Polymadison
I found this pen and paper in the drawer next to the primo-luxe California King bed. I wonder if some time long ago hoteliers realized that their establishments were often used to nefarious means and people might want to confess their sins before (or after) shit goes down. In any event, I’m grateful for the opportunity to air my transgressions before Derek gets here.
Derek. What a fucking stupid name. I can’t even say it out loud without cringing...thank God I don’t usually say my lover’s name in bed. Though, to be clear, he’s not my lover yet. He’s just some...guy. No, he’s more than that. I wonder if Kate said that about me the first time we met up. See, Kate is a good name. It’s strong and to the point, yet universally friendly. Kinda like how Kate is all the time.
I remember talking to her for the first time. We met at a lunch thrown by a local polyamorous group . She was part of an imploding triad and was seeking asylum, I think with anyone who was willing to absorb her energy. I had just been dumped by my very first boyfriend for another man and his wife, so I was dealing with crippling loneliness. You can see why we gravitated towards each other. Kate was a pseudo-hippie, the type that wore patchouli infested silk and had dreads that were probably cool in the 90s even though she was as pale and as Irish as you could get this side of Ireland. She was everything I wasn’t.
I went home with her that evening and basically never left. Sure, she NEVER cleaned, rode a bike everywhere, and she was a goddamn vegetarian, but she grabbed a hold something in me and never let go. We married in Sedona at sunset (her choice) and honeymooned in Tokyo (my choice). For a long time I thought we were enough for each other. We settled into a routine in San Francisco. I’d go to my tech job and do tech things while Kate stayed home and did...well, Kate things. I never really knew what she did all day, but she was always seemed relieved when I came home. Looking back it’s as though weeknight television and home improvement projects on Saturday muddled who we used to be. More specifically, who Kate used to be.
At the time I was surprised that Annie moved in as quickly as she did. Though given my initial experience with Kate I really shouldn’t be. We met Annie at a local hipster bar that serves these kombucha cocktails Kate loves. Annie was a new bartender and even though she didn’t know what an old-fashioned was Kate and I were both smitten. Annie was everything Kate wasn’t: curvy, blonde, loud, and tattooed. After a few nights of flirting over the shitty cocktails Annie made, we invited her home. I’m not one to kiss and tell, but Jesus Christ the sex was fucking unbelievable. I saw a side of Kate that I had never seen before, and I was relieved. Annie brought out in Kate what I couldn’t, and I knew that I’d feel so much closer to her because now I knew all of her. Like me, Annie arrived and never left. That was four years ago.
We had a ceremony to bond Annie to Kate and me, and life was bliss for a few months. Annie continued her job at the bar (surprisingly...she never could make a decent cocktail) while Kate stayed at home and continued to do Kate things. I went to my tech job and did tech things, and every night I went home to two amazing women. I was living every dude’s fantasy.
And yet, it wasn’t enough.
Annie and Kate were in love. I was in love with Annie and Kate. Over time it was apparent that while they both loved me, there wasn’t a lot of room for me in the relationship. I came to that realization, humorously enough, after a particularly steamy evening in which I did more watching than participating. It wasn’t heartbreaking at all, it just...was. I spent some time thinking about our relationship and the dynamic, and I think the reason I wasn’t devastated was because it shone a light on an aspect of myself I’ve been ignoring since I met Kate.
I unequivocally and wholeheartedly crave dicks other than my own.
I’m not ashamed in any way. And I wasn’t hiding it because of Kate. It was more like she filled every part of me that needed substance, and now that she wasn’t entirely mine anymore, I had a deeply ingrained void that needed filling, I guess in more ways than one.
Annie, Kate, and I were in a closed relationship, and in the beginning we all felt very strongly about that. After I had my epiphany regarding our situation I made a comment about bringing another man around, just to test the waters. My commitment was questioned, my comment dismissed. Our triad was complete, end of story. Their possessiveness confused me; I wonder if their reaction would have been different had I said something about bringing home another woman. On the other hand, when you have a love like Annie and Kate have, you don’t need anything else. So there I was, a married man in an unfulfilling relationship. What was I to do?
Two words: Ashley Madison.
I know, much like the name Derek, those words make me cringe like crazy. But I had no other choice! Too many members of the poly community that we used to be involved in cruise Craigslist. Tinder and Grindr seemed sleazy and impersonal. And really, I needed to find someone who was sensitive to my situation; discretion was paramount. Ashley Madison seemed like a good option to explore. When I first filled out my profile I wasn’t sure if I’d actually follow through with meeting someone. I saw my fair share of losers, but it was refreshing to find so many guys that were (or said they were) in my position. Messages flew back and forth, and as to be expected nothing really turned into anything. Until Derek.
After exchanging a few messages I felt a similarity in Derek that I didn’t feel with Kate and Annie. He understood me, and I like to think I understood him. Not to mention he was hot as fuck. Website messages turned into texts that turned into sexts. He wanted to Skype and I was nervous, but I needed to make sure he was the Derek he projected electronically. When he appeared on my laptop screen I was both relieved and incredibly excited. Derek was completely real and genuine; from his perfect cheekbones all the way down to his cock, which he enthusiastically displayed on cam for me. Let me tell you, the previous pics did not do him justice.
Am I an asshole for not feeling guilty? Probably. But it’s so fucking hard living with the impenetrable force that is Kate and Annie’s connection. I couldn’t take being the caregiver/brother anymore. One evening after Kate and Annie were joking about turning into lesbians I told Derek everything. Previously I had wanted to keep him at a distance because somehow in my head it made me less of a sneaky jerk, but I needed to talk to someone, anyone. I didn’t even care if he ghosted after that, I just wanted someone to listen.
And Derek listened. And listened. He didn’t leave. Instead, we made plans to meet in person.
So here I am, sitting at this desk in a posh hotel, waiting for the first man I’ve been with in 10 years and I’m feeling surprisingly, guilty. Hence why I’m confessing via ballpoint pen. Maybe I’ll save this to give to Kate when the time is right. Or maybe I’ll make copies and give them to both Kate and Annie to show them how they’ve pushed me away. I might just leave it for the maid.
There’s someone knocking at the door. Fuck, I’m nervous.