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.

 

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.

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.