off-guard: she returned the question. What do I want, what do I expect? I was thrown. I had to think about it for a moment.

My answer at the time had been that I want whatever I can have. Inside, what I want is different. I can't just explain it at the drop of a dime. What if the words come out wrong? What if the words come out right and it's the completely wrong thing to say?

I'm truthful. Sometimes I feel like a parrot, though. When Dawn asked what I wanted, I said the same thing I'd been hearing myself say a lot lately. “I want you to be happy,” “I'll take whatever you want to give me,” “Whatever you're comfortable with,” etc. This goes back to when I was growing up, and being constantly told I was selfish and that what I wanted was tertiary to the wants of anyone else. This isn't to say I'm not telling the truth—I do honestly want the happiness and comfort of my partner. Right now in the fragile stages of our relationship, I don't want Dawn to feel pressured into doing or committing to anything that she doesn't really want (not that I don't think she's headstrong enough to tell me to fuck off, but you never know).

That being said, I went home and kept going back to the conversation. What was said between the lines—what was left unsaid—told volumes. It was close to my heart and I wasn't sure I should talk about it. I talked to Ark about it a little, and that helped me get comfortable with it. The whole truth is that I want to keep Dawn. I want her in my life. We just work in a way that, I know, it's too soon for everyone else to see. Of course, I can't write her a letter detailing the neurotic workings of my heart, all leading up to the grand finale of a proposal—spend the rest of your life with me, I'll take care of you, I'll love you as long as I can. I can't do that. And I really can't explain to anyone why or how I feel this way, how I just know we'd work and we'd work really well.

I just got a feeling.

Re-reading some of what I just wrote, a few paragraphs back, I realized that a year or so ago, I could have written the same things about Anita. Both Ark and I really love her, we've known her for a long time (all the way back to school for me), and the three of us are highly compatible. For a while, I let myself fantasize about her being our Third. (Longtime readers will remember that I have a fluffy dream about living in a poly homestead.) But she was skittish, a flight-risk, and we were afraid to push her into anything she wasn't ready for. And though we all talked about seeing her more often, her coming to visit us, staying for a while, being more serious... and we all wanted it, or at least it was expressed that we all wanted it... it seems that Anita is more of a memory or a story. It's so sweet when we see her, but we see her so rarely that I know we've got to just accept that there won't be any more. She has other lovers now, ones that live closer to her, who she can see without the hassle of finding time off and driving hours away.

What do I dare dream, wish, hope for with Dawn? I guess my answer was the most truthful and realistic when I said that I just wanted whatever she was free to give. I dare not hope for more.

Changes

Well, hello there, blog.

It's been a while, and that's my own damn fault, I know.

I needed some time to myself, and some time away from processing publicly. But, I'm back! Kinda! I can't promise I'll stay. But I can promise I'll try, and that's all you get.

I'm back and writing largely because a lot has changed. I'm not actively processing, because I tend to overthink and that may or may not make things worse. But as time goes on, I'm having little mini revelations, and not all of them are good.

I feel like, over the past year or so, I've grown and changed a lot. I'm stretching into my personality—Blue--getting more comfortable and accepting of the things that make me who I am. I've demanded that in no uncertain terms people either must accept me as I am, or not. I'm tired of hiding. It takes its toll on you, when you hold up a different mask for everybody. So I got rid of the masks. Most of them. I kept a few, and I'm sure we'll talk about that at some point, because it has to do with my depression.

What kind of things have changed? I'll try and explain.

1. I've had to accept things about myself.

In my life, things have happened to me, and I thought they were no big deal and I thought they didn't matter and I thought I didn't need to think about them ever again. But the truth is, a lot of things do affect me, and I need to face them and accept that they happened and they are a part of me. They are the reasons why I fear certain sex acts, the reasons why I feel like I have to give up what I want, the reasons why I am almost completely apathetic when someone is talking about their mother. I have triggers and I'm learning to notice them, to realize what sets me off, what pulls me down, and I'm learning to accept that it matters, and that even if someone else tells me it's silly and I should get over it, it still matters and their opinion of my thoughts, emotions and mental stability is irrelevant.

There were bigger, more important things I've had to accept, that other people have had to deal with as well. When Ark and I decided to be polyamorous, it was very difficult at first, but we worked through it and we're a stronger couple now than I could have ever hoped for. It was important for us to hit all this rocky ground and battle against the odds, because as I mentioned in my previous (very old) blog entry, I've more or less come out as lesbian. I learned that this is not always the end of a heterosexual marriage and I'm very, very glad it was not the end of ours. I love, want and need Ark in my life, and the ways we are growing are important to me. The new-old ways we're affectionate are more special to me than sex. Recently, I've been more “out” about my sexuality, though there are still certain family members who don't know, I'm sure a lot of them do. Maybe they don't understand my open hetero marriage and maybe they don't want to. That's okay. They're my family and I want to keep them, but like I said before, I can't keep myself in a little box and never come out.

2. I've needed more time to myself, which actually means...

I needed time away from Gabriel. The intensity of our early relationship is too much for me to handle long-term, and I am having a lot of trouble accepting that. Gabriel is a very intense person, and I can't ask her to change, but as it is, I often feel suffocated under her love for me. I want her to be happy, and I love her and, when I can handle it, I love being around her. When I can't handle it, I feel drained and grouchy. Words of commitment spook me; I have never been able to promise someone “forever.” I can't even begin to explain what a miracle it is that I married Ark. He is a truly amazing and unique person. That said, Gabriel regularly calls me her wife, and says she “married” me, etc, and this makes me very uncomfortable. It makes me want to escape, cut ties—I feel like I will never be able to give her what she wants and needs in a relationship. She needs monogamy. She needs someone who can give her all their time and all their love. I'm not prepared to give that—it isn't in my nature nor is it appealing to me in any way. I thought of a quote today that summed it up; “I may not be everything you could ever want or need, but I'll give you as much as I can.” What else can I give?

I'd really love for her to have friends outside of my social circle, and I'd love for her to find another girlfriend—someone who can be more full-time than me. She deserves that, she deserves happiness, but I cannot continue to give myself to her at sacrifice to my own sanity and well-being.

I've been taking time away—but it really looks like I'm drifting away, even to me. I don't want that. I still want to be a part of Gabriel's life, and I know she wants me to be (a bigger) part of hers. But can she handle only seeing me once a week, maybe once every other week, maybe once a month? Is it even fair to ask that? It may be what I need.

I feel like there's a lot of pressure when I'm in a relationship with someone who's monogamous. I go back and forth between saying I don't have a primary and I do—the truth is, I do have a primary, and that's Ark. My marriage and relationship to him are tantamount to any other relationships I may have. If a lover can't understand that and doesn't respect my marriage, I can't continue that relationship.

3. I've been taking time to myself.

This kinda goes with the previous statement, but it's different, and here's why. I've made friends, and it's wonderful. I finally feel like I'm surrounded with people I love again—my pack, my chosen family. The people I've met are amazing friends. They make me laugh and I so rarely feel alone anymore. I don't even know how to express that this is a huge big deal for me. It's so hard for me to make and maintain friendships (I've lived here for six years and only just recently made friends).

And old friendships are growing, in new and unexpected ways. A friend of Ark's from his old job, someone we usually saw once or twice a month, has turned into The Object of My Affection lately. I am totally addicted and feeling some heavy NRE with this girl. It's so funny, the way it happened, but well, maybe I'll explain that some other time. I don't want to wax puppylove over this girl and I know I will, if allowed. Which brings me to...

4. I've been dating.

Dating! Do you believe it? I don't. I've never been dating before. It's exciting and new and a little scary. I'm trying to get Ark to date, too (he needs a girlfriend who lives nearby). I had my first two dates (kinda) this week, and both were successful. I'm not going to tell you about them because they're private, and I don't have these peoples' permission to talk about them on my blog just yet.

5. Ark has been amazing.

AMAZING. You don't even know. I've had to lean on him a lot. The very, very bad bout of depression I had at the end of 2011 and the beginning of 2012 had to be a trial. He's not reacted adversely to my affections on anyone else—granted, I am very careful not to be overtly affectionate to anyone else where he's watching me. Being around Ark and someone I like still makes me nervous, because he has reacted poorly in the past, but it's becoming clearer and clearer that maybe, just maybe, all of that is in the past, and I'm elated (when I'm not paranoid still).

I said it before but I'll say it again, my husband is awesome and he has grown in so many ways, changed in so many ways, becoming more accepting and curious and loving and happy. It makes me love him even more (is that possible?!).

So, all in all, some stuff has been happening and it's been great. Mostly. I work, I eat, I sleep, I see friends, I see lovers, I try to balance the world with my personal needs. So, I'm not dead yet! Still very much alive and kicking. Apparently, I just needed to go to Panera and sit down and decide to write a blog article.

I'm a Statistic

Forty percent.

That's the number of lesbians who are married to a partner of the opposite sex. Lesbians who are married to men.

I'm in a loving, affectionate, largely platonic heterosexual marriage. I say “largely platonic” because over the past year, our sexual activity has dwindled drastically and is more or less non-existent at this point (it is currently 9 Feb and we've had sex once this year). We love each other, and all of the other affection is there, but we just don't have sex. And I'm kind of okay with that. I jokingly said to someone last year that if Ark and I never had sex again and I never had a penis inside me again, I'd really be just fine with that. I said, I don't think I'll miss it much... if at all.

Maybe that's when I started to worry. But it's certainly not when I first started to see signs.

The first girl I loved was a friend in elementary school. She was beautiful, popular (at least in my eyes), and she was nice to me. Our friendship continued through middle school, even though I'd moved, and into high school, where we rarely saw one another but we'd had a class or two together. I remember when I was in elementary, I had my first (and as it turned out, my only) sleep-over birthday party, and though I'd invited all of my girl friends, she was the only one to attend. She's still my friend on social networking sites, and I will never, ever tell her I love her.

Even at a young age, I never really understood when my girl friends would say “Oh, he's so cute!” I'd look over at the boy in question and think, okay, this is what cute is. Maybe I thought I was just slow on the hormones (even though I started my period young, at the age of ten) and I would eventually think boys were cute and want a boyfriend as bad as all the other girls did. Even when I did eventually get a boyfriend, he was very feminine (he's quite gay now), and we started dating as kind of a “we've been friends” and he'd already dated literally everyone else in our class. I never sought out male companionship; I just fell into relationships with male friends, and even after break-ups, remained as good friends as I could with them. I genuinely cared about them and I suppose I always knew something was missing from my relationship with them, I just didn't know what.

In high school, I had a crush on a female transfer student. I came out as bisexual verbally to my sister first, then, and explained I was nervous and that I wanted to wear something to impress her. She suggested I talk to Mom about it, and I did... boy, was I terrified. Though Mom had always preached that she didn't care “what” we brought home “as long as they make you happy,” I was still afraid. What girl wouldn't be?

But my mom, bless every ounce of her soul, reacted in a TOTALLY unexpected way. She was ecstatic. She was so happy. She told me even she had some girlfriends over the years but she was afraid of what my sister and I would think. (Well, Mom, I wouldn't have given two shits and I bet my sister wouldn't have, either.)

After that, I breathed a little easier. My crush was straight and had a boyfriend back home, so my efforts to impress her were futile, but I tried anyway. (I still have a thing for accents from a certain country.)

I was never really enamoured with penises.

Let's just leave it at that.

That's not to say that I don't enjoy sex with Ark; I do, and though it just about never happens anymore, I told him tonight that I hope our sexual relationship is not over. I enjoy the closeness, and I genuinely do enjoy getting him off. I don't know why it's easier or more appealing for me to have sex with Ark than with any other man (the idea of it is repulsive, honestly). I explained to him, “I just like all the other stuff in the relationship more.”

Is it possible to be a lesbian and be married to a man?

Is it possible to have a working platonic relationship with your husband?

I should rephrase that. Is it possible for me to have a working, mostly platonic relationship with my husband? Yes, yes I think it is.

This brings me to a new problem: Will most lesbians, and the amazing lesbian/queer community here where I live, accept me as I am?

Probably not.

It is very hard for a marginalized person like me to get into the very cliquey and judgmental groups they live in.

Wait a minute, I just read that sentence over again. Did you? Cause if you see the same thing I see, you just might laugh out loud. If they're cliquey and judgmental, why do I want to be "accepted" by them? Is it because I want the kinship? I am certainly not judgmental—I accept people as they are. I'm often shocked by how racist, sexist and hateful queers can be. We are already the “Other.” We are all linked—we have common ground—in that we love differently. If the community as a whole (I'm not speaking for individuals, as I do have some lesbian friends who are just fine with my situation) shuns me because of the way I live and the way I love, I guess I should just let it go and not worry about it.

Ark and I are doing great. We're treading carefully, but the playfulness, the joy, the laughter, has returned. I'm happier... and so is he, if I may be so bold as to say so. So what if other people look at our relationship, as it is, and think it can't be done? So what if they look at us and think we're crazy? We're doing it. And damn it, we might be crazy, but we're also lovin' it.

My Carefully Scheduled Life

My week starts on Friday. I get up early for work, take a shower, don chef uniform, and go make breakfast for the masses. After a long day of cooking and prepping for the weekend, I clock out and usually I'll go be with Gabriel for a couple hours until Ark gets off work. I'm always hopeful we'll have sex—especially lately, especially with her new toy, which I suspect she enjoys just as much as I do, if not more. But if we don't, that's okay too. It's just nice to get a Gabriel refresher before the long weekend, my work-week, during which I don't usually see her.

On Saturday, I wake up and go to work and work my butt off again. Ark gets off a couple hours earlier on Saturdays, so I'll head home and usually catch a nap before he gets home. Saturdays are Quiet Time At Home With Arkanum.

Sunday: wash, rinse & repeat. The place where Ark works is closed on Sunday and he has designated chores to do on this day. Sometimes I'll clean a bit when I get home, too. Lately, we've been watching Once Upon a Time on ABC—it's right up our alley, plus we really like Ginnifer Goodwin.

Monday's a bit different. If I didn't pack Sunday night before going to sleep, I pack a bag with a fresh set of clothes and the essentials—deodorant, allergy meds, etc. Monday night is my Night With Gabriel.

Tuesday, I try to sleep in as late as possible, which usually ends up being somewhere between 7 and 9 in the morning. Gabriel doesn't like to linger in bed in the morning very long. We go to a local café for breakfast, then sometimes I head home if I have things to do, or I'll spend the rest of the day with her. The evening is spent with Arkanum, watching Glee and New Girl and Raising Hope, and usually having pizza, but we really need to cut back on that delicious, delicious food.

Wednesday it's back to work. I never really know what I'm doing on Wednesday—I'm supposed to see Sir, but I haven't been seeing him regularly for months. As a safe bet, I just don't make plans, and I assume I have the afternoon to myself unless he tells me otherwise. If it's nice out, I'll ride my bike. Or I'll stay in, and take a nap, or read. Or maybe I'll visit a friend. I don't get a lot of time to myself, so the days where I do, I really treasure it.

Then, Thursday is Errand And Chore Day with Arkanum. We get paid, pay bills, and go shopping. Then we come home and are usually exhausted. Then, more TV shows, cuddling, and bed.

Friday, it starts over again.

Every week is the same—or close enough to where the difference doesn't really matter. I crave change. I need it. So, every once in a while, I say, “I'm taking the week off.” And I do what I want. Next week is such a week. It's My Week and I'll do What I Damn Well Feel Like Doing. Last time, I gutted the back part of my apartment and threw out/gave away tons of stuff. Maybe this time, it'll be the front half.

I particularly enjoy having all the extra time with my husband. While we live together, we don't really spend Quality Time together as often as we should or as often as we'd like to. So taking a week off means I'll be home a lot more, and can focus some extra energy on him. A week off also recharges me, and not seeing Gabriel for a week makes me really look forward to seeing her again on Monday. Sometimes I feel like everyone is in demand of my energy, and I never have any for myself—someone's feeling sad, or sick, or needy in some way and eventually I run out of resources and that's all I see them as—needy. And that's not a good way to see someone you love.

So a break—a vacation—from my poly schedule, is good for everyone.

Anxious

After a silly bout of social anxiety, and once my flimsy excuse for staying in was no longer valid, Ark and I went out to a local meet to see some friends. I won't lie about it, not to myself or anyone else: it is really hard for me to get out of the house to do anything. I will say, “I'm going to go out to this event,” or “I'm going to so-and-so's house to hang,” but at the last moment I'll have some excuse not to go. It isn't that I don't want to go, but for some reason, I panic. I don't like people. I may like these people, but I don't like people as a group. I often don't have the mental/emotional capacity to deal with them, and I get claustrophobic if there are a lot of people around. If I'm feeling particularly shy, I will hang around Ark and let him do the talking, choosing instead to observe and listen. Alternatively, if I'm feeling manic, I will chat up the nearest person, me with a shaky voice and twiddling fingers and bouncing legs.

Regardless of the social events, if I do too much at once, I will be drained for days and require recoup time. Pushing myself out the door takes energy, and being with people takes energy, and coming home and winding down takes energy. (Yes, I said winding down takes energy.) Sometimes, after an event, I'll come home feeling super charged with energy, and I won't be able to sit still.

I had been working on it, getting better at mastering my anxiety and managing to get out for events sometimes two or three times a week. But it's been getting harder. Actually, doing everything is getting harder.

I had to admit to myself that something is probably wrong with me on a chemical level after having a second anxiety attack at work. It's not something my coworkers need to see or be around, and I don't like feeling this way. When asked recently what was wrong, all I could come up with was, “I'm just sad. All the time.”

I wrote about being afraid of admitting that I have depression before. I'm still afraid of it, but I think I'm coming to grips with it. I need to see a doctor and I'm hoping that will help me make some sense of it all. I know now that this is more than just my normal winter blues, and I have to take action if I want to get through it.

Blogging helps. I know this isn't poly-related, but this is also kind of a personal blog, and nothing has been going on poly-wise worth talking about (I know! Happy poly! Who knew?!), so I thought I'd drop this update while I had the time and energy to put it out.

A lot of changes will be happening 2012. I can feel it.