Primary
[cross-post from Fetlife]
It's sometimes funny, and sometimes uncomfortable, that so many of y'all are meeting me at this point in my life, when I'm more superficially heteronormative than at almost any other time. Because of the ways I cannot compromise, because of the level of freedom I need to be happy, I did not expect to end up with a primary partner. Sure, it might happen, but I wasn't waiting for it or worrying about it. For most of my adult life I've done best as a non-primary partner to relatively large numbers of people (it's typical for me to have a half-dozen or so pretty long-term involvements of all different shapes and intensities). I liked the freedom, liked how my more outrageous side brought down thunder only on me, without worrying about collateral damage to others by association. I created my household to fill my need for family, and those who've known me since college know that I always wanted communal households, not a partnership. I live in networks, not dyads. I don't want everything from one person, it makes me feel uncomfortably dependent, and that's not ok for me.
Chad was a late-in-the-game surprise, to say the least. As dearly as I love him and Kidlet, they shifted my life on its axis, and its taken a while to restabilize. I still chafe a bit at how it changes how the world tends to read me. But he continues to amaze me more every day with his ability to accept and love and _welcome_ all the parts of me that make me a good fantasy and bad reality for so many people. Ooh, I'm a bi-poly-kinky-nudist-sexgeek-babe isn't that hot? Um, yeah, until you realize you're going to have to enter my life as a potential primary when I have decade-long girlfriends whose place is sacrosanct in my life, and most certainly not on the chopping block for a new partner's comfort. Until you realize your parents may read about me at this protest or that, or see me out with other partners, and that even if none of that happens, that although I may not volunteer information that's awkward for you, I won't lie if asked, that I will chafe even at the "not volunteering" part, because I'm chatty and this is my life. Until you realize that my fascination with sex, and discussing sexuality, is never going to let you pretend for one minute that you're my only lover, so you better be deep-down ok with that. Until you realize the fun porn and smutty writings are public and searchable and tied to my identity. Until you realize I will fall passionately in love with other people and want you to be my best friend and hear all about it. Until you realize that I am philosophically incapable of not being a scandalous woman from a long line of scandalous women, and I like it that way. Until you realize that my politics _deeply_ inform my beliefs on child-rearing; there is nothing "just in the bedroom" about dating an activist. I am the _wrong_ primary partner for most people. That's truly fine, and it was never a do-or-die relationship configuration for me anyway.
Chad fully accepts that he's a grown-up who has chosen to be involved with me, with everything that entails, and he has not flinched from that, even when it's sometimes difficult for his more introverted nature. And he is never begrudging or guilt-inducing about giving me that space, either. Guilt and shame destroy me, and I am extraordinarily sensitive to them. I can't be with a primary partner who _copes_ with me expressing myself, I have to be with those who _want_ me to. That's a lot to ask, it's part of what makes me such a difficult primary -- life and emotional entwinement on that level asks much more of a partner. It's part of why Chad has been such an amazing surprise. Even when we have our struggles, he _wants_ that for me, _wants_ to work on things in order to support my freedom more wholely. And I want it for him, too. Our philosophies and need for freedom are so similar, dovetail so wonderfully. I'm the loud one and he's the quiet one, and there's a lot of our partnership others never really see; how his stubbornness balances my force of personality, how he supports and accepts me through the hardest times, takes care of me whenever I need it, navigates the complexities of our lives with me. How queered any relationship with me in it necessarily is, how different our poly rules are than many people's (pretty far on the "no rules" end of the poly continuum, not a good fit for even many other polyfolk).
Part of what I love about being poly, and part of what prompted this part of the post, is that my relationships nurture each other. That's what I want and need. The happier I am in one relationship, the more I feel the joy and good fortune of my entire life and appreciate my other partners more deeply. Tends to make for amazing cycles of sexual energy, too. And giving each other love and acceptance through our individual relationship woes is part of how we maintain and build closeness. Right now I'm so, so sad, but also so fortunate. It's a lot of contradictory intensity to hold in my head simultaneously, so I needed to to write it down.
I should note that I was able to write this, and express this important element of who I am, because Chad and I have talked deeply and continuously about my need to be out, about what that means when my posts on FB (where I'll probably cross-post this) talk about kink identity (or any of my other outside-the-mainstream identities and views) and his family can read them, for example. He has given me extraordinary freedom to express myself how I feel moved to, and to handle the consequences if they arise. Four years in, and so far his family has been wonderfully accepting of me, although I think I baffled them a good bit in the beginning. (Mine's already well-broken-in after 40 years with me)
(I do tend to think that cheerful proactive casual honesty is a very practical coping tactic. Being neither ashamed nor argumentative seems to walk a pretty effective line in terms of the reactions it elicits.)
It's sometimes funny, and sometimes uncomfortable, that so many of y'all are meeting me at this point in my life, when I'm more superficially heteronormative than at almost any other time. Because of the ways I cannot compromise, because of the level of freedom I need to be happy, I did not expect to end up with a primary partner. Sure, it might happen, but I wasn't waiting for it or worrying about it. For most of my adult life I've done best as a non-primary partner to relatively large numbers of people (it's typical for me to have a half-dozen or so pretty long-term involvements of all different shapes and intensities). I liked the freedom, liked how my more outrageous side brought down thunder only on me, without worrying about collateral damage to others by association. I created my household to fill my need for family, and those who've known me since college know that I always wanted communal households, not a partnership. I live in networks, not dyads. I don't want everything from one person, it makes me feel uncomfortably dependent, and that's not ok for me.
Chad was a late-in-the-game surprise, to say the least. As dearly as I love him and Kidlet, they shifted my life on its axis, and its taken a while to restabilize. I still chafe a bit at how it changes how the world tends to read me. But he continues to amaze me more every day with his ability to accept and love and _welcome_ all the parts of me that make me a good fantasy and bad reality for so many people. Ooh, I'm a bi-poly-kinky-nudist-sexgeek-babe isn't that hot? Um, yeah, until you realize you're going to have to enter my life as a potential primary when I have decade-long girlfriends whose place is sacrosanct in my life, and most certainly not on the chopping block for a new partner's comfort. Until you realize your parents may read about me at this protest or that, or see me out with other partners, and that even if none of that happens, that although I may not volunteer information that's awkward for you, I won't lie if asked, that I will chafe even at the "not volunteering" part, because I'm chatty and this is my life. Until you realize that my fascination with sex, and discussing sexuality, is never going to let you pretend for one minute that you're my only lover, so you better be deep-down ok with that. Until you realize the fun porn and smutty writings are public and searchable and tied to my identity. Until you realize I will fall passionately in love with other people and want you to be my best friend and hear all about it. Until you realize that I am philosophically incapable of not being a scandalous woman from a long line of scandalous women, and I like it that way. Until you realize that my politics _deeply_ inform my beliefs on child-rearing; there is nothing "just in the bedroom" about dating an activist. I am the _wrong_ primary partner for most people. That's truly fine, and it was never a do-or-die relationship configuration for me anyway.
Chad fully accepts that he's a grown-up who has chosen to be involved with me, with everything that entails, and he has not flinched from that, even when it's sometimes difficult for his more introverted nature. And he is never begrudging or guilt-inducing about giving me that space, either. Guilt and shame destroy me, and I am extraordinarily sensitive to them. I can't be with a primary partner who _copes_ with me expressing myself, I have to be with those who _want_ me to. That's a lot to ask, it's part of what makes me such a difficult primary -- life and emotional entwinement on that level asks much more of a partner. It's part of why Chad has been such an amazing surprise. Even when we have our struggles, he _wants_ that for me, _wants_ to work on things in order to support my freedom more wholely. And I want it for him, too. Our philosophies and need for freedom are so similar, dovetail so wonderfully. I'm the loud one and he's the quiet one, and there's a lot of our partnership others never really see; how his stubbornness balances my force of personality, how he supports and accepts me through the hardest times, takes care of me whenever I need it, navigates the complexities of our lives with me. How queered any relationship with me in it necessarily is, how different our poly rules are than many people's (pretty far on the "no rules" end of the poly continuum, not a good fit for even many other polyfolk).
Part of what I love about being poly, and part of what prompted this part of the post, is that my relationships nurture each other. That's what I want and need. The happier I am in one relationship, the more I feel the joy and good fortune of my entire life and appreciate my other partners more deeply. Tends to make for amazing cycles of sexual energy, too. And giving each other love and acceptance through our individual relationship woes is part of how we maintain and build closeness. Right now I'm so, so sad, but also so fortunate. It's a lot of contradictory intensity to hold in my head simultaneously, so I needed to to write it down.
I should note that I was able to write this, and express this important element of who I am, because Chad and I have talked deeply and continuously about my need to be out, about what that means when my posts on FB (where I'll probably cross-post this) talk about kink identity (or any of my other outside-the-mainstream identities and views) and his family can read them, for example. He has given me extraordinary freedom to express myself how I feel moved to, and to handle the consequences if they arise. Four years in, and so far his family has been wonderfully accepting of me, although I think I baffled them a good bit in the beginning. (Mine's already well-broken-in after 40 years with me)
(I do tend to think that cheerful proactive casual honesty is a very practical coping tactic. Being neither ashamed nor argumentative seems to walk a pretty effective line in terms of the reactions it elicits.)