The Single Slut

pexels-photo-89820In the book Ethical Slut, a person without a primary partner is described as a single slut. This person may be seeing no one or may be seeing a few people, but they aren’t really committed to anyone in a deep way.

I had thought Spouse could be my primary partner. But I realized recently that I don’t actually feel that he is. Words like primary only have the meaning we put behind them and only matters insofar as they inspire action. The truth is, I don’t trust Spouse again yet and while I was fulfilling his needs in a primary partner, he was not fulfilling mine.

This became obvious when he forgot to wish me a happy birthday and couldn’t understand why that felt upsetting to me. I should be clear in saying that Spouse is not a jerk or an idiot. In fact, he’s very kind and very intelligent. But certain basic things that come to other people seem to elude him completely. I’ve often theorized that he exists somewhere on the spectrum, but who really knows.

But there was this moment when we finally talked about him forgetting that I realized: this man is not my primary partner. He’s a man I love, a man I grew up with, a man I hope will always be a part of my life. But he is not my person anymore. He cannot now and may never be able to be the kind of primary partner I need.

In the same week, Storyteller, who I had started to become quite close with ended things with me. I started seeing him before transitioning to nonmonogamy and so he really didn’t sign up for this. We both knew that eventually he would choose to be monogamous with someone else. I’m very sad that that day came. But I understand.

So that leaves me with a few things. There is Feathers, who already has a primary and who I wouldn’t want to couple in that way with in any case. Then there is Spouse, who I am disentangling myself more and more each time things like this happen. And then a few relationships that are sporadic and primarily sexual in nature.

And so, I am something of a single slut these days. And that’s a good thing. Losing Storyteller and in some ways, Spouse has made space in my life for whatever is next and I can’t wait to see what that is.

 

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Dividing the books

Spouse and I decided it doesn’t make sense to live together in our old apartment again. For years we haven’t slept in the same bed anyway, one of us always ended up on the couch. He snores and we both have serious sleeping problems. We also have very different ideas about acceptable levels of cleanliness at home. And now, with non monogamy, it’s hard to imagine living together again. 

Anyway, it’s a decision we both feel good about. Our lease is up in August and depending on how things are we may move into a two bedroom and have separate bedrooms and hire a cleaner. Or, separate apartments in the same building. Or on the same block. Who knows. 

But, I won’t be moving back into the place we built together. So today, I went to go get the rest of my things. Not every last item.. and it isn’t time to divide furniture or anything. 

The process of packing the rest of my things up, alone, was sadder than I expected. Especially dividing our books. Spouse and I both love to read and own the books we love. 

I remember when Spouse and I moved in together after we got married, we had such a great time combining our books. We were so young and totally poor. In fact, we had a pile of blankets in the living room we referred to as our “couch” for months and we could not afford book shelves. So we sat on the wood floor in the sun from the big front window, categorizing and stacking our books, telling each other the signifance of many as we did. It is one of my most tender memories from the beginning of our marriage. 

So today, as I scanned our bookshelves in our fancy apartment downtown, I felt so sad to be dividing our collection. It was also hard to decide who kept what. Some were mine before but became favorites of his and vice versa. Some we bought one another and even harder, the books we bought together because we both wanted to read them and both ended up loving them. 

Even though this isn’t the end of our marriage, it is the end of our marriage in the way it had existed. I tried to remind myself of the months I spent crying myself to sleep out of pain and loneliness in that apartment. I tried to remind myself that this is the right choice for us both. I tried to remind myself that we are happier now. But it still hurt to separate those books and bring them to my new place. 

I also took some things from the walls. I had carefully constructed a collage above our king sized bed of pictures of us, our dogs, our families, our vows written out in beautiful calligraphy and framed, dried flowers from our wedding day, and some of our favorite art. I just took two small things from the collage because disturbing it too much felt wrong. Although our marriage wasn’t working, it also needn’t be destroyed. Just reworked. Which this collage will also need now. 

So I spent a lot of the day crying to sad music as I sorted. But. I finally feel fully moved into my new place. I’m glad I did that alone. I am truly on my own for the first time in my life. I still relied partially on my parents before I met Spouse and then when we got married I took on so much responsibility for our lives. So even though he’s still in my life, I don’t know that we’ll ever combine lives the way again. 

And so, dividing the books was emotional, but as I’m laying here in bed looking at my full collection of poetry, I feel calm.