UGH.

I have a bladder infection. Frequency, pain, blood.

In all the sex I’ve had these last 8 months (and it has been A LOT), I have somehow avoided any STIs, yeast infections or UTIs. But of course, it’s my five year anniversary and I have been hit with a severe fucking UTI.

G said this was just me being punished for all that extramarital sex. She’s probably right – god is likely a vindictive bitch.

Luckily, Spouse finally put his degree to use and called in an antibiotic for me.

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Anniversary

Soundtrack

A little over a year ago, I found myself in hysterical tears on the steps of a church in Streeterville, Chicago.

It was a month into Spouse’s residency and I had never felt so alone in my life. I was in a new city, trying to figure out the basics and Spouse was married to the hospital. We had intended to go grocery shopping together, but as was so common, he was asleep before 8 PM and I was left to go it out alone.

Before leaving, before he fell asleep, I had expressed a need for some emotional reassurance, some closeness and words or actions of solidarity. He couldn’t give them to me. I know he wanted to. And that fact made it harder and more painful. So I got out the grocery cart, took it down the elevator and began the 15 minute walk to the store as he fell asleep and began to snore in our new, king sized bed.

While I walked, I called my big brother, J. J has always been there for me, fully and without judgment. This is when I fell apart. Somewhere en route I had to stop because I was crying so hard. I tucked up into the church steps, hoping darkness would conceal me a little bit on the busy streets. At least three people stopped to be sure I was OK. Including the doorman from across the street, who brought me tissues. I suppose being on a church’s steps made it seem like a very different kind of breakdown.

I thought of this tonight as I walked a similar route, this time headed back to the el after my weekly therapy session. You see, tomorrow is Spouse and my 5th wedding anniversary. Or, I guess it would be. Do you stop counting after you decide the marriage is over?

I cried, albeit not as hysterically as a year ago, all the way home. There is actually something really beautiful about walking around the city, listening to music, and crying. Now I’m sitting on my front porch, still teary eyes, but calmer.

When I tell people our marriage is over, they often ask if I will stay in Chicago. Outwardly, there is nothing keeping me here. I work remotely, after all. I could do my job from anywhere in the US and none of my family or closest friends are here.

But the truth is, I have built a life here. In only a short time and under relatively traumatic circumstances, I have grown into this city. I have an incredible roommate, a growing group of girlfriends and a kooky little dog. I have had more new experiences in the last year than I thought I even wanted. I have had tastes of love, companionship, friendship and great sex with men and women across the north side and am fostering the beginnings of more. I know how to live in this city. I can get around and enjoy myself and I know there are opportunities for me to do anything I want here. And I’m really proud of that.

Last year, our anniversary fell on the night before residency began. We got dressed up and ate at a nearby Italian joint, taking a moment to pause about getting here and what beginning this life would mean. At that moment, we still had a fair amount of blind hope, firm denial and the only thing still true this year: a lot of love for each other.

This is not how I expected to spend my fifth anniversary. But, it’s a lovely night. A warm wind is pulling my hair across my face and the tears are gently rolling now. Last year these tears were futile and frustrated, broken and tragic. This year, the tears are leading me somewhere.

 

Going Inside

Knowing your marriage is over and feeling that your marriage is over are two very different things. In some ways, I have been “making up for lost time” over the past 8 months since Spouse and I separated. Tons of dating, tons of sex, new friends, new adventures, etc. But the pace at which I was going was unsustainable. So, the day after I finished checking the last big box on my sexual wish list, I realized it was time to slow down and do some feeling.

The weeks since have been a mixture of grief and peace, new hope and despair. I have not once questioned the decision to end my marriage, but the fact that it’s the right thing doesn’t make it an easy thing. We’re lucky in that the dissolution of our marriage has been respectful, kind, honest and mutually decided upon. But there is still hurt and pain and disappointment.

There are so many ways to understand what happened or didn’t happen. I can tell myself and others the story of my marriage in a million different iterations and they’d all be true. But trying to comprehend such a thing is both worthwhile and futile.

So I’ve retreated some. I abruptly stopped maintaining existing relationships with men, deciding that the important ones would continue to seek me out. I reasoned that just because I could sustain all of these casual relationships doesn’t mean that I should. And right when I decided that I felt at once relief and sadness and very quickly, exhaustion set in.

Having healed from one trauma before and also believing that life is nothing but a slew of traumas, I know that it isn’t a consistent upward trend. Healing comes in fits and starts and this is no different. Some days I believe the darkness is largely behind me and other days I feel as though I’ve only just begun letting it in.

But one thing is for sure, I am showing up. I am paying attention and I am letting myself feel what must be felt. There are still multiple men around, there is even a new one that I find really promising. But most nights I stay in with S and M watching Gilmore Girls and sewing. This is a moment for turning inward and I intend to embrace it fully.

I truly believe I can at once close off the borders to my body and my heart for healing purposes and keep them permeable enough to consider myself open to new and deep love. We shall see.

 

Being a Unicorn: Adventures in Emotional Tourism

In the world of kink, Unicorn is a label prescribed to people, mostly women, who enjoy or even prefer being the third in a sexual or romantic endeavor with a hetero couple. We’re called unicorns because we’re hard to find and therefore very special. When I first began my sexual exploration, I may not have described myself this way. But now, I embrace the term fully.

I don’t think that it is my defining characteristic as a person, even if we’re speaking strictly sexually. But over the last few months I have been surprised at how much I loved being the third. I have had a half a dozen threesomes with different heterosexual committed couples and each experience has been unique and beautiful. For a few hours, you get to step inside someone else’s relationship. You feel the love they have for one another in a really safe way.

When I told Spouse about this – yes, I tell him about my sexual exploits and he loves hearing – he called it emotional tourism. And I think that’s right. You get to visit a relationship, feel and enjoy and be involved in their dynamic for a short time, but you don’t have to move there. You can even visit frequently, but it isn’t your home. For me, at this moment in my life, that has been really beautiful.

I have also been lucky in never having found myself in a situation where one partner had been more or less coerced into the experience. In all cases, each partner was invested in my involvement.

Sexually, it was a wild adventure. So many hands and bodies. It can be a bit overwhelming. One of the hottest things is when a the male part of a couple teaches me how to give his woman an orgasm. Because I have not been with women outside of these experiences, I have no idea what to do with a pussy. But, I can follow instructions! And it is wildly fulfilling to give someone that intense pleasure.

Participating in threesomes, especially the experiences with women, taught me something else about sex and pleasure: it’s not hard to be “good” at sex, all you have to do is care about giving pleasure to the other person. I don’t walk around thinking about sex with women the way I do with men, but I really enjoy pleasuring women in bed because I enjoy pleasing women and people in general. It’s like giving a gift.

Each couple I was with did a really good job at making me feel both wanted and safe. I knew that I could consent or withdraw consent at any idea. This is an important dynamic when it’s essentially 2 on 1. I think I also did a really good job giving both parties in each couple equal attention. I knew that if I was in a couple and we invited a third, I would hate for that person to give one of us more attention than the other, so I tried to stay cognizant of that. It’s pretty easy really, you can always have at least a hand or something on each person.

In each case, I was careful to have a pretty detailed conversation in advance about what each person found compelling in this situation. I wanted to know if one person wanted to watch the other with me, or if they had a specific thing in mind, or a specific thing they didn’t want to do. These conversations are awkward at first, but get easier and are ultimately extremely necessary to the success of a multi-person sexual experience, in my opinion.

The other aspect that made these past few threesomes more like tourism was that it was very clear that this was a sexual experience, we weren’t trying to date one another. So at the base of it all, it’s a true friends-with-benefits situation.

I’m not longer on the hunt for new threesomes, but I’ll stay open to the idea, and will absolutely repeat with some of the couples I’ve been with.

Checking off my sexual wish list

About three years into my marriage, when the sex had all but stopped, I remember thinking “this is just what happens in a long term relationship”. Another few years of that and I couldn’t accept that as truth. I couldn’t accept is as my truth, anyway. So once Spouse and I finally separated and my months with Barista had come to a close, I began embarking on a something of a Rumspringa.

Beyond opening myself up to new romantic possibilities, like non monogamy, I opened up to new sexual possibilities. There were days where I felt like a 13-yr-old boy, the only thing on my mind was how, when and with whom I would secure my next orgasm.

I bought toys and branched out in the porn I watched. I sexted constantly, exchanging naughty words and (mostly) faceless sexy pics with randoms and people I knew alike. I found sexting to be an extremely exciting and also safe way to try new things. I let myself play with being submissive in bed this way, setting scenes of bondage and power play. I imagined multi-person experiences and public sex and other scenarios I knew I was unlikely to ever end up in.

I found that, for me, sex is a multi-person experience. I can masturbate to porn or a mental image, to be sure. But I so prefer to at least have another person on the other end of the phone. Just the idea that someone knows I’m touching myself and thinking of them is incredibly exciting to me.

In real life, I had a lot of firsts as well. I gave my first blow job to completion – yes, I was a 26-yr-old who had never given a blow job to completion – and literally spit the cum up on the dude’s shirt and laughed. Not my finest moment. I tried deep throating and loved it, gave a few foot jobs, also very fun. I experimented with anal play and learned I’m very into it and then had anal sex for the first time soon after! I participated in a handful of ffm threesomes, which are something of a favorite of mine. Had two mmf threesomes. Let myself be tied up a handful of times. Lots of spanking, a little light choking and lots of verbal power play. As it turns out, I am very into being called a “good girl”. I fucked older men, married men (only ones who were consensually open), men and women. All in all, there have been about 25 new people in my pants over the last 6 months.

My foray into the world of mellow kink culminated in an evening of double penetration, one dick in my pussy and one in my ass. LOVED IT.

But the strangest thing happened. I woke up the next morning feeling like I’d accomplished everything on my sexual wish list. I had been pursuing new and frequent sexual experiences in an almost manic way and all of the sudden, I felt ready to stop. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t regret anything I tried. In fact, I think I am likely to repeat most of it. But the fervency with which I chased those experiences left me about a month ago.