When I began this whole series on my own experiences as a primary, secondary, and tertiary partner, I debated about whether to put my relationship with Guy in the “secondary” category at all. I ended up deciding that I probably qualified as some kind of secondary partner during the five months or so that we dated each other.
Guy and his wife were swingers. For most of their marriage, they'd limited themselves to casual interactions with other like-minded couples, but they'd recently begun to branch out a bit. His wife had been dating someone for a few months, so maybe Guy felt like he ought to balance the equation on his side. Whatever his motivation – and other than a certain requisite degree of physical attraction, I don't have a clue what it might have been – he seemed to regard me as his girlfriend.
For my part, I was trying out “casual.” At the time, things with Lilianna and Rick were a mess. I'd swallowed a pretty stiff dose of drama, and I was hoping a no-strings-attached relationship might help me to detox.
What did it feel like, being Guy's tertiary-secondary?
Pretty pointless. When we weren't driving toward orgasm, we weren't going anywhere together. From the very beginning, our relationship was at a dead end.
To be fair, Guy had been pretty clear that he wasn't “interested in a love relationship” with anyone other than his wife. Maybe I should have divined that this meant he wasn't interested in developing any kind of intimacy. I figured it out soon enough.
There was something else, too: my STD paranoia. Here I was, dating a man I hardly knew, who was married to a woman I didn't know at all, who was dating some guy who, from what I was able to gather, was screwing just about everyone. Yeah, Guy and I used condoms. Every time. Yes, he assured me that the agreement between him and his wife was that they were always to use condoms, unless they were having sex with each other. It still freaked me out to think that there was a chance – however vanishingly slim – that I might contract a communicable disease from someone with whom I wasn't communicating.
I decided that the relationship wasn't worth the risk, and I broke things off.
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