Moonlight & Mourning Monogamy
After Hibiscus left for his weekend trip I found my mood changing rapidly. Where I had been giddy, now I was lost. Where I had been aroused, now I was tried. Where I had been excited, now I was tentative. Where I had been wise, now I was desolate. Where I had been angry, now I was weeping.
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Saturday evening I curled up on Hibiscus's bed and Paladin sat on the edge to wish me goodnight.
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"The energy in here is so different from the rest of the house," I said.
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"Yes. I can see why you like it."
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"I'm going to be so much sadder when I leave here and I can't lay in his bed and smell him and feel his energy around me."
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Paladin stroked my hair affectionately.
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Sunday morning I said to Paladin: "I'm at a loss for what to refer to Hibiscus as. He went on a very touching rant about wanting to call me something more meaningful than 'his girlfriend' and decided to call me his love. I like that, but I can't do that in turn, because I have two loves. It doesn't work to call one or both of you 'my love' as if it is singular. It doesn't have enough specificness to Hibiscus."
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"I can see what you mean," Paladin said.
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"I want to call him something that means something to me," I said.
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"You could call him your sugardaddy," Paladin joked.
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"Oh god, I've been trying not to do that! It keeps popping up in my head. Cheanna would like that, but that just doesn't cover it. And that would be so awkward to introduce him as that!"
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I thought about it for a while, and then said, "There is some element of sugar-daddy that really fits beyond the money connotation." I paused, contemplating the daddy part. "Protector," I said.
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"Uhm," Paladin said, clearly taken aback. "But I think of myself as your protector."
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"Oh," I said, blushing. "It's cute I stepped on your toes with that one. I couldn't introduce him as that anyway."
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"Maybe call him your dark knight and me your white knight."
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"I already call you my Paladin. And 'dark knight' isn't quite right. He's more like my moonlight and you're my sunshine."
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Paladin chuckled. "You do always say I'm golden like the sun."
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"You are, with your golden hair, golden skin and auburn eyes."
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And he is like moonlight, I thought. Mystical, silver-haired, blue-eyed, and filled with a magical presence that shines in the midst of a dark sky.
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"Neither partner nor lover are specific enough. I like how that one woman we met used the phrase 'nesting partner.' It was specific and person to her relationship with that individual. I want something that specific, but ideally something that feels like one word. I think it would be strange to call him my moon though."
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Later that same morning I said to Paladin: "He hasn't seen me cry - not really. I've been repressing it, but I think that's okay. I think I just wanted to soak in all the fun feelings. Why spend time dwelling on them when reveling in the experience of new relationship energy?"
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And yet, I knew I had been feeling something sad beneath it all for days. Starting on Wednesday I had started hearing a song in my head. It had been triggered by reading some of my writing from 2004. There had been mention of the song Walking Wounded by Tea Party. In the midst of new love, and surrounded by things I loved, I couldn't understand why it kept playing in my head.
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It opens up with, "Is it safe to look within, and erase all that's been?"
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Is it safe to look within? I wonder. What might I find there?
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I'm afraid to think too hard about this growing obsession with Hibiscus. It started out so innocent - a meeting of two minds, a dance of two sets of perspectives and emotions. I know what love is - this kind of love. It is attachment, it is obsession, it is need, it is desire, it is lust, it is passion.
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I didn't see it as a bad thing, but I knew enough now to know that for every incredibly blissful experience, there would be a balance of pain. In a way, that wasn't so scary, because part of the pleasure I was gleaning from it actually came from past pains. That delicious contrast of scarcity and abundance, of betrayal and trust.
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And erase all that's been. What am I erasing? What am I afraid to erase? I thought of Mordred, my inner rapist. I'm addicted to black magic, I realized Saturday night as I talked to Paladin about the experiences I'd had with Hibiscus. I'm addicted to the pleasure that comes from taking power, taking innocence from another person. I'd never done that in my lifetime as Nuria, and yet I powerfully resonated to past times where I had. I couldn't really see myself ever doing anything like that in the future as Nuria either, and yet, my fantasies were powerful.
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In my fantasies Mordred found pleasure and power by stealing from other parts of me. Black magic, his art, is one where you take the passion, fire, hopes, dreams, light, love and creative energy of someone and kill it. In exchange, the black artist gleans pleasure, and a dose of intoxicating power. The power is creative, the power is tainted, and the power is beautiful. It can be used for good things, but the obtaining of it is . . . something akin to evil. And those who use black magic rarely use their power for anything other than further dark works.
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How insane of me, to use this on myself for pleasure. How much more sadomasochistic can I get?
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And yet, I was terrified of losing Mordred.
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"The pleasure I get from Mordred is only trumped by my greatest moments of light," I said to Paladin. "The only thing that is more exciting, more fulfilling for me is my connection with nature. That is why I get so lost in my obsession with my rape fantasies. Nothing pleases me more than those besides trees, harvesting fruits, and nature."
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"That makes sense," he said. "In fact, it is similar to my obsession with video games. In them I can be destructive, dark, chaotic and evil, but nobody actually gets hurt. It allows me to vent that part of myself without actually hurting anyone I love."
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"This explains why I see nature scenes when I try to have innocent fantasies. I always see raspberries at their peak of ripeness, and often fruit trees and milking goats." It never ceased to amaze me that I could become aroused thinking about picking raspberries.
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Tea Party's song continues: "And all that's been between . . . Is it gone? Tell me what went wrong. 'Cause baby I'm not that strong."
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This line worried me the most. Was I really so terrified that I'd lost something with Paladin as I found myself falling, falling into a desperate need to feel close to Hibiscus?
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"You're so afraid that you're weak," Paladin said. "But you're not."
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"I know I'm not," I said. Then I sighed. "But I believe I'm strong because of what I've done, not because of who I am inherently. I am strong because of my diet. I am strong because of my past lessons from my relationships. I am strong because of my choices to connect with nature and myself. I am strong because of how I can perform consciousness alchemy."
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"You're strong even without all of that," Paladin said.
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I smiled sadly. "I don't feel that I am."
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Tea Party continues, "And I'm walking wounded. All Alone."
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That I could easily relate to . . . once Hibiscus left. But why did I feel connection to that song before he left? And how could I be alone?
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Mordred is alone. Mordred is seeing himself for the first time. His victim showed him to himself. Now he's starting to process. It must be that it comes from him. But that explanation didn't satisfy me, and the song continued. Sunday morning when I woke it started playing in my mind immediately, and it continued in the car to and from the farmer's market, and it continued still after we returned to Hibiscus's place.
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I was in the bathroom when I heard in my mind, for the fortieth time or so, "Does it satisfy your greed? Is it all you need? Is it all you want?"
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It had played in my head to response to opening a bottle of kombucha that Hibiscus had bought me. At first I thought I had just uncovered a further part of the ongoing process about money being a love language, but no . . .
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I'm mourning monogomy. It hit me and chills went up and down my body. I was frozen in the bathroom. I looked into the mirror and saw my parted lips, my stunned eyes, my messy braided hair, my home-made clothes . . . I felt shocked. I'm mourning monogomy, I thought again. Chills went down my spine again and goosebumps raised all over my body. I felt that I was on the verge of tears.
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I went into my room and wrote:
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It won't ever be as simple again. I wasn't really ready before. Maybe I wasn't really trying, and that is why I manifested people who were not it so clearly.
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Jackal and Basket Bear - Atheists, as if an atheist could ever accept me, understand me and love me the way I need. Otter, too, for that matter.
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Panda - As if I could be with a vegan so die-hard he thought my local, raw, grass-fed milk was wrong. As if I could be with someone in such denial of their own emotions, and who truly believed people could be evil.
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Eagle - So beautiful, so elegant, so magical. Yes, an artist, a dancer, and in prime shape. He even had the blue eyes and golden curls I tend to idolize so much. Yes, his sex was magnificent. But oh, to think I should ever chase a man who wasn't captivated by me anymore. To think I'd chase a man who was afraid of commitment.
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Ocimum - A dancer of sorts, an herbalist . . . Yet so out of touch with himself and not ready for me, not ready for change.
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(Nuria looks around for an entry that mentions Eagle and finds this one, where Ocimum and Eagle both are discussed. And then there is this one, where I give an overview of some of my disappointments with polyamory and the various characters I just mentioned.)
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And most recently, Gongchan. Better. Spiritually inclined, fit, fun, and talented. Able to teach me new things. Interested in bettering himself. And yet, so stunningly emotionally unavailable. I took his virginity, and yet, he didn't orgasm. He didn't even want more the following day.
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And yet, with so many billion people on the planet, and my incredible abilities to manifest what I desire - were these attempts serious?
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"Well baby I'm not that strong . . . And I'm walking wounded . . . All Alone."
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Have I been afraid that I couldn't bring enough to the table for two men?
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Have I been afraid that I didn't deserve polyamory because of the extreme jealousy I experienced from the single kiss that Oryx and Paladin shared?
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Back in December of 2014 I realized I was so conflicted about Oryx that I actually wished she would die. It was hard for me to admit that to myself, and I used thoughts about polyamory, Eagle, Gongchan, Dolphin and so forth, to distract myself from realizing it.
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I'm doing the same thing right now - exploring concepts, past events and ideas to distract myself from what I'm feeling.
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My heart hurts. I'm aching inside. I feel somewhat sick to my stomach. I want to curl up in Hibiscus's arms and feel safe. I want to feel like his little princess, priceless and cherished. I want to be his everything.
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I still hold a monogomy model in my head. I think of being "his everything." I'm terrified of him finding another girlfriend who can be here for him full-time, whereas I need to figure out how to write my books, make my board games, travel the country, discover what it means to be a consciousness alchemist, be there for Paladin and be everything to Hibiscus.
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Why do I feel that way?
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I want to be owned. Being owned makes me feel safe. Being autonomous makes me feel alone.
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"And I'm walking wounded . . . All Alone . . . How does it feel? Tell me, how does it feel? Baby, how . . ."
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Sunday morning I put the song on and I balled. I hadn't realized yet that I was mourning monogamy, and yet it struck me to my core. "Does is satisfy your greed?" His voice asks it so desperately.
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I'm greedy because I can't get enough love from one man. I need more time, more love, more gifts, more attention, more awe, more sex, more passion. I need more teachers.
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Why did those thoughts hurt so much? I'm afraid I can't be enough to deserve all that I want. I'm afraid I can't offer enough to be worthy of receiving the lifestyle I want - need - to live.
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A life of cleaning, food preparation, gardening, decorating, drawing, writing, reading, sex, singing, dancing, playing, and consciousness alchemy. A life of artisan organic clothes, artisan possessions. A life filled with unusual and stunningly beautiful board games. A life filled with consciousness alchemy. A life with raw goat milk, fresh berries, bee pollen, kombucha, coconut water and greek yogurt. A life of giving lectures, leading meditations, and being worshiped as a goddess of compassion, wisdom, knowledge and sexual appeal.
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"If your memories do stray . . . Then they'll betray . . . all that's past. And all that's been between, is it gone? Tell me what went wrong . . . 'Cause baby I'm not that strong."
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Betray . . . Betray . . . My thoughts repeated, like an echo. I feel like I've betrayed Paladin. He tells me he feels more secure in some ways now, and less so in others. He tells me it is cute watching me be hopelessly romantic in the things I am doing today for Hibiscus. And yet, does he deserve this? I would hate me if I were him. I would be dying inside if I were him. What did I do to deserve someone who could take this from me?
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Hibiscus's words also rolled through my mind: "I appreciate that she has someone who lives up to her standards of beauty."
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And Paladin's: "I'm relieved that you've found someone who can fulfill you sexually."
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Hibiscus: "Nuria, my love."
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Paladin: "I had been shutting down to kill myself." He'd said that when I told him I was leaving him back in July. Without me, he'd decided he'd rather die. Responsibility for someone else's life . . . It is up to me to save him, I thought.
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And yet. And yet.
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I was doing it. I was pleasing two men at once. So far. What if I couldn't keep it up? Would it really hurt any less to have one's heart broken if one still has someone to lean on?
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I began to think it wouldn't hurt any less. Grief has a way of making its presence eclipse love entirely. Dragon had told me that. Dragon had meditated with me a month after I'd left him, back in 2006.
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"The heart chakra, which is blocked by grief," he'd said. Then he'd begun to cry. "You're able to feel your heart. You're ahead of me," he said. He was still grieving the loss of our relationship. I'd already done that before I got up the guts to leave him.
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My heart overfilled. Joy, sadness, grief and love seemed to all play their parts in turn within me. And tomorrow I'd be leaving Hibiscus's home and returning to Snowland with Paladin. Tomorrow I'll be leaving a piece of me here at Silverstag, I thought, my lips trembling.
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Sunday evening I sat down to letters from Hibiscus.