Jumping Back into the Deep End

So I debated a bit before posting this. I weighed the possible consequences before deciding to go ahead and post this and decided that I wasn’t being true to myself or to my original purpose to this blog – sharing those deepest darkest thoughts I can’t give voice to in real life – if I chose to censor myself on this. It is interesting that I started writing here with the idea that I was writing for myself and not for others so I could share anything. That worked for a long time, until I started to meet and care about other bloggers and to care what they thought of me. I need to get back to that original purpose so that this blog doesn’t turn into “Memes R Us” or “All Fluff All the Time” as it has been lately. I will feel bad if my topics cause some readers to leave or to ream me in the comments or email, but I will survive. Things are what they are and no meme, no internet quiz, no freakin’ haiku is going to adequately serve me and my purposes here. None of those comes close to giving voice to my deepest and darkest and most unspoken thoughts.

BJ and I have what I would call a semi-open relationship. We are each free to “have fun” with others as long as it is with permission of the other one. We have agreed that mostly this will be with us together but occasionally may mean one or the other of us individually. For the most part I’m good with that. For the most part. Most of the time. I don’t know if we ever specifically made an agreement, or if based on discussions I assumed we had an agreement, that condoms would be used with anyone except each other. However, that’s the rule I thought was in place.

And all was good until. . .

During a recent phone conversation BJ brought up that “Esther” had shared a “weird piece of news” that very day with him. Apparently, a man Esther “knew” (don’t you just love the overuse of quotation marks?) tested positive for gonorrhea. Apparently they were together before she and BJ were together (yes, I knew, and yes, I gave permission) the weekend I was at Drama’s. Now she’s being tested and BJ told me so is he. I sat for a moment thinking things through. Then I said to BJ, “Well at least you used a condom, right?” He hesitated, then said “Well, not really.” (I think that just means “No” while trying to make it sound not quite so bad as “No”) Deep breath. . . I didn’t say much more about it at that time. Since then we’ve talked about it a bit, very calmly and rationally.

The good news is that he told me up front about the situation.
The bad news is that he didn’t live up to what I thought our agreement was – using condoms every time. Not that he wouldn’t still need to be tested, but at least it would be somewhat less likely for him to have it.
The good news is that we talked about it all very calmly and rationally.
The bad news is that this is one more nail in the coffin of my trust of BJ. . . and unfortunately right when I was really letting go and trusting again.
The good news is that he was tested today.
The bad news is we may not have the results in time for us to be able to resume activities if it’s an “all clear” before his daughter arrives for a week long visit.

It is a fact of life that if you choose to be non-monogamous you will run risk of diseases that could be avoidable merely by being monogamous. We each choose what level of risk we are willing to take. My biggest issue with all of this is that I thought we agreed to one level of risk, and he took it to a different, and more dangerous, level.

Now, on to the really whiny self-pity portion of the show. (Note: you’ve been warned so proceed with caution. You may wish to end reading here.)

I feel like I am really very giving and understanding and open, more so than many women are. I feel like a man should feel a little lucky to be with me if he is not inclined to be monogamous because I can go with that flow. However, I do have limits. Goodness knows there aren’t many, but the ones I do have I expect to be respected. It makes me angry to think that for how few restrictions I would put on things, even those can’t be respected. It hurts my feelings. I try to act all “oh it’s no big deal” and not make a big fuss about it, but it doesn’t stop the feelings from being there. It doesn’t keep me from crying over it in private. It doesn’t keep me from wondering if there is any man anywhere who would meet me in the middle and stick to agreements about what is okay and not okay.

Enough of the whining self-pity and back to real life.