My recent stint as a sidechick (I know, I know MISTRESS REHAB & "dust to side chicks"! I didn't forget) has left me thinking. And, though, I haven't reached any new conclusions, my mind is open and wandering, I must say.
I have hated the word polyamory since I first heard it (seriously, it gives me the creeps), and easily chalked it up to a fancy way that 'conscious folk' label their inability to commit to a single partner. I had a Christian friend go in on me yesterday about seeking the love of God, as the only means of satisfying an extremely greedy need to feel and experience real love. Touché girlfriend, touché!
I'm not confused about myself or my desires, though. I love sex, I adore men and if I had it my way I wouldn't fucking share the D with another female ever. But, when I think about past lovers I'm instantly transported into a parallel state of being where standards are lenient and commitments lie firmly and only with my self, my desires and my perfect freedom to do, be and express.
My Christian friend would call this justifying (and, who could argue?). I didn't fight the idea, although I took some offense, because it is probably true. I have not given up the idea that dabbling in multiple lovers is a shitfest and creates chaos such that life tasks easily go unattended due to the extraordinary drama and confusion that almost always explodes and implodes, in this type of unfortunate setup.
Erykah Badu said: I know I'm a lot of Woman, but not enough to divide the pie.
That reminds me that I haven't just magically and conveniently forgotten what I know about soul ties, karmic debts or honoring the Sisterhood, forever. I also did not much like sharing my husband with 4 other women, not even when he was being honest about going to spend the night with one of them. In truth, I hated it, even though he was not a man I was in love with. I married out of fear and worked like a crazed woman to give him every reason to remain loyal until the last few weeks of our marriage. Then, I snapped and couldn't uphold the heaviness of that particular charade anymore. Of course, there were days when I was in a flow state, and very near happy. But, mostly I felt like I was trapped in a dream.
Alas, I haven't been a man's mistress since I was 19 or 20. But, found myself recently twirling along the outskirts of a failing relationship. My inner muse-siren-faerie was on the loose again, pining to sink her unrelenting teeth into something young, fresh and ripe. Mmmm! And when he ditched that relationship one day...I erupted like Pele, the volcanic goddess of passion. And, he was delightful, and even now, his friendship and malleability is a delectable (though dying) thing. He's like salty caramel, to me. But, the pain that this sort of fringe, in-between, twined in an on-again-off-again young love situation causes makes the whole thing pointless. It's very much like drinking too much alcohol. One thinks one is having the most fun, but ultimately the cold reality sets in and the after effects crash in with the most unyielding and unmerciful force I've ever personally encountered.
The reality of love-geometric-shapes (whether it's a love triangle or a love-pentagon) is that pain holds tight at each point and people crumble and this prevents harmony. Oneness doesn't mean we all need to be boffing each other's mates. But, damn I'd be lying if some primal biological pull didn't activate itself inside my core when I get a whiff of some of these committed men.
Back to the prayer corner I go... Spirit ain't done with me yet.
p.s. None of this means any judgment to any woman anywhere, including myself. It means I understand, and I am here for you, and I hope you are here for me too.