Monogamous men are the blue diamonds of the kink community: it’s virtually impossible to find one, and when you do, it ends up being the one that sank in the movie, Titanic: in other words, just a damned pencil sketch because the real deal got snapped up and taken home by a wrinkly version of Kate Winslet. I guess I can understand why there are so few one-woman-men around: The idea of that level of sexual freedom even compels me.
I’ve had a couple of open relationships, which I loved. There are definitely cracks in my monogamy, just not enough to motivate me to find out what compersion is and why you’re always talking about it. I’ll throw a threesome or two into a relationship for kicks. I’m definitely not poly, though, because I get… oh… just a tiny bit scared of loss. I was That Kid Whose Mom Always Showed Up Late After School—the one whose dad left at four. I have abandonment issues, and just in case you were wondering, I’m also one of those women who feels inferior if she’s not chosen as a primary partner.
These are not my favourite traits, but they’re not entirely to blame for my monogamous leanings. Those come from my inner Rose: the one who wants to find the kind of love that warrants a Celine Dion ballad. If you tell a soul I said anything positive about Celine Dion ballads, I will cut you, by the way.
Where do you poly people find the time, anyway? A relationship chews up more of my time than I have left at the end of the day. Intimacy takes a lot of emotional energy, too. I would rather spend the time learning how to walk in stilettos. Seriously.
I went through a phase in my twenties when I dated four men at once, and it was exhausting. Add kink to that, and you’re left with a SpanishRed who just can’t even.
The idea of having one special person makes me want to recite odes. I adore stories about the prince who finally finds his One True Love, kisses her awake, and then invites her to fuck him and his friend tomorrow night in the back of their 1912 Coupe de Ville.
Don’t look at me like that. That’s how the story goes.
I have to go, now. Jack is calling me to play aeroplanes at the bough of the ship.