Please come see me at That’s What Sadie Said!

We decided today that our marriage is over. We will begin divorce proceedings after the holidays.

That is such an odd thing to type in the text space of this blog. It feels terribly surreal, as if someone else is controlling my fingers as I type. I didn’t even know what a blog was just four years ago, and now here I sit with over over 900 posts and close to 8,000 comments in my Dashboard.

Who’d have ever known?

Certainly not me. But what do I know, I didn’t think I’d ever get divorced. I have always assumed that we would be married until one of us died.

But that is not the case, and lest you think our marriage’s demise is as a result of our openness or my writing about it here or in my book … it is not. There are reasons far and wide for this transition, none of which I am at liberty to share nor inclined to even if I were.

And so I will say goodbye. This blog has officially become irrelevant. Incongruous. Discordant.

However, please know that it is likely you haven’t seen or heard the last of me. I am a writer, after all. I imagine I will pop up here and there around the web, and who knows? Maybe one of these days I’ll co-opt another slice of cyberspace about something else that interests me.

Is there anything besides sex and relationships that interest me? Hmmmm… I’d have to mull that one over a bit.

I will be leaving the blog up, for now anyway, because I think it serves as a resource for some people looking for information about open relationships. And remember, just because this particular open relationship didn’t work doesn’t mean that they can’t work. It only means that this one didn’t.

Sometimes shit just doesn’t work.

So, until then, please feel free to track me down on Facebook, on Twitter, hanging ’round my BedPost Confessions shows, over on my open relationship consulting site, or simply send me an email. I’d love to hear from you, to keep in touch with those who’ve been stopping by regularly, and to continue making new friends.

Because that is what it’s all about, isn’t it?

Adieu!

Love,
Sadie

Confessions are fascinating offerings, aren’t they? We take our innermost thoughts and perhaps secrets, very slices of our souls, and give them away for others to take, judge, identify with, relate to, misconstrue, understand, be flatly against or wholly believe in –or somewhere in between- and be entertained, influenced and even, if we are lucky, educated by.

I have told many a confession here and in other places ‘round the web and it has certainly been interesting seeing my confessions evolve – through strings of stories, tales of encounters and situations, around thoughts that surround them, interweaved with lessons I’ve learned… and even a few that were probably missed. I’ve enjoyed every bit of sharing my thoughts and experiences here, even when I didn’t love the circumstances or situations that lead to my expressions of them.

And isn’t that what confessing is all about after all? Putting out there for at least one other person to hear so that we can release a piece of ourselves – leveling, unifying, communicating, creating a connection of some sort so that we don’t feel as if we are alone in it – whatever it may be. Chances are if we have had a thought or experience, someone else has had a similar one.

I confess that I have loved discovering that I’m not alone out there in the infinitely vast landscape that is life. It’s made me feel secure, like a pillow across my lap while I watch TV. Confident like a brand-new pair of well-fitting jeans. Contented as a young child in her mother’s lap.

I also confess that I am in the midst of what feels like, thus far, the most arduous and overwhelming thing I have ever experienced.

He moved out this weekend, my husband of 15 years. Our daughter helped him pack up some of his belongings and install his provisions into his new apartment. They shopped for new home items together, she excitedly helped him set up his bed and whateverelse, and together they carved out a special space for her. She will rotate between us weekly and throughout this entire process she has done very, very well.

I however, have been confronted by the abject aloneness of finalizing a departure from someone who has functioned as so much a part of me for so very long. Coming home yesterday to a half empty closet and a reminder of what was sent me absolutely reeling with dread and overwhelm… and sadness.

But I will work through these bits of challenge. It’s what we do, isn’t it? We take what comes our way in the manner we know how. I can complain and cry or I can suck it up and move forward. For the time being, I suppose I will do some of both. In the interest of balance and all that. I will just have to try to remember during the particularly difficult parts that I’ve designed it this way. I asked for what I wanted, what I needed – space for each of us to figure some things out – and I got exactly that.

So, really, I can’t complain. Besides, I still have hope that this thing will work out between us.

And the wonderful thing about hope is that it can spur us toward action – something that relationships must fully and steadily encompass in order for them to be sustainable, but which is often tragically forgotten.

So, here’s to hope, to more confessions… and to whatever else will be.

Last night’s casual grab of the back of my neck by a good friend sent surprise shiver whispers inside the remote and quiet depths of me, goose bumps skin-surfing my entire body, shoulders scrunching toward my ears in delight.

Oh, and desire.

For more. Of that.

For the remainder of the evening, I stood there wondering – Is it too much to ask for someone to do exactly that? Just hold my hair, grasp it tightly in your thick, rough hewn fingers right there at its root where the hairline meets the nape of my neck and pull it, gently, and hold, hold, hold please, for just a little a while, then pull again, upwards this time and more forcefully until my heels and then toes slowly and desperately begin to peel off the floor, my soles stuffed full of intention and fixation, teeming with urgency and craving and lust and… hope? Can I hope that someday soon this particular little base, dirty desire will be fulfilled without me having to ask, to hope… to yearn? Is this yearning, which threatens wickedly to become an absolute fucking necessity, this yearning to be suspended by my hair in someone’s strong and impassioned fingers, is this more a mark of loneliness or of resolve? Resolve to find someone that can meet such a very simple need.

Like the shiver that begins its journey on the outer edge of my thigh and then creeps serenely down the length of my leg, I am quite obviously in a state of flux. And I believe, from inside the quiet depths of me, that the possibility of at least temporary grounding lives inside an integral and sweet spot inside my feet-soles.

And with their rise, so too will I.

Our entire lives together, twenty-seven years and counting, has been, we realized, a series of events where we’ve come together and then parted our separate ways, so that we might find ourselves; and eventually, find each other once again. This marriage has been the longest stretch of togetherness thus far, and just as we arrive at the fated fifteen year mark, Scott and I are making the difficult but very important decision to continue along the lines of the pattern we’ve established…

And once again, part ways.

Will this be forever? Who knows. I certainly don’t. All I know is what I know – I have committed to releasing any expectations, any attachment to outcome, and all the anger that has been threatening, balefully, to accumulate as a result of these expectations and attachments; I will not blame. I will take responsibility for my part in it.

I am coming to understand implicitly that separating is the only possible solution for any growth and all shifts that must occur in order for us to both live lives that are fulfilling. Be that separately or together. And I have become very clear that the only person that I am permitted to insist live in integrity, live with a commitment to growth, and operate in honesty and with respect towards others… is me.

It’s up to me.

And so I leave for the desert tonight. For Black Rock city and possibility. And in the two weeks that I am gone, I will begin creating the life that I know is here, the one that is waiting, patiently, for me to become aware of its presence.

And I will allow this genesis to take me.

Completely.

Are you in the Austin area?

If you are in the Austin area, and if you like really yummy Indian food and small gatherings over intense yet sparkly conversation and, ummm…. ME, you are invited to join the fun!

Go here for more details and to sign up.

Naan bread, curries and spicy chutney awaits.

Sure, euphemize these foodstuffs if you feel so inclined.

I’ll just be over here noshin’…

I was interviewed here by Sassy Cat on BlogTalk Radio. Have a listen, won’t you?

Recently, Scott and I revisited the guidelines that we agreed upon when we first opened our marriage, thinking we’d make some revisions.

But instead, we chucked them all by the wayside.

I think the rules served their purpose, as a framework of sorts so that we could have something to guide us, keep us in check… and in line. But that was ultimately the problem with the rules, they confined us more so than we’d already been in our monogamous marriage. The restrictions only helped perpetuate the control we’d exerted upon each other without even realizing it – by subscribing to the socially approved tenet of monogamy.

So when we sat down recently and discussed revising them to account for where we are today, five an a half years into the open part of our marriage, we decided that it was ultimately futile. Because rules, guidelines, restrictions, whateveryouwanttocallthem, aren’t something that marriages (or any long-term relationships) really thrive under. In fact, I would venture to guess that they do exactly the opposite.

One of the mistakes we made (and others do, too) is operating under the assumption that opening a relationship will be “fun”.

Oh, this will be so much fun, we are going to go on dates and play and have sex with different people! Wheeeee!

Certainly this is part of it, but it is really only a small piece. But we have these blinders on that keep us from understanding the reality and the gravity of opening up a relationship. The blinders let us see only nakedness and playfulness and endorphin rushes and orgasms. And what they shield from our view? That those that we become involved with are people. People with expectations and needs and issues and … feelings.

We often disregard that those on the other ends of the openness can be hurt by us if we aren’t careful about how we behave.

But we’ve gotten caught up in the fun of it, and in so doing, we’ve only considered us in the situation, Won’t this be fun, honey, for me to watch you fuck another guy? and in the process we’ve completely forgotten that the other guy might have some attachment or belief or, god forbid, feeling about his role in our fun.

And I realized that our rules reflected this perfectly. It was all about us, and it was us thinking that by drafting the guidelines we would manage things just perfectly. But we could have never predicted any outcome even though we attempted in vain to do exactly that by drawing explicit boundaries (which I do think served an important purpose at the time). But there are a couple of them that, knowing what I know now, I would strike from the initial list – Each of us has Veto Power, and Fall in love, break it off.

Because while I get that veto power gives each partner a sense of control over the scenario – say a wife doesn’t like the chick her husband is fucking – it’s not ultimately her place to make that decision for her husband. That whole, We can’t control other people, only ourselves credo applies nicely here. And trying to control our partner inside an open relationship? That’s a recipe for a back-firing disaster (believe me, I know). And exercising veto power is a way to manipulate and control one’s partner. And this? Well this is monogamous behavior, monogamous thinking, and that sort of thinking doesn’t fit within the open relationship paradigm. Our partners are not ours to control. Hell, they aren’t even ours at all. Open truly means open in this sense – open to allowing our partners the possibility to navigate their outside relationships without our interference.

It’s a difficult concept to wrap one’s head around, much less embrace, but it is, I believe, paramount to the success of an open relationship.

And yes, the notion of one’s partner falling in love with someone else might seem scary, in fact it’s something that people ask me a lot – Do you think Scott is in LOVE with Sirena??? To which I always reply, Oh, yeah, they’re totally and over the moon in love with each other but that doesn’t have anything to do with me. And that’s because it doesn’t. There is no point in being open unless we are also open to the possibility of ourselves or our partner falling in love with someone else. No point whatsoever. Because the other people on the other ends of our open relationships? The one’s we are fucking around with for the fun of it? Yep… they have feelings. And those feelings might very well co-mingle with our feelings, since ya know, we’ve got ‘em too, and us people are social creatures who bond inexplicably over situations far less intense and intimate than joining genitals with each other.

And, ultimately, that’s okay. It really is. Just as long as we keep one foot planted firmly in reality and remember that those feelings, as intense as they may be, are simply that – feelings. They are not actions, they are not behavior, they do not pay the bills, they don’t care for the kids, nor do they erase the connection or the life or the memories that we have created with our long-term partners. Our feelings are, in a sense, not real.

Yet they are real all the same.

And this is why Scott and I threw out all the rules and decided to just be. … be with each other and allow the space for our relationship to be what it is. To let him be who he is with Sirena and me be with whomever else might come along. And to, instead, commit to each day as it comes and each problem as it arises with the respect and tenacity we’ve given each other up until now.

Because he is my partner. And that’s what partners do.

My expedition to Burning Man, that colossal mecca of community and self expression, really can’t come soon enough.

It’s not that I am unhappy or unfulfilled or un-anything for that matter. It’s just that my spirit is craving some completely dedicated Sadie time. Some time to spend with a good friend as we trek towards the desert from Texas in an RV towing a giant, drivable Tarantula. Some time to witness the the beauty of temporary art. Some time to get hot and dusty while wearing body glitter and little else. Some time to take part in something so real that at times it doesn’t feel so. Some time to reflect, sit, play, dance, screw, ride a bicycle, make new friends, reconnect with old ones… laugh. Cry.

All for no reason at all.

Yeah, I am ready.

Take me to Black Rock City, drop me in the middle of the playa where I may burn a deep, impenetrable hole in the desert floor, shaped like my soul, where I can bury myself and my psychic passengers while I search for what else can be.

Equity.

Conceptually, equity is the satisfaction of getting back from a relationship what you’ve invested in it. It’s an energetic and abstract sort of exchange in theory. But in relationships, out here in the real world, especially in marriages where there are kids and other responsibilities, equity is the tangible and perceived give and take, the allowances and sharing of time, activities, duties and chores – If husband is golfing twice a week and wife stays home with the kids, then wife might negotiate doing her own thing a couple of times a week, too. If husband takes out the trash and mows the lawn, wife does the dishes and picks up the toys form the living room. Or vice versa depending on the familial roles.

Equity.

It extends to sexual, intimate and emotional satisfaction. So if wife is getting regular oral sex from Hubby but Hubby isn’t getting blow jobs from her (although he would really like a blow job every once in a while) then the relationship’s equity is off balance.

But it can’t be all equitable all the time. The main goal, I believe anyway, is to strive for a semblance of balance. Where the payouts and rewards occur over a period of time.

In my own relationship with Scott, we have things pretty balanced in our day-to-day activities. He does the dishes and I take out the trash. And I sort and wash the laundry and he folds it. It’s pretty balanced with regards to our outside activities,too. For instance, he’s taking a trip this weekend to the San Francisco Bay Area without me, and I am taking one at the end of the month without him (Burning Man, baby!) Although I’ll be gone a lot longer than he will be (ten days compared to his four) the balance is offset by the many overnights and handful of weekends he has spent away from me in the last year.

Time he spent with Sirena.

In fact, if you added all of his previous nights away to the accrued nights of his upcoming trip, the balance would still tip strongly in his favor. But, it will all get leveled out eventually as I begin traveling more with upcoming BedPost Confessions road shows. And then in between my travels he will continue to rack up more overnights with Sirena.

Equity. It will all balance out eventually.

But when the balance is off, like really off, and there appears to be no leveling in sight, then things get a little squicky. Feelings get hurt. And when feelings get hurt, distress ensues. And when under emotional distress, what do people sometimes do? They retaliate.

For the last year, Scott and Sirena have been deeply mired inside the lustful force of New Relationship Energy. NRE is a wonderful by-product of those stupendous, connective, burgeoning relationships. NRE is what furthers the experience, keeps its couples coming back for more, by flooding our brains with feel-good chemicals that are nothing if not motherfucking addictive.

I wrote about NRE the last time I was in it, here. It was over a year ago. A year and three months to be exact.

But I have not had a New Relationship Energy experience to parallel Scott and Sirena’s since I was involved with Andrew.

And Andrew? He was a long time ago.

This last year I have been extremely busy getting my book finished and published, working towards my degree, parenting, and helping to propel BedPost Confessions towards its goal as a sex-positive, education and entertainment enterprise. I haven’t had time for a relationship, nor have I really wanted one. I have, in fact, in many ways been grateful that Scott has had Sirena, because their relationship took some of the burden off of me. I didn’t have to be Scott’s sex-goddess. I could be simply, his wife. And that was a real relief.

But in the process, inequity  had become a prevailing theme. On his nights (and days) with her, where he could leave his life behind for a while and have sex, lots and lots of awesome sex with someone he loves deeply, I would be home, invariably working. Or being mom to our daughter who is on summer break. Or doing homework.

And so now that my degree procurement is on the horizon (March!), my book is published, our daughter is about to begin middle school, and BedPost Confessions is beginning to host shows in other cities, I am realizing that this type of inequity just doesn’t work for me any longer.

I want what Scott has.

And so I am in the process of finding it. In fact, I tiptoed pretty fucking enthusiastically through what might very well be the field of NRE last night during my date with a cute boy who wants something similar to what I want. And I came home high as a kite on that energy and woke up bright and early to it this morning, even. But the fucked up thing? I found myself wanting to throw my excitement in Scott’s face. Because I had gone for so long without such intimacy. And there is no intimacy quite like those first discoveries of how your hands fit and your lips feel against each others’, as you move together in lustful, rhythmic sync.

The inequity had distressed me.

Terribly.

And until this morning, I hadn’t even realized the extent that it had.

But I refrained from hurling intentionally hurtful anecdotes about my evening to Scott. Instead I spoke the truth. Instead I told Scott that I was battling this desire to make up for all the inequity by  being childishly competitive – Look what a good evening I had while you were stuck at home watching bad television.

And he listened intently and heard every word.

And he understood.

Can you guess what his understanding did?

It made things equitable once again.

Success.