If there is one thing I have learned from my punting time, it is that open, sexual relationships, whether 'commercial', buddies, casual, poly-amorous or anything else, must be unselfish. To be open enough to enter into a close intimate ‘relationship/friendship’ of this sort, we must be equally open enough to let each other move on when the time comes.
I have written about my relationship with T before in "Booty Buddies?".
During some of our pillow talks, she mentioned that she had started dating someone and I said that she just had to ‘say the word’ and I would step aside.
Well a couple of months passed where for various reasons we did not see each other. Then I dropped in to her home just before Christmas with a hamper of goodies. She welcomed me with a chaste kiss, and I knew instantly that my time had come. We spent the rest of the afternoon sipping chai lates, sitting in recliners on her front porch overlooking her cottage garden and the sun slowly sinking over the bay. We talked very opening about our relationship (she always said that we were a pair of survivors), the good times we had had. We talked about her recent loss of her mother, her health issues, looking for a new career, the side effects of contraceptive implants, my own home life issues, and their future plans together.
As the sun touched the horizon, I collected my few belongings stashed in her bedroom. She expressed the hope that the ‘girls’ back at the parlour would ‘look after me’. We hugged farewell at my car and with a final peck on the cheek I drove home in the sunset.
Bon Voyage through the rest of your life T with your new man.
"If there is one thing I have learned from my punting time, it is that open, sexual relationships, whether 'commercial', buddies, casual, poly-amorous or anything else, must be unselfish. To be open enough to enter into a close intimate ‘relationship/friendship’ of this sort, we must be equally open enough to let each other move on when the time comes."
ReplyDeleteDear Sir Thomas
The paragraph above was an epiphany for me to read. I actually wept a bit, and the knot in my heart loosened.
I recently finished an open relationship; short but intense. And I've been struggling with the confusion of being unable to publicly grieve for something which mainstream might say "was not a real relationship in the first place".
We may not have called each other boyfriend/girlfriend. We may not have kept to traditional expectations around dating. We were definitely not monogamous. But it was, most certainly, a very real and very deep connection. The flirting and romance was off the charts. We helped each other through some personal traumas. Went on a road trip under a full moon. We just clicked.
We absolutely adored each other, trusted each other, communicated honestly and openly ... which made the sex .... absolutely incredible ... like nothing either of us had ever experienced before. We got tested for STIs, set ground-rules, experimented with light/moderate BDSM ... it was out-of-this-world.
We agreed at the start that we'd set a date at the end of summer, and reassess our feelings and direction. And that until then it would be a shitload of fun. And it was!!! It was spectacular. The mother of all summer flings. Unforgettable.
Then when the time came to reassess, we realised we weren't quite on the same path. I wanted to develop our trust further, take experimentation to new levels ... but he said he needed to move on ... he needed space to continue his journey into the bisexual and homosexual landscape; a journey he'd started many years before unexpectedly meeting me. I guess in a way I was lucky to have been his beautiful distraction. Hundreds of girls didn't make the cut. I was, literally, exceptional.
Our final night together was far more emotionally difficult than I think either of us were prepared for. There were a lot of choked-up tears, expressions of gratitude, and we held each other in long embraces which felt like they never wanted to end.
In just three months we had bonded in ways that surprised us both. Oxytocin is a helluva drug.
But, in the same vein as the overseas travel/backpacking relationships which he and I were all too familiar with, we knew that it had to end. We had separate planes to catch.
So we parted ways on 1 March, the first day of Autumn. Instead of a first date, we took each other on a "last date". To try to end it on a really positive note. He and I had both promised we would respect each other when the time came to leave. Sounded easy in theory but the reality was quite painful.
A gay friend said to me later that in these journeys "there is always some collateral damage". I'd never been called collateral damage before. First time for everything.
It fkn hurts to step out the way, but I want him to be happy. And the opening paragraph of your blog entry made me realise that we were both right to do the unselfish thing, and let go.
Despite the pain, I still welcome the whole experience, and won't be shy to try another open relationship again. I have no regrets and I learned a lot. I think I'm a better person for it.
Thanks for the opportunity to write.
With loving kindness,
Halcyon
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