It's never REALLY about the tree, is it...

Never mind the glut of holiday commercials advertising new luxury cars with giant bows on top, extravagant cruises to far-off destinations, and for cryin’ out loud, of ALL things…engagement rings?  (Any of which I would love to have but of course CAN’T).   This Christmas, I am mourning the demise of the tree shopping experience.

Christmas tree shopping was never really a HUGE deal when I was growing up.  I promise we didn’t embark on a long, festive drive to the country to walk around forever in a snowy field selecting and sawing down ‘just the right tree’.  Yet it was still an event.  A “hey, we’re going to get the tree on ___day” event.  We brought it home and put Christmas music or Christmas movies on, made eggnog and hot chocolate to decorate the tree to, and signed our names to the Christmas cards.  It was a happy day that marked the tangible, true beginning of Christmas in our home.

Maybe I was adrift in confusion, stress, horror, fright, or some other “new Trifecta holiday feeling” and I barely noticed in years prior?   I do recall some discomfort about that part of the affair, but it was overshadowed by other, more pressing issues, and was quickly forgotten.

Red inexplicably avoids Christmas Tree shopping, and instead lets the giggly, happy girls handle the task (we have fun, but would always rather have him with us, and are concerned about his melancholy).  When I first noticed there was a problem, I asked him about it.  Missy has probably understood the issue for years, and has accepted that he simply does not enjoy tree shopping.  I find a LOT of his behavior confusing, but once he explains why he’s acting a particular way, my grumbling usually stops and I find compassion.   He has said that Christmas tree shopping was a big deal when he was married to his first wife.  Granted.  Once it was explained to me in those terms, I thought I understood.  A special thing can be tainted by an angry ex, or by special memories once shared and now gone.   But this is the Trifecta’s third Christmas together.  I thought we could’ve invented our own version of the experience – our own rendition of events that were special, meaningful and memorable to the three of us.  The holidays are loaded so heavily with family, emotion, and tradition (which we have successfully handled, so far), that I was SURE this would be the year to reinvent the tree hunting experience.

Not so much.

Missy had to work in the afternoon, so we spent a blissful, lazy morning making breakfast, enjoying music, television, and the company of our favorite people.  After Missy went to work, I (eventually) insisted on heading out and purchasing the tree, even though I knew it was not Red’s favorite thing.  I told him I wanted to do it to make Missy’s life easier (she had expressed how nice it would be for us to get it done since she had no time).  I knew Red didn’t enjoy it, and in complete sincerity (I SWEAR), I offered to go alone to get the tree.  He wanted to be sweet to me though, and said he would come along.

When I asked why he seemed so sad, when I just wanted to keep Missy from having to waste HER time completing this task, he became tearful and talked about how sad this time of year is because he misses his kids so much.  I tried to understand.  I offered again to go alone, and said it wouldn’t hurt my feelings (I was telling the truth), but he insisted we were “gonna do this thing.”   I promised we would be in an out…no messing around.

We were shopping for a tree in the family-owned lot that Missy loves, when I glanced to the parking lot, only to see Red’s oldest daughter and her mother (along with some other relatives) emerging from a vehicle – completely unexpectedly, of course.  I quickly got Red’s attention and alerted him – after all…how awkward would it be for not only his daughter, but his ex and her family to see us there without Missy, or any OTHER family member?  His ex had noted in the past to one of the girls how strange it was that I was always “hanging around.”  He turned green and ran.  I went pale, considered that if they saw me, I’d claim I was there with my daughter and “have you seen her?”  I hid from view, then I ran also.  We kept running (well, ok, driving) directly to Home Depot and bought a tree never unwrapped or cut or tied onto a vehicle – just shoved unceremoniously into the back…and then ran back home.  Nauseated.  The evening was ruined.  No wonder the poor guy has Christmas Tree PTSD.

In near silence, we deposited the tree in the stand (in a rudimentary fashion), vacuumed from the carpet the 40 pounds of needles that had been trapped in the bundled tree, and tried unsuccessfully to move on.

Days later…it is Wednesday - the Red/Missy/Kids day.  They are at their house decorating the tree and I am at my place being endlessly barraged with tender Christmas specials and movies that cable television provides (i.e. imposes on) us each year, and not even WANTING to be there for whatever moody awkwardness my presence might create.  

This emphasizes a recurring “3^rd person in the Trifecta” problem (pack your bags, we’re going on a tangent…)

Do they have room for MY rituals and preferences and, well, needs?  They have been a family for some amount of time and have their routines established.  They like bright rooms, I like dark-cavy ones, they like to eat late, I like to eat early, they are morning people, I’m not…    I have always believed that an individual should be allowed to genuinely be who they are without feeling pressure to change for somebody else.  Now I am with two people.  People who deserve to be themselves (no pressure to change) as individuals and as a couple.  Pre-Trifecta, those times I was with one person, it made sense that over time, due to compromise, our traditions merged into one, made up of bits and pieces from each of our histories.  What we are doing is more complicated.  I worry my needs might fall by the wayside (my voice is only 1/3 of the choir).  I worry that there isn’t room for all of our needs to be met, I worry I’m being too demanding.

 

Wait...who is in charge here?!   

 

 

 

 

Maybe it’s my insecurity as the newcomer that makes me ask all of these questions that never seem to have answers.  They try so hard to make sure I feel like an equal, and feel fully loved, heard, and understood.  Why am I so confused all the time?

It’s never REALLY about the tree, is it.

Hey diddle diddle, who's in the middle??

Every couple has probably encountered the issue of who more easily gets overheated at night, who has icy feet, hogs the covers, snores, thrashes, talks in their sleep, etc.

Now add another human to the mattress.

In addition to the usual, you have to figure out who's going to be in the middle. Now, in general, I love the middle, and early on I always wanted to be there. But so did Red, and this led to more than one harrumphy moment. Chloe tends to get uncomfortably hot, so wants to be able to throw a leg out from under the covers. I tend to feel chilly, so I want to cocoon up. Red likes three pillows, one to put on top of his head (HOW does he not feel SUFFOCATED?!), while I like one firm or two smushy. That means if there's a rotation of person-positions overnight, there might also need to be a pillow-shuffle. Come morning, only one of us actually knows how to turn off the alarm clock over on the left-hand side (don't get me started). And finally, I am by far the lightest sleeper. So if either of the other two snores, or thrashes, or has imaginary conversations (Chloe is so CUTE when she does that), or forgets to turn their phone all the way silent, I get waked up and might not fall back asleep easily. You can see how this would be a giant pain.

So.

After a year of overcrowding, we upgraded from a queen size bed to a California King. This did help, but still the Middle Kingdom is contested. By default it belongs to Red; he likes it there, and he's the soundest sleeper, and doesn't tend to get overheated. But if he goes spoony, it has to be toward either one girl or the other, and the remaining girl might feel left out. Plus I like the super-snuggled sensation, so if it's a night when I don't have to get up early the next morning, I'll lobby for that. (Or scooch over and steal it when he gets up for a moment.) Every so often Chloe winds up there, and sometimes I get surprised when it's her soft skin I reach over and find next to me.

I suspect this will be an ongoing issue for the Trifecta. Gotta say: it's a good problem to have. Means we're all in one place, which is the happiest place on earth.

BRING IT ON

I second Chloe's emotion: the holidays are MUCH less dread-inducing this third year ... you'd think, after the second go-round was even worse than the first, that we'd be squinching our eyes shut and bracing for the worst. But things have changed.

We're out of the closet to about fifty times more people than we used to be.

All of us have gotten more comfortable with two people splitting off for a little while, and doing different things. He watches football while we go to a lesbian bar. They go to the gym while I visit my mom. That sort of thing.

We've acquired some new hobbies we all like to do together: hiking, for one. We did a little of that before, but now it's A Thing.

There is more open conflict than there used to be -- no more hanging back, for fear that it might be fatal; now we plow right into a fight. Sometimes it's two-on-one. Often it's just between two and the third person has to choose whether to speak up for one or the other, or try hard to stay neutral, or just evacuate the premises. On the one hand, it's scarier than with just two people, because there's the risk of feeling ganged-up-on. On the other hand, if you're feeling wounded by one, you can turn to the other for comfort, even if they don't back your position. Just a long hug and a good cry can do wonders. (Not to mention the age-old practice of Sexual Conflict Resolution.)

I've had a pretty crappy week. Have not been the best of company. But we're about to run off for a major adventure, dragging four teenagers with us and expecting to have an epic time, and I'm as jazzed as I just about ever get. I love these two people so much. So very much. When I give thanks, this is what I'm talking about.

Pass the gravy!

Giving thanks.

The weather is getting chilly and by the time I leave work each day, it has become dark and foggy...  This time of year always makes me want to curl up on the couch under a fuzzy blanket with a good book.  I have been spending more time inside, cooking and reading and watching old movies.  As Thanksgiving approaches (at lightning speed), we are fortunate to have many people to see and things to do - not the traditional big group holiday gatherings that I grew up knowing, but invitations for smaller, more intimate get-togethers with our closest friends and family.

This year I have a new-found (and unexpected) sense of serenity.  I am thankful for the new friends and family I have made through Missy and Red, who have been so incredibly kind and accepting of me and our new life together.  These friends and family actively choose to stay in contact with us and remind us that they are only a phone call or car-ride away.  I am thankful for the awkward and stressful times the three of us have weathered over the past few years.  The difficult times have brought us closer together and made me more complete as an individual.  I am thankful for the opportunities that seem to present themselves; mostly to me, but to the group as well.  Just when things begin to feel hopeless, when I find myself seeing only closed doors and dead ends...unanticipated possibilities materialize in an extraordinary way that makes me feel the universe is rooting for us.  Lastly, I am most profoundly and humbly thankful for the two most incredible people I have ever had the good fortune to know and love.  Embarking on this journey with Missy and Red has been the single most intelligent decision I couldn't imagine myself making.

(Allow me to go on a brief tangent...)

We reminisce sometimes about what we now refer to as "The Propositioning" - the event that brought us together, and we giggle at the impossibility of it.  Red and I were out to lunch at a bright, loud restaurant full of rowdy kids, business people getting away for a quick bite, and senior citizens out for their daily dose of excitement.  Red (in a way that only he could do) boldly proposed this idea..."Hey, it has been nice getting back in touch with you - you're great!   You know who else is great?  My wife!  Hey, maybe we could all be great together!"  Recent events in my romantic life had seriously shaken everything I believed was true and right about marriage and relationships.  Besides, I felt that kind of bravery should be rewarded!  I said "Well, math was hard in high school and I didn't like it, so I put it off til the very end of college.  Then I discovered that (surprisingly) math wasn't hard anymore!"  So math was hard, then it wasn't.  I figured I could revisit the idea of kissing a girl, even though I didn't like it years ago...  And the rest is history.

I am thankful for karma making an impossible thing possible in my life.  I hope to celebrate this for the rest of my life.

Epiphany #394

Missy and I had a great evening out at a new lesbian restaurant/bar (new, fun thing), and then met a friend of the Trifecta at a gay bar - we felt comfortable at both places, chatted with many people, and everyone was friendly and fun.  No one wondered what our story was.  It felt great to relax and not be on edge wondering what people thought of us.

(Insert epiphany for the slow girl HERE)

Maybe it's so hard for us to find other people practicing poly-fidelity and MAYBE it's so confusing to people, and MAAAAYBE people react to us poorly (on the few occasions that we have actually noticed) because they don't know what the heck is going on, and it takes them off guard?!

When you see two women holding hands, you can probably assume they are lesbians.  Normal.  When you see two men holding hands, you can probably assume they are gay.  Normal.  When you see the Man and the Woman and the Woman holding hands, what can you assume?  Maybe the guy found two hookers?  Maybe they are swingers?  Maybe it's college students performing a sociology experiment and you are on hidden camera?!  You shouldn't ASK them what they're doing or who they are...you think that might be rude, and your wife would probably slap you because she thinks you are a perv for considering the possibility that SHE might agree to participate in a similar venture.

Maybe people are just freaked out because they never see people like us, and they don't know how to react?  It makes them uneasy, and they turn away?  Remember the first time you saw a lady in a wheelchair, or missing a limb, or with skin a different color than yours?  You probably got a funny look on your face and stared at them, or said something insensitive or mean without realizing it.  Maybe that's what people do when they see us.   Maybe folks have done that to OTHER people like us and it made them hide their relationship (and now we can't find them...even through meetup.com)!

Ohhhhhhh.  That does make sense. 

Note to self:  people who don't know you and don't like you are probably just ignorant - stop taking it personally.

Born This Way.

As we've come out of the closet to more and more people over these years, I notice a couple of patterns of reaction. One: Red must be some kind of PIMP DADDY to get two girls on him! Another: Missy must be like the most generous wife EVAR, to share the dude she already had legal claim to. Yet another: Chloe must have magical powers of seduction, and may actually be dangerous. And of course: well, y'all have fun and enjoy it while you can, cuz I tried that [or watched someone try it, etc.] and it never lasts.

Where to begin.

That last one is not really worth wasting breath over. Our Trifecta is a constant exercise in making it up as we go along, with the express goal of having it last forever. We've nailed down another year and a day, and I'm betting on a lot longer than that!

No, what I'm ruminating on today is the tricky business of explaining who we are and how we got to this place, and for that matter, how I understand it myself.

We recently attended our first "poly meetup", which was a pleasant non-hookup-y event in a low-stress venue with some very nice people. We'd been wary of going to any of the groups we learned about early on, because it seemed we might be at risk of sleaze. None of us want people thinking we're looking to expand the triad. So we waited until we came across a group that sounded like it was more family-oriented, not focused on "snuggle parties", and not happening on a Saturday night in a bar. It did feel nice to be among people who are not judgmental, and to hear about some of their experiences. But afterwards we realized: it wasn't clear that any of them were actually in the same boat as us. When we present ourselves as a long-standing three-person relationship, theoretically it could be a V with Red in the middle, or Chloe in the middle, or me in the middle (the default assumption is that the guy is the vertex), or it could be the actual three-way that it is. When we met other three-person groups last week, in some cases it was unclear what their deal was too, but in others it was explicitly "husband and wife plus husband's girlfriend" or vice versa.

I do not know how to describe us, either to new people or existing friends and family, without drawing a diagram:

 Red and Chloe are lovers.

Missy and Red are lovers.

Chloe and Missy are lovers.

By "lovers", yes we mean both physically and emotionally. If you've read much of this blog, you may recall that early on, there was a lot more sexual involvement in the first two cases than in the third -- that has evolved, much to my delight. And when Chloe and I go out just the two of us, people seem to receive us fairly readily as a same-sex couple. But when all three of us are together, the assumption is different.

Dear Reader: How do you imagine that the Trifecta got started? There have been allusions to it over time, but mostly to the effect of "it was Red's idea". When you hear that, what do you imagine? Apparently, the default is "he wanted to sleep with another woman and his wife was cool with that as long as it was a threesome". There is a grain of truth there, but only a grain.

The fact is, I was born bisexual. I realized almost 20 years ago that I'd been wired that way all along: besides having girls show up in my sex dreams and my fantasies, those intense fixations I got on various girls throughout my youth were actually romantic crushes, the same kind as I got on boys (though I couldn't identify them as such because it was too outlandish, too crazy, to be possible). By the time I was able to do so, I was already married (for the first time), and the option of stepping out and experimenting with girls -- never mind a threesome -- was just not on the table. Or so it seemed.

Once I'd been with Red for while, I shared all this with him, and he was not in the least freaked out. For his part, there was also some unfulfilled longing: he simply hadn't been with very many women, and wondered what someone else might be like. (My 20's had been quite lively, so although I was no longer interested in sleeping around, I felt a little sad on his behalf.) That's where it stayed for the longest time. Neither of us wanted to deceive the other, and giving permission to go extracurricular felt uncomfortable, so the feeling was "that ship has sailed, and we're happy sleeping just with each other".

Then a few years ago, an unlikely opportunity arose. There was a woman who was interested in Red, and when he was reluctant to get with her without me present, she agreed to include me ... because Red conveyed, completely truthfully, that I had always wanted to go to bed with a girl and hadn't pursued any opportunity. So this way, everyone gets at least a taste of what they want. Great! It actually was only great briefly, and that's all I have to say about that.

But the next thing that happened was even more remarkable. Red was already friends with Chloe, and I had been in social settings with her a couple of times. They'd had conversations that led Red to think she might be open to a threesome, so he ran it by me and then proposed it to her. (A very entertaining story, if he wants to tell it!) The understanding from the start was that this was to be low-stakes, fun, and if anyone didn't like it well then it's no huge loss.

The rest is history.

The POINT, however, is that we didn't get here because Chloe came along and seduced Red, with me tagging along -- nor because Red wanted to play the field, and convinced me to tag along. My desire to explore being with a girl was at least as big a factor. Far from feeling like the generous cool wife who's willing to share her man, I feel like the luckiest bi girl in the world. Selfish, even, sometimes. I get to have a girlfriend, and keep my husband too?!? That's an embarrassment of riches.

I don't presume to speak for either of my loves when I tell my version of our Creation Story. It's meaningful to me that (a) Red loved me so much that he wanted to help me explore my identity even if it might be scary for both of us, (b) Chloe was so open-minded that even though she'd never had a girlfriend, she was willing to find out what it would be like, and (c) I've grown enough by now that I'm not weirded out by my nature. I can't imagine having only him or only her. I guess that means "poly" is part of how I'm wired too. Long ago I wrote that I don't care about labels: that's true up to a point, but the prouder I get of who we are, the louder I want to rejoice.

"We're here, we're something out of the ordinary if not altogether queer, get used to it!"

But seriously, folks...

It's fun to look at my rings and remember I'm connected by gold and gems to two amazing, loving people who are as beautiful and multi-faceted as my garnet and diamonds.

Some symbols are less smile-inducing than that. Yet maybe at least as important.

I had major surgery two weeks ago. (Not for a life-threatening condition, and yes I'm doing fine thank you. Though I should have listened to the doctor about how long the recovery takes. Doctors make terrible patients, it's true.)

When you go in for surgery, even if you're young(-ish) and otherwise healthy, you should ALWAYS have an advance healthcare directive in your hand. This is not as much about specifying what your wishes are, should your medical condition become grave, as it is about designating who you want to make decisions for you if you can't. About twice a month I get involved in a hospital case where this really, really matters and we all wish the patient had signed a simple document.

So, in the run-up to my surgery, I prepared my advance directive. Remember Chloe a while back talking about how sad it feels not to have any official standing in the Trifecta, compared to the Actual Husband? Well I wanted to make sure that (a) she would be permitted to visit me at any and all stages of the medical journey, and (b) she would be consulted, along with Red, about any unexpected decision-making that might have to happen without my say-so. The very first line of my advance directive identifies both Red and Chloe, with equal and shared decision-making authority, as my designated healthcare agents. The document is typed, legally binding, signed by witnesses (who didn't see that line, but saw me sign my name), and is in effect until and unless I revoke it specifically.

For me, somehow, seeing that piece of paper was really pleasing. The content is serious; the concreteness is satisfying.

The actual hospital experience was kind of amusing. I made clear from the get-go that I wanted both of them with me at all times; in some rooms it wasn't possible, because there was only space for one other person. But the staff were very respectful about this, and encouraged me to inform everyone about my preference. ("So, it's your husband and your ... gal-friend I'm going to look for now?") We all hung out in the pre-op waiting room, joking about the bad TV and awesome wi-fi. Chloe came with me to the pre-anesthesia area, held my hand, met the surgeon and anesthesiologist, and kissed me goodbye. The surgeon later went out to the waiting room and gave them both the details about what happened, showed them pictures, answered questions. Red met me in the recovery room, kissed me hello, and poked me to remind me to breathe deep when the monitor alarms went off. They both came to the discharge area where the nurse got me dressed and made sure I wasn't too wobbly, before helping me into the car and tucking me into bed.

Not that I can read their minds or anything, but I think Chloe and Red felt almost like equal partners of mine that day.

I know I felt it.

Still here...

I have been reminded recently that we haven't kept the blog up very well this year...  We have been distracted with work and family, and frankly have settled in to day to day living in a way that just doesn't have enough drama to be posting about as often!

So what has been going on with us?  We've been trying to figure out (for a LONG time) how we can live together without coming out to the two younger kids (their mom is the ex-wife and a big meanie).  I'm not happy in my apartment, but still need to house my daughter, who is a full-time college student.  She was against living with us at the beginning, saying "it would just be too weird, mom," but has since spent enough time in family situations with us (and hates the apartment enough now) that she has become more comfortable with the idea.  The Trifecta has one bed, so in order not to be out with the two younger kids (who are there every other weekend and every Wednesday), I would need my own bedroom.  They each have their own room and my daughter would need her own room...sheesh...that's a five-bedroom house.  The coordination required to find a big house to rent, finding a renter for Missy & Red's three-bedroom house, at the same time the lease runs out on my apartment?  Nearly impossible, and prohibitively expensive.  It is a work in progress.

We enjoyed the first season of "Married and Dating" - the Showtime television series.  Our relationship is not like any on the show, but I appreciate that it's exposing people to the poly lifestyle.  We have been more active in trying to meet other families like ours (to share ideas and commiserate), and are meeting with a group in a couple of weeks - I'll have to update you on how that goes.

What else?  Missy and I attended the Pride Parade & Festival a few months ago - that's always fun.  My daughter was the designated driver for the event, and Missy gave her $20's along the way as hush money, which was brilliant!  "Here's a twenty for not telling anyone how silly we're being...here's a twenty for not laughing at us until you're out of earshot...here's a twenty for pretending we aren't drinking/dancing/giggling too much...here's a twenty to forget our silliness IMMEDIATELY...and here's a final twenty for not reminding us tomorrow of how silly we've been acting today (because we probably won't remember)!"  We also went to a local, smaller Pride Festival a few days ago and enjoyed it very much.  We were introduced to several organizations that will help us volunteer our time for and spend our money at businesses that value equality.   Every little bit helps - maybe someday I will be able to get health benefits and have a wedding and not need hide who I am to people.

Missy's "Year and a Day" sweetness was wonderful.  I have no idea what Red thinks of it, because he only has two feelings (he said it, not me), but it has made things feel more tangible and lasting in my mind.  I can't explain how, but it's nice to have something other than an open ended "we're together" type of relationship.  My feelings about commitment have become rather battered over bad relationships & divorces, and I have become jaded against something that has ALWAYS led to disappointment in my life.  But this feels different.  I'm hoping that in that "different-ness" I will find something that actually works for me and feels great along the way.

In closing, my sincere hope is that people reading our blog are able to see through the drama and (sometimes) bad writing, and will have a sense of our true feelings - feelings that this relationship is a good and lasting one, worth the trouble it causes, and worth the extra work it takes to nourish it.

A Year And A Day

Oh I'm sorry, did everyone think we packed up our marbles and went home?

Nope. Time has elapsed at a puzzling rate, and anyway we've mostly been too busy to write. There have been exciting developments: I stopped being scared! (That the Trifecta would end with either a bang or a whimper, that is. I'm still scared of big hairy spiders.) But seriously, dispensing with fear has been a big relief for me.

In fact it allowed me to take us all one little step further into the future we dream of.

Early last month, Chloe and Red and I were enjoying our longest-ever stretch in our Desert Getaway spot. FOUR nights and days in which to sweat away the botherments of the city! Three visits to our favorite bar! And in the end, two rings.

The epic-ness of our trip became clear at the very beginning: we arrived in town just after the departure of a huge, freakish summer storm. It had dumped inches of water in the course of an hour, and littered the streets with gigantic palm branches. Our hotel's elevators and fitness center were flooded. ("Damn," said Chloe to the desk clerk who wore the cleverest bolo tie I've ever seen. "For the first time, we actually brought our workout clothes!" He could see we were both relieved.)

I had spent most of a week nervously shopping for jewelry for each of us, which I've done before. I got us all sorta-matching trinity knot items our first Christmas (a necklace for her, earrings for me, a keychain for him). For our first anniversary, triple-birthstone rings for all of us. Red's ring fell apart though, so then I got trinity bands for him and Chloe (that way them two had a pair of matching rings, and Chloe and I had a pair of matching rings, and Red and I already had our wedding rings from five years earlier). I kind of liked that asymmetry: the three different sets of two rings really reflected, I thought, the fact that there isn't just one relationship that each of us experiences identically. Now we had just passed our SECOND anniversary (who knew! actually possible!), and I was ready to take things to another level. Especially since the silver trinkets were starting to look worn out.

But there were two problems. One, the sweet little handfasting ceremony I had in mind, for us to promise things to each other? Got scooped by the people on Showtime's "Polyamory: Married and Dating". CURSE THEM. I will let others speak about just how much those people are Not Like Us (keywords: open vs. closed), but let it be said that I did not want to evoke THAT in my escalation.

The second problem still baffles me. How can Chloe and I be so bonded, so close, so intimately interwined with each other body and soul ... and yet I still have *no* idea what jewelry she would like?! For days I moped around jewelry shops and online sites, wretchedly failing to identify anything that I thought would please us both. Then I gave up and just tried to find rings I thought Chloe would like, and eventually I just concluded I should let go of the idea of surprise: let her pick a ring her own self. Red, I wasn't sure if he'd even want a ring, considering how I was going to play this.

So I plotted for an opportune moment. Should I take us all to a place we've never been, one of the rugged and lovely outdoor locales the area is famous for? The 103-degree heat was a deterrent. Perhaps an old favorite haunt? More romantic in the dark? But the public places seemed too ... public. In the end, I settled on "by the pool, first thing of the last morning". It was quiet, pretty, and we had reached relaxation-equilibrium. I stated my case, and each of them seemed sweetly charmed.

It goes like this: long ago in pre-Christian Ireland and Scotland, there was a variety of types of marriage one could enter into. (If you're a scholar of this already, just grant me some license here -- I realize my description is cartoonish, but the medieval-European-history-minor in me is slave to the hopeless romantic in me.) One of the "contracts" was intended to last for a year and a day; at the end of that time, the spouses could choose to commit more permanently, or go their ways freely. I proposed to Red and Chloe this: since I love you both beyond words, and since it's not realistic to make a marriage-style commitment before we have a plausible plan for moving in together, and that goal is at least six to twelve months away; how about we promise each other that we will stay together -- come hell or high water, sorrow, joy, other flirtations, angry moments, weariness, doubts or worries -- for a year and a day. How about that? Chloe said "Yes." Red said, "That's a no-brainer". I said "Let's go jewelry shopping!"

So the last thing we did before leaving Beloved Desert Getaway was to pick out two completely different rings: I could not have even approached guessing right about what Chloe would want, and was tickled with what she did choose. Mine is completely different, and I love it. Red preferred not to have another ring, neither to increase his total nor to replace one of his existing ones. (A couple of weeks later we got him some new hiking boots, approximately equal in value to each of our rings. This struck me as perfect.)

Of course, I should have known they'd both say yes. Just a week before, Red put a $6 bet on a Trifecta at the biggest race of the year, having asked me and Chloe what horses we liked. We won! We won big! We're still winning. We've won love.

Unhappy mess.

I am an unhappy mess. 

Lately I hate hanging out at Missy and Red’s house when there are normal everyday family things going on, because it makes me feel even more like an outsider than usual (and I usually feel a LOT like an outsider).  I am the elephant in the corner that everyone is afraid to mention.  I imagine their kids are wondering what the heck I am doing there all the time.  It doesn’t help that I practically have to sit on my hands in order to not hug or kiss someone off-handedly, or say something that would blow our cover – which makes me want to be there even less.   Missy and Red are the step-mom and the dad…I am…the Chloe.  I have no role, and it makes me sad.  I don't belong.  No, I don’t want Red to tell them about us – even if he actually WANTED to, his ex-wife is a raging…meanie. She would figure out how to take the kids away or get more money or do something else to make his life a living Hell.

Also, I have been worrying lately about what they say about decision making (whoever "they" are).  You know…that thing about how we keep making the same mistakes over and over again without realizing it?  I have had two ten-year marriages that didn’t work out.  I must be making a mistake. Clearly I can’t be making the SAME mistake this time, but am I making some version of a mistake that I’ve made in the past?  How would I even know what that mistake was?   While Missy and Red are in the Trifecta, their marriage is continuing, their family is stable, their retirement accounts are growing...  Meanwhile, at least to the outside world (which is unbelievably difficult to ignore), it appears as though my life is at a standstill.  I am a middle-aged mother living with a college student in an apartment with paper-thin walls.  I drive a used car that requires constant maintenance, I have a job with no future (or insurance or retirement fund), and I don’t date.  It appears as though I hang out a lot with a married couple who can’t seem to get rid of me.  If the Trifecta doesn’t last, I will be in worse shape than before, because I will be all that...and older.  

Man, am I being a big baby about all of this?

Rumor of Demise Exaggerated

Well, of COURSE the honeymoon is over. Were any of us still honeymooning, this far into any other relationship?

(If anyone actually reads this blog more than once, which seems unlikely, maybe they figured the month-long silence after Chloe's last post actually meant the Trifecta was dissolved. It's not.)

Funny: when Chloe wrote that post, she seemed to think I'd be surprised by it. Nope. It's true that I was unhappy on her account that week, but not because she wanted to spend time alone. It was because she was pretending to be okay when she wasn't, and I knew it, and it hurt my feelings that she thought she needed to insulate me from that. All I wanted (ironically) was for her to up and say the stuff she ended up saying here in the blog. How's that for recursive girl-overprotection-of-someone-else's-feelings?!

Anyway. We got past that. It's still the case that real life is distasteful, much moreso than usual, and it's got the Trifecta in a holding pattern. We aren't spending as much time together as we'd like, it's been too long since our last road trip, the quantity of sex is a fraction of what it was. (Quality is still high.) I've had it up to here with ex-spouses, and I'm even exasperated with everyone else's children.

In fact, right now I'm tired of everybody in the world, except for Chloe and Red. Still like my work, at least the patient care part. Am exasperated by my extended family (they lay on the guilt for not spending more time together, but when we do, they lapse into timeworn criticisms and eye-rolls. Which I don't do in return.) Even some of my friends and colleagues are getting on my nerves lately. Common theme = unreasonable expectations.

What I really feel like doing is repeating what I did 25 years ago, when I picked up and moved across country with a boyfriend, scaling back my attachments to family and friends, visiting them rarely. Of course I made new friends, but for a while my life revolved mostly around my partner, and our warm sweet household. What I wouldn't give to run off to the desert and start a new life with my girlfriend and boyfriend. I'd work halfway normal hours, swim in our long narrow pool for an hour every day, cook all the time, fuck like a volcano.

That.

It wouldn't be a honeymoon. We'd know what we already know, that we're each going to want to have holidays from the other now and then. That there will be stretches of time where we're not all feeling wildly in love. But it wouldn't be a problem, because we wouldn't be trying to steal moments together here and there when other people aren't looking.

Maybe that's the ultimate unreasonable expectation: that a Trifecta can thrive in the middle of one's pre-existing condition.


Desert ... desert ... desert ...

I’ll be the bad guy and admit that the honeymoon seems to be over…

I am reminded that this blog isn’t about just the happy and good times, but the challenges as well. There’s no use hiding the not-so-pretty parts. And in hiding them, we’d only be doing everyone and each other an injustice by making it appear to be all rainbows and sunshine.

I can only speak for myself of course, but this is the longest stretch of nitty-gritty reality that I have felt to date in the Trifecta. There was a while not long ago that these times were fleeting, or at least predictably temporary. This stretch feels never-ending. Work has been challenging , tension and emotions have been in the red zone, money is tight, schedules are hectic, vehicles are breaking down right and left, and the weather and families have been less than cooperative. Isn’t that just the perfect storm.

Lately I have felt burned out on LIFE. All of it. Sleep, peace, and quiet are foremost in my thoughts. I feel like a day or two (or five?) of not speaking or listening or looking anyone in the eye would do me some good. The dishes and laundry can pile up and I won’t feel bad. The TV can stay off in lieu of a mindless novel that I probably won’t remember five minutes after I’m done reading it. I have hardly noticed the stereo being off in my car during my daily commute. THAT is how tired I am of sensory input. Maybe that’s it – I just need a break from my own senses.

Posting my concerns will bring them out in the open (although I think the funk I'm in is obvious to anyone who knows me) and will probably worry Red and Missy. I maintain, however, that times like these will force a relationship thrive or fail. We should not panic or waste too much energy over-analyzing. This time was destined to come, and I think our relationship could potentially crash (or at least fizzle out) without us knowing whether or not we are capable of surviving less-than-happy days. I am not afraid of what is happening, I don't feel like running away, I don't see it as the end of anything - just a time to sit back and live in it, and see what happens at the other end.

I have a selfish streak. I swear I am usually a kind, giving, caring human being. I love others and am perfectly able to maintain long-term relationships. For the most part, I think I get along well with people and enjoy their quirkiness and differences. Sometimes though, if I begin to feel crummy enough, I will not care what other people think. I will not care about anyone or anything other than myself and my problems, no matter how insignificant they seem to other people (hence the selfishness). Caring for ME becomes my top priority. Anything or anyone who tries to help will probably fray my nerves even further, and make me more irritable. Leaving me alone during these times is probably best for everyone.

Understanding this about myself (I feel) is an accomplishment. Explaining it to my partner in a relationship seems like my responsibility. Attempting to help not one, but TWO people understand this and be o.k. with it has been difficult. Needing to be alone sometimes is not me running away from the Trifecta. It's not me hiding from my emotions. In fact, I see it as retreating to my corner to deal with my issues in my own time and way, without inflicting my mood on anyone else.

Missy and Red will have either similar or different ways of dealing with the end of the honeymoon (or maybe they already have, and I handled it beautifully? haha). I will do my best to understand and respect their needs as we move forward into whatever new phase happens to present itself... Conquering the end of the honeymoon should be celebrated! It means we are all returning to our normal selves and getting back to baseline, and are still all doing just fine. This is normal. It is good.

p.s. - searching Google for a "Three-person honeymoon" picture - I found THIS...   If that ain't foreboding...haha

Fair warning.

I'm on a bit of a bender, because just tonight I told my nearly 20 year-old daughter about the Trifecta, and it was (in that way only a 20 year-old can make it) ridiculously anticlimactic.  I'm NOT a fan of drama, and I dreaded "the talk," but c'mon - it's a threesome!  Apparently she has suspected, and/or all-out known about it for a long time.  There will be no scandalous Facebook posts from HER on that topic tonight.  Well...I am glad she didn't run screaming, that's the most important thing.

Regarding Missy's post of earlier this evening though, I do appreciate (admire?) her confidence that she can show me she loves me SO MUCH every single day, that I should just get over our inability to make a formal committment.  Maybe I will be!  I have been so far.  And I mean that sincerely.  But I won't be ashamed of the fact that I'm jealous that THEY have the security of marriage, while I am left feeling a little disposable.  Last hired, first fired - isn't that the way it works?  I will be the one that can't go to Red's Corporate Christmas Party.  Or Missy's Physician Appreciation Dinner.  And I will be the one who everyone wonders about at the holiday dinner or Super Bowl Party "who is that again, and why is she here?"  They are a given...the norm...the always accepted.  People who knew them "pre-me" will always root for their relationship to prevail (since the Trifecta is doomed, right?), and people who knew me before will always wonder why I can't go find a man (or woman) of my own.  And bonus...(not)...I can be voted off the island by not one, but two people, in a way that neither of them will have to worry about.  I won't get the health benefits or life insurance or hospital-visitation-on-the-death-bed privileges they are afforded (ok, that's a little far reaching, I know, haha).  But you catch my drift, right?

Of course, on another day, when I'm in a different mood...I am unbelievably humbled by the knowledge that my existence has changed their relationship forever, whether I like it or not.  No matter how good or bad this all turns out, their marriage will never be the same.  That is a lot of responsibility.  Responsibility that I sometimes don't feel capable of handling.  I didn't expect that.  In it's simplest terms, if they kick me to the curb, they hurt one person.  If I leave, I damage two.

Therein lies the difference between a threesome and the Trifecta.  We love, we suffer, we communicate, we celebrate, we fear, we worry...in a sometimes blissful, sometimes painful, but in always a brutally honest way.

Life Without Promises

It has been established in this forum that We Are Doomed. (See the very most hit-upon post, "Impossible Things", for proof.) So it shouldn't be any surprise that the issue of our untenable future arises from time to time.

At the moment, the curious feature of the Trifecta, for me, is that we are (1) persisting longer than I would have thought, and (2) still under the specter of doom at all times. I guess I imagined that either the one fact or the other would have prevailed by now. Because:

Red is a planner.

Chloe is a romantic.

I am a rebel.

My long-term relationships are three, and they go like this: I've been married to Red for six years, with him for eleven. Before that I was married for five years. Before that, I lived with a man for six years, who never promised to marry me nor have kids nor nothing. (I have not had children of my own, can't remember if I've mentioned that, and never will -- I love my stepchildren and that's plenty.) That first marriage was a mistake. I try to make a practice of "No Regret", so I'll go on record as saying I learned from it. There were no kids, no financial entanglements, it was easy to extricate myself from. But, it was ... unfortunate.

The previous relationship, on the other hand, was very meaningful to me. Let's call him Andrew. From the start, Andrew and I deferred the notion of marriage as Something Other People Do, because they need to feel like they have some official constraint keeping them together when they don't want to be. We didn't rule it out, the getting married thing, but we never considered it crucial. We had ups and downs -- I was in grad school, he was working, we were poor -- and we were very different personalities. He was quiet and reserved, I was bubbly and social. But together we had lots of friends, had an active life, enjoyed each other's company, and learned a lot from each other. It broke apart when I saw he was not all that jazzed about coming with me when my job would require relocating. Many months ahead, I said "if you're not into it, just tell me". He said he would. He didn't. I got a job in another city, and he didn't want to move. I declared that we were done. He said OK. It came time for me to move, and then he decided he couldn't live without me and asked me to marry him. I said: too late.

That makes it sound sad. In fact, most of the six years were great. The thing that made me and Andrew different from Red and his previous wife, or Chloe and her previous husband, is that we did not expect or extract from one another any promises about the future. I wanted to know he would stay with me, but I was willing to live without a ring or a wedding. I did not need a roadmap or a five-year plan. Did not build fantasies of how we would meld our families. We imagined how we would grow old together, but every time we had a storm of conflict, we made an active choice whether to stay together or go our separate ways. There was no legal bond, no family pressure, no structure of shame to influence our decision. Since we were already broke, there was no financial advantage or penalty to either of us for staying or going. And we stayed together longer than either of my marriages (so far).

Why am I going on about an old boyfriend in a blog about the Trifecta? (Bad form, you know, to wax rhapsodic about a partner from the past.)

Because it is very painful right now for Chloe to have no sense of security. No goal of official sanction in the future. Yes, I too wish we three could have such a thing -- but as Chloe observes, Red and I already have the societally acceptable bond. There is no "normal" room for any expansion of that relationship, only the secret versus the open-but-unconventional.

Her quandary causes me pain. I can't un-marry myself from Red (I mean I could, but it would be pointless). I can't invent some alternate universe in which our arrangement becomes widely accepted and we announce ourselves as newlyweds.

What I can do, since I am over-the-cliff in love with her, is make a living promise, every day: I care about you. You matter. I will support you, even on a day when I'm tired and sad and grouchy. I will shower all my dizzy happiness on you when a day is good.

That's what I mean when I say "I love you" to Red, too: but there's a visible symbol on my finger that holds me to it, not to mention a bunch of family. I want for both Red and Chloe to know that I can make a life of love -- I know how to do it, I've done it before -- where you don't have words like "wife" and "husband" to fall back on. In my twenties, Andrew and I joked about whether "mate" might be the best term to use for what we meant to each other. Now in my forties, I just want to soak up the warmth of my two lovers and language be damned.

Exploding Head.

Ask anyone: I am chatty. She’s a talker, that Missy. Can’t shut her up. Robs a room of all its oxygen, she does, if you give her half a chance.

When Chloe started this blog, I was afraid I’d have to sit on my hands so as not to monopolize the thing. Turns out, although I do have a lot to say – a whole freakin hell of a lot to say – my work keeps me tied up (and talked out*) so much that I rarely write these days.

Enough of that.

My head is at risk of asploding, if I don’t get the contents out in the form of words. There is so much to say. About the Trifecta, about each of my lovers, about all of us – so much more than “Christ this is complicated” or “dude this is awesome!”, which I figure is what comes across as the chorus and verse.

The very fact of me jotting down a stream-of-consciousness list of things I wanted to write about, for heaven’s sake, became a point of trauma the other day. Chloe was worried that I was generating a catalog of “Things That Suck”, and I don’t blame her – it wasn’t true, but was not a ridiculous expectation. You see, when it comes to scorekeeping (which I abhor, loudly) … I am the biggest offender. Maybe because professionally, societally, familially, I have the most to lose if we are open about our ménage a trois? Could be, or maybe I’m more petty and vindictive than I like to think I am. Probably both.

A few weeks ago we were on our way to our Desert Getaway Town for the weekend: Red was driving, Chloe had shotgun, and I was in the back of the car (the automotive geography of a threesome is always an interesting factor in a road-trip conversation). The topic turned to All That Holiday Shit. Our weekend in DGT was the reward for getting through the season, and we were processing early so as to dispense with the yucky stuff and move on to the drinking and hot sex. I stopped Chloe cold when she was making some remark about hating how we have to be so guarded about our affection around other people. She, I pointed out, is just about never the instigator of the stuff that gets us in trouble. It’s Red. Maybe because he’s the boy, whatever, doesn’t matter, but I was tired of hearing about how “we” have to watch ourselves when really it’s HIM who needs to keep a lid on it.

And somehow she did this thing, in the most sensible way possible, I don’t even remember the words – Chloe succinctly observed that I keep reviewing the same miserable list of fuckups, in a way that shames Red, and is a buzzkill for all of us. Somehow she did this without me feeling attacked or getting defensive or anything. There was just this moment of clarity, and I said “you’re right”.

Okay. So that’s an example of the emotional machinery at work. I won’t always feel the way I oughtta, but I can gain insight sometimes, with a little help from my friends.

Now. The more tangible machinery.

There is a HEAP of rich material I could share here about the sex we have. Now that we’re going on two years together, it’s not the brand new shiny experience it was – but we do make new discoveries, even as we settle into comfortable patterns. If I really had the nerve, I could burn this site down with tales of our smokin’ hot lovemaking. But I am not accustomed to writing porn.

I’ll get to a point, sometime, when I feel I can strike the right note. For today just a glimpse: there was a moment a few nights ago, when I had a nearly religious vision. I was kneeling behind Red as he was on top of Chloe, thrusting in the dark, and I was stroking his back, her legs – hearing her breath deepen, feeling her push up against him. I slid my hands up along her hips, cupping them, elevating her pelvis just a little … and a fleeting image raced through my mind, of standing on the chancel steps, facing the altar, raising up the heavy silver offertory bowl as the priest consecrated the congregation’s offering on Sunday morning. Her warm, smooth skin is the very opposite of that bowl. But the vessel I was holding did feel as though it was being blessed – transformed – as her orgasm became inevitable.

(Some of you might not find a churchy image a turn-on. Me? I almost came myself, at that moment.)

Stay tuned.

*It’s time I just say it: my job involves talking and listening all day. I’m not just a doctor, I’m a psychiatrist. So, yeah, it’s pretty ironic that I get tongue-tied here. But I’m not dumb enough to think my training makes me a mind-reader, or exempts me from the need to share what’s in my head about the Trifecta.

Reflection.

I have been reflecting back on the holidays, and considering how different they were than last year.

The funniest thing is that I was wrong (of course) when I thought I knew what to expect, and that things would be easier this year than last.  It's funny to me because I always try to remember that things hardly ever turn out as planned and oftentimes turn out differently than I could've ever imagined. I still somehow get lazy and fall back into the same pattern of thinking "oh, we've got this."  I never learn.

Some things are a given...yes, we will still need to hide this from the kids, yes, we will still need to behave in public (even in places where we THINK we are among open-minded people), yes, we will still have to struggle daily with living separately and the lack of time we have alone together, etcetera.  But life always has new and surprising ways of complicating matters at the most unexpected times.

Missy took her mom to lunch one day recently, which somehow turned into her coming out about the Trifecta.  I sincerely felt like vomiting.  I had to sit down - my heart was racing and I felt physically ill.  When is the last time you felt like that?  My belly was better after the explanation and description of how it went down, and what her mom thought about it.  Still, I didn't fully recover until sometime that evening.

At some point before Christmas, when relatives were visiting and the kids were decorating the tree at Missy & Red's house, one of the kids (an in-law) apparently saw something intimate (yet tame) go down between Red and I, and she then talked to Red's kids about it and Missy's sister - complicated.  On one hand, I do realize that we sometimes get sloppy about keeping up appearances, and we shouldn't let things like that happen.  On the other hand, I was really ticked off that because of one kid (who we hardly ever see), the goodness of our evening was erased.  It took the good memories away and turned them ugly and shameful.  Incidents like these are always discussed and worked out as much as they can be, but they remain on an ever-growing list of blame - whose fault was it that this "thing" happened, and when will the nasty, hateful list be brought up again...

Thank goodness there are always (sometimes daily) funny, ridiculous, sweet, loving, happy, sensual things that make those other things so much less bad. 

So upon reflection, the holidays were really no easier or more comfortable for me than the first time we were together for them, but I suppose I'll still keep the memories.  And maybe next year I'll remember to expect the unexpected...or take more Valium.

F*CK the Unicorn (and not in the good way).

Ok.  Admittedly, I am in a mood.

I read this:
http://slog.thestranger.com/slog/archives/2012/01/30/sl-letter-of-the-day-we-found-our-unicornbut-shes-engaged

I realize I am stuck on the moniker, and this isn't the topic of the article, but who wants the pressure of being "The Unicorn?"

On any given day, I usually appreciate and enjoy Dan Savage's advice.  I really do.  Trust me.  But who wants to be "The Unattainable," or "The Elusive," or the object of the "Dude! You didn't really think you'd ever get a piece of that, AND still keep your wife, did you?!" type of locker room banter.

Maybe some girls do, but not me.  Well, not at MY age anyhow.

All I have ever wanted was to be satisfied, and (dare I say?) happy.  Once in a while, (or ok, often...) some adventure and excitement in my relationship are great and fun.  Why is it so disturbingly rare to be in a happy, long-lasting, committed relationship?  Why is must it be even more rare to find two people to be loved by?  Is there some unimpassioned ruling entity out there that says "threesomes" must be made of hopelessly beautiful people, engaged in short term, fleeting and/or risque encounters?  Are there no other "normal" people out there who crave committed intimacy (with...eek! more than one person?) on a long-term, loving basis?  Please help me discover that someone else has forged this path and can offer advice that will make my daily living situation less...impossible.

We have told our story...we hear stories...but have we ever actually MET anyone?  Not all three of them in the same room at the same time.

Good for all you young, sexy, beautiful, successful twenty- or thirty-somethings, engaged in exciting, fulfilling threesomes.  I can hardly wait to read someday about how perfectly and wonderfully things worked out for you.  And I sincerely hope they do.

Haven't we (meaning "most people," I suppose) all been at some point, ridiculously fanciful and full of beautiful, utopian fantasies of the "dream relationship" occuring during our lifetime?  No one said it would be easy.  Only after one has experienced the excruciating emotions of not only love, but loss, hatred, grief, bliss, dissappointment, betrayal, jealousy, and spite (among all others), have we become whole, and therefore finally capable of experiencing that "dream relationship."  In whatever form it may take.

Wait.  Is it just me?

I am human.  I am no more or less special than anyone else.  I want to feel cared for and loved.  I want to care for and love.  I don't need to be labeled.  Not "The Third" or "The Prize" or (God forbid) "The Unicorn."   I am a human being - trying to be as satisfied as possible during the little time I have left on this earth. 

I would appreciate if you would refer to me and treat me as such.

Thank you.

P.S. - I have truly and sincerely, down to my CORE, fully enjoyed and appreciated all the special treatment and attention I have received over the past two years.  However, it wouldn't be fair to any of us if EACH ONE of us didn't feel that wonderful at any given moment.