Red Turns to Green, Eventually (or) The Map of Bree's Kooky Sex Life, Part One (of Four)

Recently, two events in the Facebook universe have inspired me to do some navel-gazing (even more than the usual level, if it can be imagined) about my relationship to relationshipping. The first was the unexpected communication from Bianca, which you read about in a recent entry. The second was the mistake (or maybe it was a fruitful misstep) of accepting my aunt Rhoda's friend invitation, knowing she was going to make some sort of intrusive comment about my open relationship status on my profile. As predicted, the very first message I get from her on Facebook (thank god she didn't post it on my wall!) is simply:

Title of message: "O.R., hmmm..."
Body of message: "Dangerous territory."

When I responded with a quip that being in an open relationship is better than relationship stagnation, she didn't register the joke (pointing not so subtlety in her direction) and proceeded to claim vast knowledge on this issue from "personal experience" and to grill me about whether Astrid and I are in therapy.

Now, I know that Rhoda is just concerned about me, and granted, she's doing it in a hip, been-there-done-that kinda bohemian artiste way, and not in a prunesy old spinster aunt haven't-had-nothin'-near-my-twat-since-the-Ford-administration way, but the message couldn't be clearer: you don't know what you're doing, and this is wrong.

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This frustrating exchange with Rhoda paired with the more positive (but still quite emotionally provoking) communication I had with Bianca conjured up a lot of rumination for me about my relationship history, and just how far back polyamory goes in my life. While it may be new information to Aunt Rhoda, I've been in some form of nonmonogamous situation in all my significant relationships since the first time I kissed Scarlett back in 1991, when I was all of 19 years old. Of course, I cannot boast the cleanest, most conscientious record devoid of any moral ambiguity or outright impropriety for these last eighteen years; nevertheless, on contemplating this history—and geekily applying it to eleven color-coded charts—I realize that the improprieties began to melt away with the years of experience. I don't have it all figured out by any means, but I (now, at least) know how to be honest with my partners and my lovers, and honor my own desire for more loving connections (or just playfully sexy ones) in my life.

So, over the course of several entries, I'll be guiding you through the sometimes naïve, often messy, and always amusing history of my poly love life, as seen in two-dimensional line-drawn splendor!





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1991. Top row: Me, Scarlett, her husband Norbert; bottom row: Scarlett's other lover D., and his girlfriend R. Drama factor (scale of 1 to 10) 6.5. Notes: As far as I knew, Norbert was vaguely aware that Scarlett had other lovers, but it wasn't go-go-go polyamory. Meanwhile, D., Scarlett's other lover, happened to be my boss at the hippy-dippy café where I worked, and his short-term girlfriend during this hot mess was Scarlett's lifelong best friend. High point: Scarlett literally made my knees weak. Low point: bless her, but she was such a tease.

1992. Top row: Me, Iris; bottom row: a one-night stand crush of mine named Ria, and the multitude of her minions. Drama factor: 2. Notes: Iris and I were each other's first official girlfriends, and this first incarnation of our romantic relationship lasted all of two months. While Iris was away for the holidays, I slept with Ria, who was Mrs. C's housemate. I had somehow thought this was okay with Iris, on account of having discussed nonmonogamy with her, but years later, I found out talking about the issue abstractly did not constitute consent in her eyes. Go figure! Thankfully, our relationship as friends survived the indiscretion. High point: Ria was just plain hot. Low point: This might be the only time I've really "cheated" on someone.

Jump to Part Two
Jump to Part Three
Jump to Part Four