It was this time of year, twelve years ago, that Scott and I fell in love. It was this time of year, eight years ago, that our relationship foundered on the rocks of his jealousy (if you'll excuse the poetic conceit I'm developing here). It was this time of year, six years ago, that Scott and I separated for good: not knowing how else to end things with him, I took the coward's way out and seized an opportunity to move to a different state.
Looking back, it seems to me that our ship sank because we never had a clear idea of where we were going together. We were tossed about by the currents of our passion, ever present to the joys or miseries of the moment, but blind to the future.
There were a lot of things we never discussed. For example, I took it for granted that Scott and I wouldn't expect sexual fidelity from each other – that ours wasn't that sort of relationship. After all, when we began having sex with each other, he had another sexual partner (his fiancee, Monique), and so did I (my husband, Parker). However, Scott apparently saw it differently: he assumed that our love affair was an anomaly for both of us, and that the only reason we weren't married to each other and monogamous was that we had previous commitments to people we cared about.
Scott's vision of things shifted somewhat after he and Monique divorced. Once he was single (or rather, once his only romantic relationship was with me), he saw his desire to date other women as part of “balancing the equation,” given that I was still married. Scott wanted a family of his own, and he set about finding a new life partner with my blessing. He never dreamed that I might have any desire to date other men – or at least he fervently hoped that, if I had such desires, I would never dream of acting on them.
When Scott started dating Chani, I initially had a very difficult time (see “Jealous Rantings, Part One”), but I busted my butt working through my negative feelings, trusting that Scott would do the same for me if ever he found himself in my position, feeling jealous about a new romantic interest of mine.
When I did end up having sex with someone else, Scott absolutely lost his Christmas cookies about it. Literally. He was a total wreck, and he blamed me for how rotten he was feeling. As for me, I felt terrible – it is never a pleasure to realize you've caused your lover that kind of pain – and also totally confused. First of all, I'd thought I had gotten Scott's (grudging) permission beforehand. Second, I remembered my own reaction when Scott first slept with Chani, and had been prepared to deal with something similar. I was not prepared for Scott's actual reaction, which was so extreme it almost seemed as if no action of mine could possibly have caused it. I began to think of his jealousy as an accident: I had set out on a voyage with a willing companion, thinking we'd charted our way, and now here we were, smashed to smithereens and in serious danger of drowning.
Although I didn't know whether we could salvage our relationship, I wrote Scott a letter in which I finally spelled it out: he was not, as he believed, an anomaly in my life, the only exception to the monogamous rule.
The following is an excerpt from that letter, dated December 22, 2002:
Everything about my day with [Mr. E] seemed good and right and I don't regret any of it, not even in the midst of this pain. I can't regret being open to the wonderful things that can happen in this crazy world; this kind of openness and being-thereness is my highest value, what makes life worth living, what saves me from despair. One of the reasons I love you so much is that you are able to be there with me, to BE and to live and to understand, and to encourage me to live, really live, too. I believe it would have been a huge mistake to turn my back on what began to unfold between me and [Mr. E] the other day. And what is it? It is a continuation and a deepening of a really wonderful friendship. It is not like what I have had (and hope to God still to have) with you. It is not like what I have with [Parker]. And so you want to know, is it just [Mr. E]? Or am I going to fuck all my friends? The answer is that I must be open to amazement and joy in my life. Sex with [Mr. E] was part of that. I don't know anyone else I'd want to share that with -- but I have to be honest, even though it frightens me, and say that it is possible that I could meet someone else like that some time in the future.
Scott's response was titled “LOVE LETTER,” and I won't include any of it here, because Scott's words aren't mine to use without his permission. The gist of it, however, went like this:
I see now that you have always tried to be clear about wanting a sexually open relationship, and I'm sorry I didn't really get that this meant you having sex with multiple people besides me and Parker, but now I know I cannot accept this kind of mistreatment from you. Your actions hurt me, and that is not the way to honor true love. I cannot travel with you down the path you've outlined in your letter. I think Parker and I should be enough for you, and that you are a fool not to be satisfied with what you already have. I realize that I'm not comfortable with who you are and what you say you want, and that trying to make you happy will not make me happy.
In other words, Scott finally realized that my being poly was a deal-breaker for him. So, not knowing what else to do, I agreed to try it his way: it would be just him and my husband, no one else. Mr. E and I went back to being “just” friends. Things went on this way for two more years, with me feeling increasingly trapped and increasingly resentful, until my desire for freedom eventually eclipsed my desire to keep Scott in my life.
At first, Scott failed to see me as I was, and then, after he began to see me more clearly, he couldn't accept what he saw. That was the deal-breaker for me.
I moved away, and our relationship underwent a major transformation. We managed to pick some good bits out of all that flotsam and jetsam, to make a seaworthy friendship out of our wrecked romance, but it was never the same. And, even after all this time, I still miss what we lost together.
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