NEW RULE:

Everyone takes off their FitBit / PolarLoop / activity tracker during sex.

(No, not because comparing uploaded data might show simultaneous nookie. Because a FitBit band can scratch a cornea, and a PolarLoop suddenly lighting up red makes it look like you're getting it on with a Cylon.)

There is still that elevated elbow-to-the-head risk when three people are moving around, but at least we can modify SOME variables.

That concludes today's triad-safety PSA.

Hello, my name is _____.

Almost a year, it's been?! So, so much has happened.

Last week Chloe and I moved our business into a new space. No more sharing with three or four other people - just us! Red provided extra muscle, and all the tech support. Our friends and family are excited for us. The days when working together seemed like a terrible idea (we'll get on each other's nerves, the Trifecta will dissolve and we'll be stuck dependent on each other, finances ruin romances)... those seem like a century ago.

Our little family is content. The three of us, plus two cats and a dog - oh yeah, we *never* thought we'd have pets together - we make a good household. All three kids live elsewhere now, and they're each doing pretty well. (Ripley in particular is on her feet, Red having done a fantastic job navigating the hardest stretch of parenting I could imagine.)

We're out of the closet almost everywhere; us girls are increasingly active in LGBT events, and Red joins in sometimes.

We're past the four year mark, and really wish we could be legally married to all of each other. There will be legal papers, and a ceremony at some point. It sure would be nice for that to be as "real" as everyone else's marriage, but I guess this is kinda what it was like to be gay and partnered, up until recently.

Here is a committed threesome of Swedes:

http://nordicinnovation.nu/swedens-blogging-polyfamily-goes-viral/

And there's another nearby, three men, who are good friends of ours. We are not as weird as I once thought.

In fact, you know what? Less hiding, more smiling.

Hi, I'm Kathleen. She's Michelle, and he's Sean. We are the Trifecta, and I am proud to love them both.

 

The Shortest Day

Today I am reflecting on how The Trifecta and other recent events have changed me. I'm a planner, which I think is a way to exercise control over one's life and the others in it. That is, if you go to the effort to make a plan for yourself and your family, then, in a way, you bind them to the plan. But being beneficent, my plans usually included ways to get my partners what I thought they needed as well.

Let me digress. I little over a year ago, my 15 year old daughter (I'll call her "Ripley" after one of her movie heroes) stopped going to school. She professed suicidal ideation. She had a plan and the means and thought about it alot. Since then, there's been much upheaval. Ripley has been through some psychiatric day programs and one residential. Her symptoms and medications have evolved--these days it's social anxiety that is keeping her out of regular school. She went from living with us 33% to half-time. Thanksgiving, with a house full of family, was almost intolerable for her. We've been in it for the long haul now for months. There's been quite a toll on me. I feel like a failure as a father. I feel like I did my best, but I failed. I had thought, up to summer of 2012, that my girls were smart and pretty and on paths to successful happy lives. Now I simply hope Ripley will be alive next year, in five years. My older daughter's grades have suffered as well and she'll be off to community college in the fall. I wonder if she will want to see me after she leaves.

So yeah, plans. Make plans and the universe laughs at you. To adapt to Trifecta life, I had to loosen up on the planning and my own expectations on how my plans would turn out. I had to let go of disappointment if things didn't go as I planned, as there were now more variables that could affect plans. Then Ripley went south, and my soul became a twisted tortured lump. I became a burden.

Somehow, The Trifecta has survived the year. I have apologized to Missy and Chloe more than a few times this year. I started The Trifecta, but if I had an inkling what would come with Ripley, I would not have. I love them both too much to willingly bring them into such a rough situation.

When Ripley came to live at our house 50% time, I told her about The Trifecta, and asked her if she wanted to change her mind about living with me more. She didn't hesitate. She says The Trifecta is a cool secret, and for nine months now she has kept it secret from her mother and her sister. Once in a while I ask her if the secret is a burden, if we should go ahead and tell her mom and sis. The last time I asked, she said that her mom wouldn't understand, it would just create conflict we don't need right now, and that telling her sister would be equivalent to telling her mother. Ripley and Chloe in particular spend a lot of time together these days, and they are very sweet together. Ripley and Missy have always gotten along very well.

So today, on the shortest day, let me thank them. Let me thank Missy and Chloe for standing by me through these most difficult of times. Is a threesome a more fragile relationship than a couple? I suppose the math says so, as any one of three people could leave to break it up, rather than two. But I have to say, there seems to be something about being a team, rather than a two, that brings some extra cohesion. When we three are on the same page and working toward the same goals, it feels bigger than it did when I was in a couple, it feels like we can do more, and more quickly. Or, as has been the case a bit more often this year, I have sat out, and let Missy and Chloe do the heavy lifting on their own. And they have done so much for me. I am so grateful. Without Chloe and Missy, I could not have been able to help Ripley as well as I have. I could not have been able to keep my head on straight at work as well as I have. I would not have been able to return from the darkness as much as I have. Thank you, thank you guys so much, I love you so. I am a different man than the one who started down this polyamorous road. A better man, because of these two great women. Thank you.

Three to the Third

Today marks the third anniversary of our first date as a Trifecta.

Chloe is almost all the way moved in. Her mom recently came to visit and got fully adjusted to the idea of us. We have four trips planned in the next three months. My business is running better than at any time since I started it six years ago. Sick family members are back to stable condition.

Can I get a AMEN?

High Heals

That's it: I'm going to hire a lawyer!

Actually, we've talked about this several times, the idea of a "pre-nup" kind of thing to bring some degree of legal status to the Trifecta. (Don't worry, we're not about to start lobbying for legalization of polygamy.) What I want is a document to formalize the financial, medical, and legal ties we have (or want to have). Clearly the biggest beneficiary of this would be Chloe, who currently has NO legal status -- if you've been paying attention, you know that this is a great source of hurt. If anything awful happens (breakup, death, disability, medical catastrophe, job loss), there is a pre-existing setup that protects me and Red. You don't have to do much legwork to get that: get married, and *poof* you're insulated. Chloe, however, could wind up out in the cold under any number of scenarios. Despite having done nothing to deserve it, she is flying without a net, on her own, at risk of devastating loss. Not a beneficiary on anyone's life insurance. No 401K. No guarantee she could find other work if our business goes under. A stateless person in the politics of relationships.

This bothers me terribly.

And not just because Chloe happens to find the fact of marriage more important and appealing than I do (see several previous posts on that topic). But because in very practical terms, she bears all of the risk right now, at the same time that she has the least individual resources of any of us.

When I bring this up Chloe gets uncomfortable. She says she doesn't want to be a burden, doesn't like the idea of elbowing into our financial space. Also it's kind of morbid (someone will die ... maybe someone will break this thing up ...) Such a contract is about as romantic as a two-by-four. But ten days ago Red formally asked Chloe to move in with us, which surprised and delighted both her and me. The melding of resources and space and stuff is in process already. The psychological sense of her "presence" in the house is greater.

That means it's almost time to get this thing on paper.

So I was once again trying to sell the idea to Chloe the other day, as she and I sat at OUR dining room table (tee hee! that's so much fun to say). She objected in the usual way. For whatever reason, this explanation popped into my head for the first time: it's simply an artifact of everyone's history, I said, that you have fewer resources and less safety net than Red and I do. Expecting you to hitch your wagon to ours, but then be the most at risk if bad things happen? That's not fair. How things got this way is nobody's fault. Just like me being three inches shorter than you is not my fault. It's just a fact, neither good nor bad. To level the playing field, however, I can wear high heels. What's wrong with wearing high heels?

That made her smile. It's always been a little weird for Chloe that she is taller than me, and our standing hugs and kisses are therefore asymmetric. If I come home from work in heels and she's already barefoot, we giggle and enjoy the fact that I can be the top hugger, and look her right in the eye.

Love is giggly sometimes, and at other times it's solemn as hell. I want to do both parts right.

My advice (for what it's worth).

Red and I were recently reflecting back on what was in our heads when we started down this path to what became The Trifecta.  My answer when we first started the blog now sounds silly and shallow.  Red probably thinks I tried this because I was mesmerized by his good looks, sharp wit, and vast intelligence, which is completely true, of course :)   In retrospect, I think this all came about at a time when I was disgusted with my long history of making boring, predictable, safe decisions, that all eventually ended in failure.  I always thought that by this time in my life, I would have a couple of kids doing great in college, a beautiful house, many friends, and a happy marriage with a spouse who was as satisfied and comfortable in his HUGELY successful career as *I* was.  Except I was underemployed, the kid/step-kids did not want college OR a job, and I found myself going through a nasty divorce, despite YEARS of working hard to prevent it.

It seemed like the ideal time for change.  It really seemed like the best time ever.  Like the ONLY time.   I felt reckless and free!  These two proposing this were normal, sane human beings…self-supporting, brilliant human beings, happy, and satisfied in their marriage.  They could live without this, and were just checking things out…and they wanted ME!   I don’t remember feeling very much pressure, and I thought I should try something new and non-traditional and a little bit risky for a change.  What did I have to lose?

Things went blissfully well from the very beginning, thankfully.  My guess is that things don’t go that well for most people who try this out.  We did not create a list of rules and regulations – we just went with the flow - we are not swingers.  My “I’ll just have a little fun and check this out and have no expectations” turned quickly into “Holy cow…I think I want this for a very long time!”

I can only speak for myself, so I will say it seemed like feelings were hurt all over the place in the beginning.  Any one of us (ok, mostly me) could go from smiling, laughing, and dreaming of the future, to gloomy and pessimistic in no time flat.  We all stuck it out though.  We relentlessly discussed whatever issue was trending  – over and over and over again, until we were all reassured that although things may not be ‘fixed’, we would endure the fallout together.

I wish I had the magic recipe, really, I do.  I wish I could give advice to anyone who was interested in this kind of undertaking.  However, I feel that that our circumstance, like YOURS, is unique.  It will be an new experience for you -  distinctive and challenging in its own way.  You and your partners will laugh and hurt and grow from it, and may or may not survive.  Regardless, you will be a stronger person and partner for that.  FOREVER.  So go take a chance!

Incognito

Recently Chloe and I have attended a couple of really enjoyable local lesbian Meetup events -- Red doesn't seem to mind us running off together, especially if it coincides with broadcasts of multiple baseball games, which he then gets to watch guilt-free. Win-win-win!

Chloe and I do wonder whether this will one day be something Red gets worried about. But we keep taking his temperature, and so far no cause for alarm. It would be fun to bring him along to some of these, we keep thinking, but it doesn't seem socially appropriate. The one time Chloe tried to explain our situation to one of the women we met, it just didn't seem to compute in that person's head. Maybe it would make the women we're meeting uncomfortable, and that's not polite, especially in new company.

But the thing Red jokes about actually is a real, little bitty, niggling fear. "Don't tell them you're bisexual," he warns theatrically, "or they'll kick you out of the club!"

This is not, of course, a new issue. (See several previous posts here, and a truckload of articles and arguments in the LGBTQ world, for evidence.) But it's becoming a more concrete one for me and Chloe. The other day, since we were one of only two couples in a crowd of about 15 ladies, it was natural for someone to ask us "So, how long have you been together? How did you meet?" ... We exchanged glances and managed to tell pieces of the tale, along with a couple of "it's a reaaallly long story" interjections, without contradicting each other. Later we wondered if we should have a canned script ready for such moments.

And what's the worst that could happen? We get socially rejected? Probably only by some individuals, not all the people we've met (who seem pretty cool on the whole). We put someone a little out of their comfort zone? That's already happened plenty with our straight friends and family. I guess the gay guys have been so low-key, and there were already so many more of those in our lives than gay women, that we're not sure whether the girls are gonna be like "right on!" or back away like "hey, this space here is for actual lesbians". Chloe observed that the category in question is "girls who like girls", and in that respect we fit right in. Even if the number of girls each of us has ever liked is less than or equal to 2.

So do I get to embrace the subculture of not-straight women? Or do I have an asterisk? Should I be nervous about being found out as a poseur* or a fraud? For now I think I'll grab Chloe's hand, run to the beach for that barbecue, and come back to Red's fuzzy face to celebrate our growing circle of friends.


*The nerd in me is forced to observe that as a female person I am actually "incognita", and a "poseuse". Carry on.