Polyamorous - Polyamory (from Greek πολύ poly, "many, several", and Latin amor, "love") is the practice of, or desire for, intimate relationships with more than one partner, with the informed consent of all partners involved. It has been described as "consensual, ethical, and responsible non-monogamy".
Serial dating prepared me for life as a whore. I couldn’t imagine beginning a career in prostitution back in my twenties or thirties. I wasn’t ready at these stages in life to turn my back on how I was raised. People and family and unexpected twists and turns of life mold you into someone else when you arrive at forty. As I slid down the backside of forty I decided I should at least experiment with girl on girl and threesomes to build my courage. You know. They say you should be careful while cruising the internet. You never know who you’ll meet. That was what I was hoping for. I wanted to meet strange people and see life from their perspectives. I began dating men I met on Craigslist and various dating sites. I wanted good sex. I wanted adventure and spontaneity. Sleeping around became my norm. I figured that it was easier to date with no expectations than sitting and chit chatting over what we both do and it never going anywhere. I didn’t really want a husband. So, this was easy.
One day I met a man online named Kevin. He lived part time in New Orleans and part time in California. Not to downplay what he did, but he was a former “suit” that really wanted to be a hippie and help the homeless rather than earn a lot of money. However, there was something about what he was doing that seemed insincere. A lot of people made money off of New Orlean’s reconstruction after Katrina. So, I took this as a sign that he really didn’t love New Orleans the way she deserves and that, in my mind, was a fatal first blow for our fledging relationship. He was in New Orleans and I in another when he contacted me on a dating site and asked if we could meet. For the first meeting we met halfway. He was poly amorous and needed a lot of reinforcement from many women to feel whole. We didn’t discuss that very much on our first date. I just figured this out as we were talking because he made sure that I understood he saw other women habitually.
I was drawn to him because he stares. He stares in his pictures and in person. He was foreign to me. I had never dated anyone from the West Coast. He was older than me and lived a rather minimalist existence, He wore tattered clothing and looked a little like Kevin Costner. Just a little. He had three children with whom he shared a strained relationship. He had bailed on them when they were young and lived like a rambling man. He was living with a smart woman who was in her twenties. He was in his early fifties. He thought by having her in his life he was a stud. In all actuality, he was a stud with or without her. Tantric sex is what he offered me. We made love all night long in a shabby little motel in McComb, MS. Now that I look back on his technique I’m awed by his stamina. I thought to myself that this guy needs to fuck like a drunk needs to drink. At best our times together were sexually charged and left us both satisfied. At worst, I spent a lot of time alone on some of our dates as he was with me for part of the day and with another woman that night. I can never decide if he made me feel lonely on purpose or if he just didn’t care how I felt. No matter. I wasn’t that interested in him for the long haul as I had already decided that being on my own was probably best for me. However, I had hoped that he wanted to spend more time with me when we were together. Oh well. At least I was able to visit him in New Orleans here and there. New Orleans was always good to me. I decided that Nola would soothe me after a long day of delicious sex and keep me company after dark when he’d left me. It’s rather serendipitous that we did meet. We both agreed that we had an irresistible pull towards each other and an undeniable chemistry. Also, I believe meeting him gave me some insight into what life in New Orleans would be like. After all, New Orleans was always the goal and I was keeping my eye on the prize and nursing my pride on the sly.
The last time we were together was in New Orleans. We stayed in a beautiful bed and breakfast on Prytania Street. I had never spent any time in the Lower Garden District. I wanted to enjoy the beauty of this lovely home with him, but unfortunately, he spent the majority of our time on the phone with his “main squeeze” while I walked around the neighborhood waiting for our date to start. She had some misgivings about his dating me. He never said any more than that and I didn’t press him. So, I took in the sites and secretly mused how I could become a part of the scenery. I walked around Coliseum Square Park and admired the architecture of homes that were meticulously restored and some that needed a complete restoration. A friend once told me that New Orleans has a “shabby grandeur” you can’t find anywhere else. I felt as if I belonged here and I do believe I fell in love with this side of the city as my lover talked his girlfriend into accepting me as one of the girls. Little did he know that I was never going to be one of his girls. I played along because I didn’t know much about being poly other than it seemed like the one who wants it the most benefits and the rest of us are left with hurt feelings. Two hours went by and he didn’t text me to come back upstairs to our room. I knew this would be our last date and kept walking until I noticed a statue of a woman blowing a trumpet. The plaque attached said that Terpsichore is her name. The street was named for her. In Greek mythology, she is the muse of music, theater, and dance. She was good company for me when I was feeling lonely and confused. I believe she was a sign for me to head in a new direction. I went on to move to New Orleans and incidentally, I’ve had two incall locations on Terpsichore since 2015. Somehow I knew on that lonely reflective night, as my part-time lover lied to his girlfriend, I belonged here within the shadows of the mossy oaks. As I started on my walk again I turned back towards this friendly muse and said “hello neighbor.”
