I’ve gone back and forth for a few days on how to write this post and whether I should even write it. But, when I started this blog almost six months ago, I set out with the intention of sharing stories about my silly little life as honestly and as transparently as possible. So, that’s what I’m going to do.
Saturday was a slightly difficult day. B’s band played in a festival in his hometown, and I’d been looking forward to it for months. I had plans to go with some friends and introduce him to them. But, they canceled due to illness at the last minute – completely understandable. I’m currently driving my husband’s behemoth of a truck as I no longer have my car and don’t have a new one yet. As a relatively inexperienced driver, I find this incredibly intimidating. I had planned to ride with my friend, but now I was going to have to drive myself 150 miles in a vehicle that scares me. Deep breaths were taken, and I did it. And it was fine. Scary, but uneventful.
Another layer of nervousness was that B’s other partner was going to be there with a group of her friends, including his ex-wife. She has (reasonably) requested that, for the time being, he keeps his relationships separate. She does not wish to meet me, and that is absolutely okay. She knew I would be in attendance, and I knew that she would be, too. I had promised to maintain a respectful distance if I saw her, and I had no negative feelings about doing so. The last thing I want is to make her feel uncomfortable.
So, I made the drive. I parked at a Walmart and took a cab downtown, and found my man. I hadn’t seen him in three weeks, and it felt so good to grab him and give him a big hug. I’ve been missing him hard lately. I was so excited to have a little time to hang out and just be with him. He told me how happy he was that I was there and that it meant so much to him that I’d made the trip to watch him play. Especially by myself. Especially in the truck.
We got very little actual time together, which I was expecting. He was playing a show, there was stuff to do, he was busy. We had to be more restrained than usual in our physical interactions, in case his other partner was nearby – a boundary that had been previously set and agreed to. But it was difficult. I wanted more time. I wanted more touch. I wanted more everything.
As I said, none of these restrictions were unpredicted. We had discussed them, and very realistic expectations had been set. I know he felt that struggle, too. He called me during my drive home, and I told him how good it had been to see him and that I had been missing him hard in the weeks since I’d last seen him. He responded emphatically, ‘I still miss you!’. He said he was sorry we couldn’t make out, that he had wanted to. Ugh. So had I.
But I’m jumping ahead.
The show was awesome. The guys rocked it. Everyone sounded fantastic and looked absurd. They played a perfect set, and I was so proud of him. Before the show he told me, ‘I’m playing for you tonight’. Swoon. That shit gets me every time, I can’t pretend it doesn’t. I put myself in the front of the crowd, where he’d be able to spot me. I always make sure he can see me. I see him look for me, and then grin when he finds me. And it feels really, really good. Lovesick teenager kind of good.
When the set was over, I walked over to the fence (that separated the area for the public from the area for the performers and crew) to wait for him. It was dark by then, around 10:30pm. And then I saw his other partner and her group of friends. Shit. I walked away. I went and sat on a curb, further down the fence, against a building. I sat there for a while. He texted that he would be out to see me soon.
A group of women walked over, and one sat down beside me. Her legs were hurting. She was clearly pretty drunk, but it wasn’t a problem. She seemed familiar, but it was dark. I was texting a friend, not paying much attention. And then I heard someone say, ‘Is that Sarah?’
His other partner and her group were all around me. The woman next to me was a friend of his who I had met before. My metamour and B’s ex-wife walked away. The rest were still there. They were all drunk. One other friend came over, and they were talking about my jacket. It wasn’t an unpleasant interaction. But these were her friends. I had already removed myself once. This time, I was staying in my spot. I was in a corner, and they had come to me.
At some point, quite quickly, her friends realized she wasn’t there. They asked each other where she went. Someone called her. They told her they were still in the same place she had left them. I can only guess that she explained she had walked away because I was there. At that moment, they stopped interacting with me. She came back, or at least I think she did. I didn’t dare to look. I stared at my shoes. At the ground. Anywhere but up at her. They all stood there a while longer, and then eventually they left en masse.
I felt sick. Anxious. Awkward. Uncomfortable. I felt like it was wrong of me to be there. I felt like I was his mistress and that she was his ‘real’ partner. I was shaken. And frustrated. It didn’t have to be that way. No one has done anything wrong, and she and I would very likely get along if we got to know each other. I would actually like that. But I had promised I wouldn’t approach her or speak to her. That I would maintain a respectful distance. I had walked away once. But when I was literally on the ground, and in a corner, there was nowhere to go.
A short while later, he came out to see me. He only had a few minutes. I told him they were great, that the show was perfect, that I was proud of him. I told him I had seen his other partner but that we hadn’t spoken. There wasn’t time right then to tell him all of it. We said our goodbyes and I left.
I had a lot of mixed feelings on that 150-mile trip back. About whether or not it was right for me to go. And whether I was happy that I went. Eventually, I reasoned, I hadn’t wondered those things until I encountered my metamour. I love showing up to support him, and he loves having me there, so ultimately I decided that I was glad I went. However, I’m not sure I would do it again under the same circumstances. Until she and I are able to be comfortable around each other, I don’t think I want to put myself in that situation again. It didn’t feel good. In fact, it felt pretty fucking rotten.
As I said, he called me on my drive home, and I told him the whole story. He was worried about how she would be feeling. And sorry for how I was feeling. But he was glad I’d come, and told me again that it meant a lot to him. He used the words ‘polyamorous relationship’ to describe our situation for the first time ever. And he’s right. That is what this is now.
We are working on plans to see each other again as soon as possible. We both need some ‘us’ time right now. It’s just finding that time that has been challenging. But we will figure it out. We always do.
Fat and Slutty 