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.

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.

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 ...

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.

*yawn*

So very boring.

Well, no: the Trifecta continues to be the most novel and engaging thing in my life, and I want to spend every minute I possibly can just reveling in it.

And there are still periods of melodrama. There's a family member who thinks Chloe and Red are having an affair, without me knowing (which would make me the THICKEST wife EVER), and while we would love to disabuse this person of their delusion, that would probably blow our cover at work, which might get someone fired. So we're still debating what to do, and how to arrange life around this person (total avoidance is not an option).

There are exciting new discoveries. (Remember Mexico, where we learned that straight boys AND straight girls gave us the thumbs-up? Turns out, gay guys are also impressed by Red! And make us feel welcome in their bars, so far without exception.)

I finally got everybody rings. Here is one of them:

Because in three weeks, we reach our one-year mark.

I'm pretty sure I have never been this happy. By turns it gets dramatic, weird, exciting, and confusing. But it also has gotten *comfortable*. It has become the default, the Way Things Are. That may be the best part of all.

NOT for the faint of heart.

For a while now, I have been trying to identify a single thing (or even a list of things) that might be the unspeakable thing that makes the Trifecta impossible.  Everyone tells us it’s impossible – that we don’t stand a chance…shoot, we tell OURSELVES that a lot.  Some people even tell us of similar experiences they’ve had that have failed, and why.  I suppose it’s a defense mechanism of mine…solve the puzzle of what “the thing” is so that I can try to avoid it or prevent it or fix it before it explodes in my face.  This is not for everyone – it is not for the faint of heart.

Well I haven’t quite figured out “the thing” (what am I, a genius?!), but I have narrowed it down to something workable that feels so much less frightening than the deep, dark unknown. 

It turns out that "the thing" isn't a single thing at all, but EVERYTHING.  Everything that I have done, seen, felt, thought, planned for, envisioned, etc. in a traditional M/F relationship has been one way – the way that society taught me, the way that was modeled by my parents and relatives and the way I learned on my own while dating and being married.  I became accustomed to it – expecting certain things, feeling certain ways, it was my norm.  Relationships were two dimensional.  Everything in the Trifecta is so much more intense than what I have spent my whole life learning – it is not “a thing” about the Trifecta that makes it volatile or fragile, it is the intensity level of EVERY SINGLE THING!  We are definitely in 3-D now.  The highs are higher, lows are lower, anger is more harmful, hurt is more painful…it’s like my world is more saturated now.  It can be beautiful, but it can also be excruciating and just downright exhausting. 

I feel like I learned to swim in a heated pool and have accidentally fallen into the ocean.  The idea is the same – I can still swim, but the waves are HUGE!  People drown out here.  There are things here that I don’t even know the names of…that could eat me!

This is not for the faint of heart.  We must be strong.  We must be careful.  We must be ready for anything.  The odds of one person being able to handle such a thing on an ongoing basis seems improbable.  The odds of my accidentally stumbling upon not one, but TWO other people who can do the same, and who want to be with ME?  Please.  That number has a decimal point and a lot of zeros behind it.

Sh*tstorm? Brainstorm!

So the triad's praises be sung, with respect to lovin', and life support, and all that. We really ARE a party in a box - and I like me some box. I mean, some party. Anyway.

As things progress, and we're not feeling obliged to make Every Single Visit as full of romance as it could possibly get, we start to learn the things people always learn how to navigate in relationships. Shampoo. Mayonnaise vs. Miracle Whip. When one of the girls gets tearful, it may not mean exactly the same thing as when the other one gets tearful. Is the boy expected to shift gears between the temperaments of the two girls? Well, I shift gears between the boy and the girl, so, of course!! Um, or not. We're still figuring stuff out.

But last night, when I was exhausted and grouchy, and thinking out loud trying to figure out logistics for a complicated series of events, Chloe and Red popped out with two ideas in a row that were brilliant. Brilliant! Not rocket science, but exactly what I needed at the time. Three brains on board, I'm tellin ya...

Out on a limb.

I imagine anyone who's been in bed with two other people at once has had the delicious experience of suddenly realizing: you're not sure who that extremity belongs to.

"Wait - there's a hand there? ANOTHER hand? Wow!"

A fun moment for a girl in a M/F/F triad is figuring out whose it is based on size, texture, and the aforementioned hair quotient.

"Hmm, those are soft lady fingers. Ooh."

But my favorite limb, by far, is the leg. Six legs. SIX of them. I've always loved a leg draped over me, or mine draped over someone else. Nowadays, there are so many intertwined legs it's like leg heaven. Sometimes I walk into the room and see the other four legs, bent in gentle embrace, and it almost makes me faint from joy. At that moment, I feel compelled to tangle myself up in them and just loll around for a while.

Which we have dubbed: THE TRITANGLE.

Who you callin' straight??

So that out-of-town trip last weekend was to where my oldest friend (from the first days of college) was throwing an insanely cool birthday party for his husband. Of the 16 people present, 10 were officially gay. As Red and I arrived, one of the other six (Tall Guy) greeted us with "Hey, good to see some other straight people here!" Standard banter for this crowd.

Later that night at dinner, we're pouring out yet another round of wine.

Tall Guy: "There ya go - and here's to the straight contingent!"

Me: "Heck yeah!" *clink*

Red: [elbows me in the ribs]

Me: (whispering) "Oh, right - wait, crap! Do I not count?"


Later, Oldest Friend hears this story and cracks up. Red solemnly observes: "We eschew labels." And that much, Dear Reader, is true.

This post is not about "what is my sexual orientation?" ... Not only do I not care what you call me, or what I call myself, I think the question is boring. I am Chloe-and-Red-o-sexual, is all that matters. No: what arrests me about this moment is the issue of Coming Out.

I noted in passing that a couple of months into our intense, jaw-dropping, dizzingly happy and also VERY SECRET relationship, National Coming Out Day came and went. I had no desire to walk through a cardboard closet door on the college plaza, though I did think that was awfully cute back when I first saw it. But I wish - dearly - that we didn't have to hide so hard. From family, friends, co-workers (all of whom think Chloe is wonderful but whose heads would explode if they really knew why we hang out so much).

We three have traveled out of town some, to get away from it all - which of course has the added bonus of a king-sized bed. (We actually went to a hotel seven miles from home one night, just for that part - I mean, even as close as we are, the queen mattress is a little crowded when it comes to sleeping.) It's been divine to squeeze Chloe's knee at the table, see her kiss Red at the next chair, feel her fingertips drifting across the back of my neck, and not worry that an ex-spouse's best friend might report back on the scandal. There are places where we can walk down the street hand-in-hand-in-hand and no one bats an eye. Then we get back to a bar near home a few days later, and at some point as we're talking and laughing Chloe leans over to kiss me, and at the last second we both spring back: shit! We're not allowed to do that here!

I get that part of being not-altogether-straight, now.

And honestly, it's one of the most painful things so far. It keeps me up nights sometimes. I love them both so, so much. I want to wear a little discreet piece of symbolic jewelry, and decorate them with the same. I want to take all our vacations together. I want to live in the same house, yes-in-the-same-room-why-do-you-ask-Mom?

We joke all the time about trading up to the giant California King size bed. But that's only a fraction of the way in which we don't fit.

A Win-Win-Win Situation.

Last night, worn out from the long drive home, and then blissed out from hours and hours of re-connecting with much-missed Chloe, I slept extra deep. Woke abruptly in the wee hours, and for a millisecond was convinced that it was her body pressed against my back. That was disorienting: it's rare that she gets to spend the night at our house, so ... was I in a hotel room? Were we traveling? Had I forgotten what day it was?

In an instant I realized there were actually just two people in the room, and it was the hairier of the bodies I love to be pressed up against that was really there. At home. Red shifted and slept on, as I got up for a drink of water.

On the one hand, I thought, I am the luckiest person alive. Loved by a wonderful man and an amazing woman. It never occurred to me that one could do this thing. On the other hand, it does invite a host of difficult challenges into one's life.

Like for instance: why do restaurant tables only come in rectangles?

This forces an awkward choice. Two on one side, so who is the odd person out? And does Third Person sit opposite the one, or the other? Are we supposed to remember who sat where last time, for fairness' sake? Little round tables are fine, but there's usually not enough room for all the knees.

And also: who rushes to whose defense when an unpleasant moment descends? Ah, thinks the Dear Reader, this is more what I was expecting. This three-some / three-way / triad / trio / thing must be full of unholy alliances, simmering resentments, and pitfalls just waiting to happen.

Well, it seems that when grownups take a deep breath and choose to give this a try, they may just be Paying Attention much more than usual. Because somehow the three of us are managing to take care of each other's needs, and our own, better than we ever did in any of the two-ways we've ever been in.

And did I mention the crazy good sex?