My Man Likes When Other Men Have Sex With Me, As Long As They Don't Tie Me Up
And I am not happy about it.
Kaspars Grinvalds / Shutterstock It is probably something unique to those in open relationships that although you have permission from your spouse to have sex with other people, they still sometimes get in the way of said having sex with other people.
(Hey, Sweetie. You might want to skip this article. We’ve talked about it and resolved it, and everything is cool. And I still wanted to write about the experience.)
I recently opened an OkCupid profile and — after the flood of messages from straight cis guys that consisted mostly of variations on the words "Hey" and "’Sup" — applied limits so it can only be seen by bisexuals, queer, genderqueer, or trans people.
I was hoping to find some guys to date, but I haven’t got the time or patience right now to do the necessary wading through the bulk responses.
I did, however, get a message from a trans guy who seemed like a good match.
He understood the reference in my username, we were really highly matched through the OkCupid algorithm, and he was really cute. Really cute.
We chatted back and forth through the website, then moved to email so I could send some pics other than my profile photo. We clicked really well and were extremely compatible with a lot of our likes and interests.
Particularly in a way that would end up being the problem: he is kinky, and he is a Dom.
"Perfect!," I thought. "My sweetie isn’t into dominating me, yet I like it. He can outsource that as Dan Savage suggests for partners who aren’t into the same kinks as their partners."
We continued to have chatty emails almost every day. I got all excited and brought up some of the details with my sweetie.
His support and enthusiasm for this potential new guy immediately disappeared.
Not only is he not okay with dominating me himself, but he’s also not okay with ANY man dominating me. A woman, fine, but not a man.
There are varied and complicated issues at play with his feelings about this, which I understand and respect. He can’t help the experiences he’s had with male aggression and violence, and he can’t help his feelings.
But to me, this seemed patently unfair.
We discussed it at length and broke it down as much as possible, but neither of us could truly make the other understand our disparate points of view.
I felt like there was a certain amount of caveman, chest-beating, “Woman is MINE!” stuff going on, and I was hurt and angry. I’m a feminist, and I am no one’s property.
But I am also a loving wife, and if we’re going to make this non-monogamy thing work, I have to respect his boundaries, much like I expect him to respect my boundaries.
And I know that there is a lot more than just the caveman-brain at play here, despite the fact that I’m rankling at the invisible bonds I feel put upon me.
So I wrote to my new friend and explained how things were, thinking there would still be plenty of fun stuff we could do ...
And he dumped me.
He was not interested in playing by some other guy’s rules, and not that interested in vanilla sex — even though I’m "really kind, engaging, smart, and hot."
Sigh. So I spent a morning crying because I’m ridiculous and brand-new to online dating and I haven’t developed the tough shell required for the quick connect/disconnect that happens (and I really liked him! *whine*).
A poly friend said that any potential partner who doesn’t respect the primary’s limits isn’t a good potential partner, so I probably dodged a bullet there.
But it still sucks.
I know there are other smart, fun, hot guys out there, and maybe a wonderful female domme will come my way.
I’m just gonna have to wade through a sea of “‘Sup” to get there.
Kat Stark is a writer, podcaster and audiobook narrator for Cooper S Beckett's novels A Life Less Monogamous and Approaching the Swingularity. Their first book, Yelling In Pasties: The Wet Coast Confessions of an Anxious Slut is available on Amazon. Keep up with her website On The Wet Coast.