Part One:  FALLING IN LOVE

So, keekah has asked some of her poly friends to contribute to her blog, as I understand it, in an attempt to show you wonderful readers that there are as many different ways to be poly as there people who *are* poly. Mine is unconventional, even for the already unconventional poly lifestyle.

I am a “third” in a poly-fidelitous triad. What that means is that I am involved with a married couple. Our situation is unique in that we didn’t date each other before we became lovers – but rather we are close friends who chose to commit our lives to one another. In fact, we’ve been committed to each other for most of our lives – though we’d never thought to call it polyamory until a couple of years ago.

I met “Hubby” when we were children. Our parents were acquaintances and later good friends. I remember him being in and out of my life throughout my childhood, and in my late teens, as our parents grew closer, I spent a lot of time with him. He was a few years older than me, and had married by then. Through him, I met and later married my first husband (his best friend). Though it was a bit unconventional, I considered Hubby one of my closest friends, if not my best friend.

“Wife” was my high school friend. When we met we felt an instant connection. People thought we were sisters. Her family unofficially “adopted” me. Later, after high school, through jobs and cross-country moves and a million other changes, she and I stayed close. My children have called her their “second mom” their entire lives. At my wedding, Wife was my maid of honor, and Hubby was our best man.

When Hubby divorced from his first wife, he asked me for Wife’s phone number. I lost them for a few months as they blissfully blundered through their honeymoon period, until reality set in and they returned to me; their relationship was often turbulent and spotted with periods of separation (both circumstantial and by choice). During those times, I straddled both relationships. When my marriage fell apart, Hubby was a comfort (from a distance, he lived on a different coast at that time), and Wife moved in with me to fill the void. Later, they called a truce, married one another, and I was Wife’s maid-of-honor (as an aside, though this surprises some, my ex-husband was best man; I’ve always felt that exes should be friends not enemies).

Fast forwarding many years, I found myself free falling from a second divorce, standing on a city bridge during a music festival, alone on the East Coast. My cell phone was ringing. I’d been talking to Wife for days as she emotionally guided me through the horrendous process of detangling myself from my second husband. She had suggested I drop my career and the life I’d built in that city and bring my children back to the West Coast where my family was, where my children’s father was, where she was. I was hesitating.

Thinking she was calling me again, I answered the phone without looking at Caller ID. “You should see the view,” I said. “I’m standing on a bridge overlooking the city skyline listening to Shinedown play on the stage next to me.”

“I’m sure the view isn’t nearly as beautiful as you.” The voice on the line surprised me. It was male. It was my best friend. My other best friend. “When are you coming home?”

After that call, there was no question what I would do next. I loaded up my car with my three kids and all the belongings that meant anything to me and drove 3,000 miles to start a new life with the two people who meant the most to me.

Wife and I had joked about getting married (just as soon as our state made it legal) years earlier. It was during one of the periods when she and I were living together, without any men. She was the housewife, she took care of the kids, and I brought home the bacon and paid the bills. The only thing missing was Hubby, but at that time, the concept of *sharing* or taking care of each other’s needs hadn’t ever come up.

This time, I moved into *their* home. From the start, Hubby faced envious teasing from friends about his “two” wives, and this initiated talks about what it would be like if that were a reality. I verbally expressed that after two failed marriages, I realized my ideal marriage would be if I could just marry the two of them. At the time, it was a joke, a wistful and amusing sentiment, one we all thought impossible.

But after a couple of months, after I found a new job and was making preparations to leave, Wife sat me down and said that she didn’t think I should leave. She asked me to stay.

So I did.

Later I realized that those first few months, in which we began to explore more and more what it meant to be together in every way, just the three of us, was what poly people sometimes call NRE – New Relationship Energy. It was a honeymoon period. I was ecstatic to be living with, making love with and just in a relationship with my two best friends. During this time their marriage went through RRE – Renewed Relationship Energy. They fell back in love with each other (though, to be honest, they never fell out of love).

It was the NRE that carried us through the first few turbulent months of figuring out how to make it all work.

Tomorrow:  Part Two:  Figuring It Out

Cost of monthly service:  $55

Sound of cell phone vibrating on counter as my nearest and dearest send me birthday wishes:  Priceless

On Sunday, the three of us went to Casa Bonita because Jeffery had never been.  It was as awful as everyone told him… and yet we were all together.  Therefore, we had a blast.

He even made us walk through Bart’s Cave.

At any rate, if you have a moment today, just stop and hum Happy Birthday in honor of my love’s birthday.  I will feel the vibes and pass on the love (in my fashion of course) to him.

Happy birthday, my love!  May you have a good day.

Now, we all handle stresses in life differently. I suppose there could be arguments back and forth about the best way to handle things in your life versus bad ways, but in the heat of the moment when emotions are running high, sometimes you default to the only way you personally know how to deal with those stresses.

In May, I lost my 46 year old brother to a long illness. In addition to that, my love lost a friend, who was also in his forties, to a heart attack. These were heavy, deep losses for both us – and a reminder to him of how fragile life is – how easy it can slip away. Add on top of that the relationship we both tried with our ex-girlfriend – how much time and effort was put into, all the compromises made and all the horrible times that overshadow any good times we shared during the relationship. It can make a man wonder about the choices he made in his life – to wonder if he’d made the right ones and been true to himself – especially in the middle of a stupid, inconsequential fight about money.

In the end, we didn’t break up. He explained to me his frame of mind at the time, and I tried to understand where he was coming from at that moment. During the explanation, other issues came up from him, including the fact that he was feeling stifled. He felt he couldn’t explore outside relationships, without me, based on what had occurred with our ex-girlfriend and also based on some of my responses to interests he’d had in other women after the dissolution of the triad. I can’t pretend I wasn’t devastated by his choice to break up rather than talk through these issues with me, even though he rescinded his break up request. But I have to admit, there was truth to what he said. While I’d never openly said I didn’t want him to date others without me, I wasn’t ever really supportive when he expressed interest. Because I was scared; I was scared of the unknown.

The initiation of this break up was exactly what we both needed. It took me more than a few months to see it this way. As I said, I was hurt by his choice. But, knowing who he is and loving every part that makes up him, I can see why he felt cornered. And even though his head was telling him to leave, his heart reminded him of what we had together, what we had achieved together, and in the end, he couldn’t leave.

Maybe other people wouldn’t see it that way but I do. He loved me enough to stay and talk out his fears based on all our losses, including the ex-girlfriend and that whole traumatic, messy, unnecessary experience that was she. He loved me enough to admit what he needed and have faith that I would work through my fears. And I love him enough to let go of my ego, work through my own issues, and have faith in our love.

We just celebrated our four year anniversary on August 2^nd. I marvel at how little time that really is and how much has transpired in those four years. I know nothing in this life has guarantees. I know a truly committed relationship takes work to sustain it during the rough patches. And I even admit it is entirely possible that my relationship with my love won’t last a lifetime. But I’m betting on the odds that we have what it takes to make it in the long-term.