So, since October, I’ve been in a relationship. It is a nontraditional relationship and in some ways it’s unhealthy, but it makes sense to us.
Last night, things got out of hand, as they often do. We got into a huge argument, which became physical, which turned into sex. Truly amazing sex, as a matter of fact.
I worry a little about what will happen when we can’t work out our issues in bed. That time is coming… Within the next two weeks if not before. The exclusive monogamous relationship we have had is changing as he has started a relationship with someone who lives about two thousand miles away. She does not know about me.
Rather, she does not know the truth about me.
Our relationship is sort of secret and sort of not. It’s a secret, now, that we keep from people we’re dating so as to not destabilize those relationships. We love each other very much, but we long ago accepted that we’re romantically incompatible.
The attraction is strong, which is one of the reasons he fights with me. He’s an asshole, which is one of the reasons I fight with him.
Almost all of our friends know. We dated openly last Fall and we do claim the other as a partner if asked, but we do not volunteer the information. Except when we do.
FM loves to tell people one of our more infamous moments in public. He’d tried to meet me for weeks, if not months (though I did not know it). We were often in the same place and yet never connected until we met at YM’s birthday party. He was attractive and attentive and from that moment on, he contacted me daily and pursued me ardently. The infamous moment happened at a huge party when he put his hand on my ass to tell me why he couldn’t date me.
He loves this story, as do I, and he tells it when people ask us how we met.
And they often ask.
They find FM fascinating. They find me interesting. They are obsessed with how two people so completely different could be so close.
In bed, after I cohosted a party for him, managed from dinner until 2 am, after we’d argued in a cab, during which I probably told him to get the eff out of my house, after we argued outside, then inside, each of us shoving the other (and he is 7 inches taller and outweighs me by at least 40 pounds at the moment), me hurting myself (or he hurt me, as I dislocated my knuckle when he pushed my finger away), he held me in his arms and told me that he loved me and hated me. And I told him I loved and hated him.
Again, it didn’t start that way. It was late and he was already ready for bed and I was in my favorite cocktail dress and strapless bra. I laid down next to him, facing away from him, in pain (with a gel pack strapped to my swollen finger), and he beckoned me to lay in his arms. He kissed my forehead and my cheek while telling me how much he loved me … and hated me.
We unzipped my dress as I did not want to destroy it, but I was still not on the path to sleeping with him until he started to kiss me with as much tenderness as he’d been aggressive before.
My emotional life with FM is as complicated as the rest of our relationship. At this moment, on a Sunday evening, FM is sitting downstairs with PRX, the ex-girlfriend of the man I dated for a few months at the start of the year PR.
He has an enormous crush on her, which I am mostly okay with. I am fine with him being in relationships with other people, but it’s awkward that it’s PRX as we have a complicated history … I dated her ex-PR, who is sort of her BFD, she went out on three dates with LP between the time I met him and the time I dated him 8 months later.
So, we love and hate each other, quite passionately. It’s not sustainable, but for now, it works.