Non-Monogamy & My New Marriage: What I Learned (& Where I Stand)

(Note: This is the third installment in my non-monogamy series. Read the first & second.)

I sat curled onto Jonathan’s lap, tears clouding my vision as waves of emotion washed over me. I couldn’t stop sobbing.

“Why are you crying, honey?” Jonathan consoled me softly.

I kept insisting that I didn’t know what was wrong, that I was just glad to be home, that it was such a long day. But I did know. I was confused. Terribly, gut-wrenchingly, mindfucked & confused.

I can’t even begin to describe the perplexity I felt when trying to pursue another knowing my husband was at home. Consenting to all of this, of course, but still at home. It was the most disorienting situation I had ever been in, & throughout the date I could feel myself trying to squirm my way out of it, either by running or retreating.

But I kept repeating to myself, Feel this fear; feel this disorientation. Lean into it. If this is what you want, Ev’Yan, you must lean into it.

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Non-Monogamy & My New Marriage: A Date

(Note: This is the second installment in my non-monogamy series. Read the first.)

I came home with a stupid smile on my face, a bag of groceries hanging from one shoulder. Jonathan greeted me with beaming eyes.

“Well?” he said in anticipation.
“I did it!” I exclaimed. “I asked her out!”

He gave me a high five, then a strong, congratulatory hug.

“I’m so proud of you, honey,” he said lovingly into my hair. “So what happens next?”
“I guess we’re going out on a date. . .”

To speak this truth aloud conjured up a bit of queasiness again. I started to become doubtful.

But he calmed me down & told me everything was going to be alright. Then, he gave me dating advice.

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Non-Monogamy & My New Marriage: An Experiment

We started playing with the idea of seeing people outside of our relationship last year. It followed directly after I came out.

We decided mutually that non-monogamy was something worth exploring, simply because we wanted to explore it. It was my personal desires that fueled this exploration. He really didn’t have any intention to start something; he was busy enough already. But I was on a mission to becoming a sexual liberationist & I craved to actualize my curiosity.

So, we decided to experiment. (And I don’t think I even need to elaborate on how much of a paradox┬áthis all was.)

First, boundaries were set.

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The Art of Orgasmic Meditation: pt. ii

(Note: This is a follow-up to this post.)

The first time I OMed, I was hyper aware of the sunlight filtering in through the windows of the bedroom. It seemed to be beaming directly onto the space between my butterflied-open legs: my vulva.

I remember thinking it ironic that Portland is relatively dreary around this time of the year, & on the one day that I needed some forgiving, dismal cloud cover the sky was perpetually bright.

I looked up at the ceiling, feeling as though I was moments away from being given a gynecological exam. I was so exposed, so vulnerable.

“Are you ready to begin?” he asked. His voice was gentle, right above the softest whisper, yet it cut into my thoughts like piece of jagged glass.

I swallowed & took in a deep breath. “I think so,” I replied nervously, & then in the back of my mind I thought, How can one prepare for something they’re not sure they fully understand?

“Okay,” he said, his voice still gentle. “I’m going to stroke you now.”

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