Heart: crushed.

I should have posted this a while ago. This follows on from my last post back in September about how I was going to deal with my non-monogamous boyfriend, given that I’m a one-man gal. This tale is set  in February 2014.

Previously, I had decided that instead of forbidding him to do something (not my style) that I would just let him see how much it hurt and hope that got the message across. This was a flawed plan.

His fooling around with others had dwindled off and ceased since my last post which was great for me: finally monogamy without the awkward conversation! Hurrah! Except that not having that conversation meant that WE HADN’T HAD THAT CONVERSATION. Fuck.

In a scenario straight out of a badly-written sitcom, I stumbled across an online conversation between him and another girl (who I didn’t particularly like before, can’t stand her now!) while looking for music to play while I did a nice thing and tidied his flat for him (he’s been working too hard). This conversation went mainly along the lines of “I really enjoyed pushing you up against that wall while waiting for our cab on Wednesday,” and “I can’t stop thinking about the feeling of cumming over your tits while you bit down on my nipple”. Not exactly fucking ambiguous.

Livid is probably a fair description of my reaction. I texted him at work, he called me straight back and confirmed the absolutely obvious. I swore at him, hung up and packed all the bits I’d ever left in his house and walked, sobbing, into the rain to find a bus for the long journey home.

He called again and asked me to stop in my tracks, he was in a cab on the way over and needed to talk to me. I waited in the rain, not wanting to go back into his house, still so angry but starting to just feel sad. When he arrived I felt the anger swell up again and managed to fit in some good stand-in-the-street-yelling, which is always satisfying for my Mediterranean streak.

Apparently, the fact that both he and this other girl had checked I was ok with them playing together 9 months previously, had meant that he had assumed that was a standing agreement. My argument was that he knew I was monogamous and how else had he expected me to react?

My main question for him was Why? Why had he felt the need to go get his rocks off elsewhere when a moments forethought would have predicted my distress? I am far from boring in the bedroom, consistently willing, and she even looks like a shorter version of me so it can’t have been a desire for a change of scenery. His answer was good, and frustratingly un-counterable:

“I was being selfish. I wanted to take advantage of our open relationship for no other reason than the fact that I could.”

And that’s when I realised, I should have had the conversation. Wanting him to just know is all well and good, but it I haven’t laid out my terms exactly, and just hoped he’s spotted an evolution in our relationship, then he is left with a bunch of loopholes that human nature will try and slip through.

I made it very clear that he had broken my heart. I even confessed that I had thought I was falling in love with him but that had now been corrected, and then I took some time out and didn’t speak to him for a week. That week was hard for him and I’m glad. Despite the fact that I may not have set out my stall clearly enough, he is not a stupid man, and part of him knew what he was risking.

We have terms now. We met in a neutral place and I outlined my terms for a continued relationship. Given that I want to try threesomes and group sex with him, it’s hardly like I’m asking him to only ever be sexual with me, but I am asking to be included in all future sexual activity. We hashed things out and have managed to carry on. The wound in my heart is healing, but there’s definite lumps of scar tissue.

I wonder if I will ever start to fall in love with him again.

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