The Man Behind the Curtain
Part II of the Bad Polyamory Story
Five years into being in an open marriage, I had found myself polyamory single for the first time. To fix being single and married, I had to date. I would have been content to never go on a date again. I had not started dating till my mid-20s and found the whole process of dick picks and personal ads, one that made me want to join a nunnery.
In what felt like 2 seconds after turning on the dating apps again, I was on the stupidest date I’d ever conceived of. After talking to a man for several days, I agreed to meet him at the goddam mall.
Despite there being several restaurants to choose from, we spent the date walking in a pointless circle around the mall. While walking, we shared the particulars of how we might navigate dating each other while married to other people. I asked questions that I hoped would lead me to the info I wanted. I did not have the courage to ask him what I wanted to know.
“How long have you and your wife been married?” I asked him as we were passing Claire’s. I was really wanting to know but not asking what type of wife I might be dealing with. I longed for simplicity, being most concerned with the person’s movie choices and hobbies.
“We have been married for 37-years, 4 children, only one left at home. We haven’t had sex in years.” He noticed that this statement stopped me in my tracks and gestured over to a table for us to sit down.
“How did you get to the place where you don’t have sex anymore? That scares me about this lifestyle,” I spit out at him. I thought a sexless marriage was something I could catch or had any control over ending up there.
“It’s a place we just evolved into. It’s not about being poly; it’s about us wanting different types of sex.” A pattern was starting to emerge- Direct question, indirect answer.
Trying to get more info out of him, I changed the topic again. “So, you and your wife are also dating another couple?”
“Sort of. My wife has been dating my girlfriends’ husband.” He noticed my confusion, grabbed a Cinabun napkin, and drew out this convoluted relationship configuration. Despite the marriages, the relationships were one-directional between him and his girlfriend and his wife and her boyfriend.
“My girlfriend and her husband don’t have sex either.”
“That worries me a lot,” I said, studying the napkin. I stared at it, like it held the secret of how to be poly without ending up in a sexless relationship and have a ruined marriage.
“You don’t need to worry about that. It won’t happen to your marriage.” He offered this statement like he was handing me a soothing blanket to wrap myself up in and enjoy the lie.
He gestured to get up, and we started walking again without explaining why we were moving. While he began to tell me fantastic stories about his experiences, I stared at a baby getting her ears pierced by a girl who could not have been older than 14.
He drew me back in with turning the story to his wife, “I’ve noticed if she sets a rule, it’s a rule for me, not her.”
“Why do you put up with that?” I questioned. This broke my brain a bit. The right way to do polyamory was to have the same rules for everyone.
“She’s complicated. She got hurt by a relationship with a guy who catfished her.” Again, direct question, indirect answer.
Pivoting the direction of the conversation and our direction towards the exit next to Macy’s, he said, “I’d like you to meet my girlfriend.”
“Is that like a rule in dating you?” I asked, stopping in my tracks again.
“No, it’s not a,” He laughed. “You will be good friends with her.”
“What’s she like?”
“She’s a massage therapist. She kind of fashions herself after tinker bell.”
“Tinker Bell?” I questioned him with a disgusted look on my face.
“You two have more in common than you realize.” He offered again another lie to wrap myself up in.
He said goodbye and left me in sort of a stupid daze. In the circles of the mall, I had agreed to be in a relationship with this man. I did not see the fantastic show he was putting on with words to keep me focused, not on the man behind the curtain.
