The Brewing Storm

I actually knew something was off with Brad well before the fallout. It was hard to put my finger on, but there was something off in our text communication after the last overnight at their place. Even when the signs are subtle, we know when patterns of communication are disrupted. Sometimes they mean something and sometimes they don’t. It’s easy to deny and rationalize that we are being too sensitive and I was no stranger to this process. Especially given the fact that I am often overly-analytical, I rejected the idea that something was different. I denied my heart and told myself that I was wrong.

But I wasn’t.

A few days after our last overnight at their place, I sent him a song that I made me think of him. Embarrassingly, I also included an overly descriptive prose describing how it represented us. Just a week prior my message would have been met with a warm and reciprocating response from him. What’s even more telling is that I knew he was pulling back because in that embarrassing text, I left out emotional language and focused on the physical. But he didn’t even acknowledge it.

Getting no response chilled my heart and my enthusiasm. I felt a deep sense of confusion at how we could go from such intense texts to such lackluster involvement. It was as though we were playing by one game and he changed to a different game without telling me. I felt a sharp twinge disappointment but still I rationalized his coolness. He had friends visiting from college the next weekend and my mind told me that not hearing from him over the week and weekend was because he was having a great time. I brushed it off as silly insecurity and continued to give him space.

Up until this point, it was all in my head and easily denied. Feeling frustrated, I vented my concerns to my husband. He was worried and he encouraged me to keep reaching out to Brad and drawing him in. I tried this a few times and was often met with a lukewarm response. It was saddening to realize that he had stopped initiating.

Finally, it was when my husband and Amy made plans to see a live show and when Brad and I did not make plans, that I could not deny anymore.  Given that we had not approved separate solo dates yet, it was surprising that we weren’t trying to balance our dates. In addition, he is also a planner and likes to have the details mapped out, so it was very contrary to his nature. All of this was adding up to the obvious conclusion that he was not okay. Anxiously, I waited as long as I could. A few days before they were supposed to meet, I couldn’t take not take it anymore. I reached out to him and I told him that I missed him and I wanted to see him. We agreed to get drinks while our spouses were at the show. My heart fluttered in my chest when he agreed. I really did want to see him.

We made plans and then did not speak again until the night that we were supposed to meet. The quietness even before our meeting was a far cry from when we would count down the hours or tell each other how excited we were.

I walked in knowing that by the end of our date, I would either be walking out with tears in my eyes or with his hand in mine.

The Personal Challenge

Talking about our emotions and acknowledging that we wanted to  feel with another couple opened up an entirely new world between myself and my husband. No longer did we feel like swingers in that we just wanted random bodies. When we talked honestly about our desires for an emotional connection we found ourselves in agreement that we wanted more of the type of connection we were getting from Brad and Amy. We couldn’t quite put words on what that label would be, but we knew it was beyond swingerdom. None of us were seeing other people at this point and we were by all measures, ‘dating’. My husband and I realized that we would need to negotiate very carefully how we would go forward between between us. We agreed to be honest and forthright about what we needed and our insecurities as we moved towards an emotional connection. Because Brad and Amy were also connecting with us emotionally, we assumed they would be doing the same.

However, despite me agreeing to my husband being free to explore, I felt more hesitant in some ways due to my personal baggage. Emotionally, I haven’t always had the easiest time truly connecting emotionally with people. It is a difficult process for me and one that I work on to this day, but it is very hard for me to be vulnerable with others. While it feels comfortable and exciting for others to get close to a new love, I tend to feel anxious and worried in addition to the excitement. Most people don’t realize that if I do build up enough courage to tell someone something meaningful and vulnerable about myself, I feel terrified that I shared that much of myself. Because of this, I tend to hold back until I feel like the person is “safe”. Oftentimes, I deem that they are not safe well before I’ve actually given them a real chance. Once they have my trust, then it tends to be a bombardment and it takes a lot for me to lose faith in them.  I was hoping not to prematurely call Brad “unsafe” before I really gave him a chance. This was something I was intent on working on.

For example, in our last get together and in our first overnight, Brad and I connected very intensely. At one point he whispered into my ear, “I want to fall into you.” I felt a slight cold panic run through my veins but even worse when he said, “I want the line between you and me to blur.” This was a bit early for me and I don’t know how effective I was at truly reciprocating.  Generally, I need some time to feel safe before I can explore being vulnerable with someone. Because it was in the heat of the moment, I dismissed it as him being overly affectionate. He must have picked up on my hesitance because the last time we were over at their place, Brad mentioned something about me being guarded. I laughed uncomfortably and said that yes, I was guarded, but that’s the way I was taught to protect myself. He probed for more details about some of my childhood life and I swept his question away dismissively. “Ahh, it would just bring the moment down. We don’t want to bring the moment down do we?” I flashed him a coy smile behind my bangs and slid my hip to the side to accentuate my curves. He did not press for details as I went back to slowly stripping the clothes off my body.

For me though, this represented an opportunity to grow beyond my usual comfort zone. I was committed to trying to connect with him and put myself out there more after that evening when he said I was guarded. Sadly, as you’ll read onward, this did not work out for me very well.

The Consent For Emotions

He leaned over the table and lowered his voice, “What if she tells me she loves me?” My husband looked to the left and right to see if anyone had heard him. He showed a sense of nervousness as if he was planning a plot against the president.

I paused for a second and raised my water glass and slowly sipped the straw to steal a moment to gather my composure. With a steady voice I said, “Do you mean if she tells you that she loves you in the light of the day or during ‘the moment’?” I swallowed deeply. I described how sometimes “the moment” during sex felt so powerful and overwhelming that even I sometimes felt the urge to say, “I love you,” but that I might not mean it outside of the bedroom. He looked relieved.

At that very second, the waiter came by to take our order. We straightened our posture in the wooden booth and pretended as though we were having a nonchalant conversation. I found my pitch higher as if to disguise how serious our conversation was. With an artificial enthusiasm I said, “Yes, I’d like the white pizza!” The waiter was amused. Lombari’s was a casual but excellent pizza joint in Little Italy. We were elbow to elbow with customers and had to wait what seemed like forever for a table, but it was worth it. Having the roar of the conversation of other patrons helped us feel more anonymous in our public conversation, but when the waiter came by it disrupted our bubble. He took our order and after as he walked off we leaned back across the table towards each other. My right eyebrow raised as I looked my husband in the eyes. Does he love her? I thought to myself. How do I feel about this? 

He seemed more scared than certain and he also seemed more worried than happy. He was concerned she would be wanting to tell him during an unrequited moment. That’s when he explained to me the difference between him feeling it in the moment versus outside of the bedroom. He talked about feeling pressured to tell her in return and what that might mean for our relationship. We had been married for over a decade, and I was his first love. He was grappling with the idea of broadening his horizons by loving another woman. In some ways I felt as though he was both testing my approval of him falling for another woman while also stretching his own boundaries in how he felt.

Given that we had just gone to breakfast with Amy and Brad and observing their interactions, I felt certain that she was not ready to tell my husband that she loved him in the coldness of the day. I saw how her eyes did not linger on his…I heard her voice steady when she spoke to him. No…I didn’t feel that she was ready to tell him she really loved him. Maybe she was a good actress, but my gut told me that she was not ready to tell him that in the daylight.

Even so, this was different for us.

When we started out as swingers, there was no mention of an emotional involvement. In fact, there was an adamant agreement to be as non-involved as possible. Meeting Brad and Amy threw us for a loop. It changed our rules and it changed our boundaries. Throughout our exploration with them we realized how much we enjoyed the getting to know each other as lovers – not just as bodies. It was silly in the sense that in the beginning stages of our relationship, we kept wanting to “diversify” ourselves by meeting others but we could not bring ourselves to. If we had any free time, we spent it with them. For awhile they felt the same way and we were all practicing closed-swinging but without the verbal agreement.

As we progressed, my husband and I grew our boundaries accordingly. It was that day that I told him it was okay if he told her he loved her back. Even so, I felt uncertain. I felt scared. I also felt as though we were embarking on a new journey. However, at the same time, I wanted him to feel the love of another woman. I knew how beautiful that experience could be and I didn’t want to hold him back because I was scared. It helped that I also felt secure in his love for me. I fought back my insecurity and encouraged him to reciprocate. I told him I supported her telling him the “L word” and if he said it back too that it would be okay. If I am honest with myself, it didn’t take this conversation for me to realize that we had transitioned out of swinging to some undetermined realm of “polyish”. But that day we acknowledged and consented verbally that it would grow into something more. It was that day that I relinquished the expectation of being the sole winner of my husband’s heart and let another woman into our emotional lives.

The Quiet Before The Storm – Part 3

The next morning we joined them to have homemade scones served next to a pot of freshly made french-pressed coffee. We sat on the same tweed couch which looked slightly different in the morning light. It still was sophisticated, but it was more formal in some ways. My husband said things were off with Brad but I did not notice. Upon greater reflection, I might have seen that Brad was not okay, but I was also feeling quite ill from the drinks and very little food from the previous night. We discussed getting breakfast but no one moved, much to my dismay. Instead, Amy initiated a kiss with my husband which set off a chain reaction between Brad and I. My body was not hungry for sex as much as it was for food, so I was reluctant at first. As Brad unbuttoned my jeans, I tried to get myself in the mood and push away the queasy feeling in my stomach. This time, I pulled us away from them and asked Brad if we could go to the master bedroom. He went down on me for a very long time while I heard Amy and my husband were strangely quiet. I stole a peek from the open bedroom door and could see her sitting on top of my husband while looking him in the eyes. I was worried that she would whisper a mistake to him and freak him out, so I prayed that she would keep the moment inside.

After Brad finished with me, I returned the favor. I was slow, gentle, and loving with my tongue. As I quickened speed, I could feel him getting closer and offered encouragement with soft moans. Swallowing a taste of him felt forbidden even though we had pre-arranged that I could do this. I was anxious to get dressed and leave, but Amy ran towards me naked, throwing me back on the bed while laughing. I was playful at first and cuddled with her, but I said that I had to get food as soon as possible. It almost felt as though she was stalling our departure because she knew that after breakfast we would go home. This feeling was enhanced when they spontaneously suggested visiting a local brewery after we paid for the check. The last thing I wanted to do was drink more, but I was enjoying my time with them so I agreed. My husband was less enthusiastic but I don’t think they picked up on it.

On the drive back to pick up our bag, Amy sat in the backseat with me. She told me she didn’t get enough time with me and asked us to stay. My instinct told me it wasn’t really about me as much as it was about getting my husband to stay. Of course there is no way to be certain, but I did find out that she had previously tried to convince him to come back by rubbing a hand over his cock and asking what it would take to get us to come back with them. Because my husband was shutting down in terms of energy, I declined the offer. She persisted. I declined again. As we were departing, she asked what they could do to make us stay. I said that if we stayed, we would never leave, and gently pried us away with a reassuring smile.

We left, but something had shifted in the dynamic. It was subtle…too subtle for any of us to pick up on.

The Quiet Before The Storm – Part 2

We walked a few blocks to their contemporary loft apartment. An air of anticipation followed us while we took the elevator. When the doors closed behind us, we each embraced the other partner for a much desired kiss. Because of their downtown location, their apartment was only a one bedroom. They had rented out an adjacent apartment for us to play and sleep in. Initially, we all started in their living room. Brad turned on the playlist poured us cocktails that he made from barrel-aged rum. We sat on their sleek-lined tweed couch and kissed the partner of the other. I was pleased to hear favorite songs come on the playlist. One in particular inspired Brad and I to get up and start singing and dancing with each other. In that moment, life was perfect and effortless.

Very soon after we got started, my husband and Amy ran off to the other apartment. It felt strange to be in a completely different place from them, even though they were only next door. Brad and I remarked at how surprised we were that we didn’t mind that they had slipped away so we could be together. I sat on top of him as he laid on the couch. I slowly removed my sweater to see him smiling in approval at my lingerie selection. We kissed deeply and passionately for quite some time. There was one moment where he looked up at me inquisitively and said, “There is no way we could ever work in a relationship, right? We way are too similar.” My intuition told me that he needed to feel safe with our exploration by saying that we couldn’t ever be with each other. I nodded in agreement and smiled.

He led me to the bedroom where we had the entire queen sized bed to ourselves. The track lighting was dimmed and imparted a softness to the clean lines of their room. I pushed my body against his as he took me. My hair was wild, the long strands untamable like a mane. He pushed the hair out of my face so we could look at each other in the eyes. “There you are…” he said as his voice trailed off. We smiled at each other, like warm rays beaming from the sun. After we finished, we laid in each other’s arms, the beads of sweat slowly evaporating from our warm bodies. We talked and listened to music. We found ourselves opening up and sharing parts from our past intermixed with excited discussions about the songs that came on.

My husband came back in. “Hey Brad, Amy is falling asleep in the other room. Do you want to retrieve her?” This was important because we had agreed that sleeping separately was too much for us in the stage we were at. After the intense overnight, we had an explicit agreement that we would sleep with our own partners. Part of me was sad because I felt like the evening was a short relative to the luxuriating that we had done last time. When my husband and I were alone, he told me that Amy was very disappointed to not sleep with him. A worried look came across his face as he said that she was close to telling him that she loved him. He knew that she was saying it without saying it, and that they had spent the entire evening looking each other in the eyes deeply while they didn’t have much sex. I was also worried. We were only a few months in, and barely established as “not swingers” anymore, and I felt that it might be too fast. We agreed to discuss it and process later.

The Quiet Before The Storm – Part 1

“Do you like this or this one?” my husband asked as he held up two shirts for my opinion for our date with Brad and Amy.

I slid open the glass shower door. Water dripped onto the bathmat as I poked my head out to get a better look. “The striped one,” I said as I gestured to his left.

We were running late so I finished shaving with quick strokes of the razor. Despite the initial rush, I carefully picked out my own outfit taking great care to select lingerie that I thought Brad would like. His taste tends towards the soft and feminine so I did a quick fashion show for my husband to poll for his opinion. I was nervous and he could tell by my indecision. This would be our first date after the first overnight and it was Valentine’s day. After endless conversations about what it meant to see our lovers on Valentine’s day, we reluctantly agreed to meet with them. There was a certain air of heaviness as the implications pressed upon us. As we got off of the subway, I realized what a mistake it was to wear highheeled boots after a snowstorm. Manhattan is good about salting the sidewalks, but I had to carefully navigate the sidewalks by holding my husband’s arm to keep steady. As I stepped around snow piles and avoided losing my footing, it struck me how it felt similar to navigating our relationship with Brad and Amy.

We arrived very late and they had already gotten a table. As they stood up to greet us, there was an uncomfortable moment as we all decided if we should sit next to our spouses across from the other couple or if we should mix it up. We sat next to our spouses and shielded ourselves from the gravity of the situation by making meaningless small talk. We ignored the fact that last time was an intense overnight. Even though we were preparing for another overnight (but at their place), we spoke as though we were just friends who were grabbing drinks.

I locked eyes with Brad and smiled. We had an intense build up to the evening. Our nights had been spent texting back and forth with each other. We shared romantic texts about how we wanted each other and described the different ways we wanted to explore each other’s bodies. We exchanged “questions of the day” as a way to get to know each other better. We were opening up, talking about fears and insecurities, talking about past relationships, talking about it all. A few nights before, we had stayed up quite late texting while Amy was asleep. It was a very connected conversation and when his phone died, he moved to chat. It was exciting to have so much in common, but I worried if Amy would be upset or jealous. The next few nights, we did not talk so much because he was painstakingly putting together a massive playlist of songs that he thought I would like that would last the entire evening. I did not ever suspect that would be one of the last times we would talk so extensively with each other through text.

The Jealousy Fuse Shortens

Some days I struggle with our arrangement. As Brad comes closer to me, he pulls even further away. As Amy and my husband fall deeper, I feel the gap between us widen. Jealousy has started invading the edges of my world. With all the women my husband passionately took in front of me, I never felt any dark emotion. In small moments now, I feel it almost choking me as I struggle to tread these romantic waters.

I’m scared now.

Afraid that I will be left behind.

Worried that Brad and I will never catch up.

Terrified that I will be replaced.

I question whether or not I made a mistake. This pill has been like a sweet poison. While at first it tasted great, it is slowly sickening me. Like unpredictable waves of nausea, the envy comes and goes. The irony is that I was the one who pushed for the emotional relationship. I was the one who encouraged my husband to let go. Yet I am the one holding the bag of wanting. I’m getting small shreds of reciprocated affection while my husband and Amy leave us behind. When those waves hit, I do my best to tread the romantic waters without making a splash, but sometimes I feel like my legs can’t kick anymore.

Small things that would otherwise not bother me eat away at me. Yesterday it was when my husband was talking about him and Amy chatting about a solo date. He let me read the text message but before he passed the phone to me he said, “yeah, we hadn’t texted in awhile so this conversation was disjointed.” A leftward swipe to see the timestamps revealed over 7 texts in one day. My throat tightened as I felt the wind taken from me. That was more texts than I had gotten from Brad over a couple of weeks. That’s not because I don’t want to text with Brad, but rather the observation that I was initiating most of the texts with him and simply stopped. No, in fact, I yearn for the times where I get a random “thinking of you” or even a “hello”. Instead, days go by without a single word while my husband sometimes talks all day with her.

My heart sank. I looked at him and tried to joke, “this is not texting for awhile?” but my expression and shrill voice gave me away.

I knew I shouldn’t compare. Every relationship has it’s own path and you can’t predict where you are going or how fast you will get to the end. But in the moment, I couldn’t help but feel the sharp jab of envy. I am grateful that it passed in an instant, but I wonder how many waves I’ll be able to take before they swallow me whole.

The Separate Room Trap

We said we would never text separately. We said we would never have separate dates. We said we wouldn’t get emotional. All of these were pleasant lies  to make ourselves feel better while we were rationalizing why “this” and “that” was okay. We found ourselves crossing all of these lines and more within a few months of our relationship with Brad and Amy.

It started on a Friday.

Brad and I met at the Ritz hotel bar downtown. I had never been, and seeing my reflection in the marble floor as I walked through the luxurious lobby felt like a glamorous fantasy that was far from my every-day life. We shared fancy cocktails at the bar while making small talk with the bartender. Because Brad had gotten there earlier, they talked about Amy and the fact that the bartender and her were both from Greece. When I, a voluptuous fair-skinned blonde came to sit with Brad, the bartender raised an eyebrow in amusement. As he poured my second drink, he asked incredulously, “Your Greek?” I chuckled and explained that I was not his wife. Brad made a joke about how our spouses were out with one another because him and I liked music and they didn’t. I held my breath as the bartender took in the scene. I could tell by the scrutinizing look in his eye that he knew. A blush of self-consciousness swept over my cheeks as I looked away.

When the time came for our concert, we walked across central park. I was hoping that Brad would kiss me with the background of the city behind us, or even take my hand in his, but he did not. At this point we hadn’t even really touched each other in an effort to honor our spouses who were at a comedy show with one another. I understood why of course. He tends to be more inhibited and self-possessed. We made it to the theater and I was pleasantly surprised to see that he had acquired amazing seats on the ground floor. We were seeing a band that both him and I loved very much but our spouses did not. When the band came on, they were fantastic. The music resonated through my bones and even though we had spent the evening not touching, he wrapped his arm around me and pulled me close. I put my head against his chest and we gently swayed to the music while embracing each other. When one of their most popular songs came on, we sang together and I could feel his chest rising with every breath in synchrony with mine. It was very moving. I looked up at him over my shoulder and he leaned in for a kiss. Our tongues very slowly and softly touched while the music flowed between our bodies. It was as though we were completing a circuit in that when we joined together, the electricity flowed without resistance and I was powerless to let it wash over me. The music swept through my soul and I felt my body trembling against his. The feelings I felt in that moment (and he later told me he felt this way too) were overwhelming. I had so much affection running through me and so much connectedness that I didn’t even know how to handle it.

The next evening I was nervous while waiting for them to come over. I was literally in a frenzy of adjusting the most minute details of our home. I fluffed the couch pillows multiple times and tweaked the curtains. I rearranged the cheese plate, agonizing over the placement of the red grapes. When they arrived, I wiped my sweaty palms on my skirt before opening the door with a smile. We gathered in our kitchen to make drinks and laugh at the amazingness of our situation. We mused at how lucky we all felt to have met people who were like us and how incredible it all was. After awhile, I led Amy upstairs to start off the evening with a sensual massage to music. First, I massaged her back to warm her up. For the second song I massaged her torso, tracing the soft curves of her body with my palms. This song was much slower and allowed me to gently run my hands along the sharp slope of her breasts before running down her sides to her hips.  I was sitting on top of her by candlelight. She had her eyes closed with an expression of bliss and pleasure on her face. When the song was over, she leaned up and kissed me, her brown eyes beckoning me. We kissed for a very long time…her hands buried in my blonde hair and mine in her dark hair. Her body was very responsive as it moved with every stroke of my hand against her skin. Because I knew I had her warmed up, I laid her back very slowly on the bed. I kissed my way down to her pussy and was happy to find that she was soaking wet in anticipation. Initially, I kissed around her lips very lightly before slowly moving my tongue around her clit as I passed over it. I did this several times until her hips moved against me. I ran my hands along her breasts, pinching her nipples very slightly while running my tongue in circles around her clit. As she starting moaning and moving more against me, I took more breaks and kissed her thighs before going back to her sweet spot. Finally, she came and I felt her entire body thrash against my mouth. I sat back in satisfaction as she relished in the post-orgasmic bliss.

We went downstairs to find the men. I took Brad to the candlelit guestroom and gave him a massage as well. I was thrilled to see his body rise and fall with each passionate stroke because I gave him my all without holding back. I gave him exactly who I was and he took it in willingly. After I was done, he played a song for me to return the favor. His hands were strong against my feminine softness. When we had sex, I was on top of him, my blonde hair streaming across his face. He looked up at me, pulling my lips towards him as I submitted. When a favorite song came on we sang to each other softly and in that moment we were bare. We continued to have intense sex like that for the next several hours in multiple configurations. I came with him and it was a majestic experience.

Meanwhile, my husband and Amy were in a separate bedroom fully enjoying themselves. At some point, Brad and I fell asleep in the guest room. It was in the wee hours of the morning and we had a bit to drink. Earlier he had been passing the champagne bottle to me and pouring the bubbly liquid on my breasts as he licked it off. By the end of the evening, we were fairly sleepy and warm. When we woke in the morning we cuddled next to each other and he wrapped me up with his body. There were no boundaries between us. In fact, there was nothing present in the room except us and the rays of the sun that streamed through the window pane. I could hear my husband and Amy in the next room having sex and I knew they were having their moment too but in a different way.

It was so hard to pull away from him in the morning but I knew I had to. We got dressed and went downstairs to make breakfast. It was very easy for us considering it was our first overnight together and I had been so skittish about it beforehand. Prior to them leaving, we all had another round of sex and Brad made my body roll with pleasure as he licked me and continued to lick me. He is very generous with oral. Extremely generous. He did not stop until my body lifted off the bed as though it was possessed by demons. I felt embarrassed that the sheets were drenched under me when my body broke out in a sweat. After they left, I felt this overwhelming sense of fear and vulnerability that I had not felt in years. My husband and I have been married for over a decade, and having these feelings rise inside me caught me off guard. I laid down next to my husband on the couch and wept while he held me. The tears came because I felt uncertain, afraid, and vulnerable. He kissed the back of my head and told me that he loved me and that no matter what, he would be there with me.

My husband was feeling the same way and started shying away from Amy. In that time, I learned a lot about male psychology by seeing what my husband went through. Amy is so intense while they are together and she reflects this emotionality that reflects back to her. But in the daylight, initially he got scared because he didn’t know if he felt that way or what it would mean if he did. He told me how he was nervous because he has to shut me out in the moments with her to experience that level of connectedness. I pleaded with him to remain present with her even when they were apart, but I know he didn’t do a good job of this at first.

My husband and I were spooked. It felt like a tantalizing but dangerous offer that we could not refuse. Seductively, it drew us in and lured us into ignoring the potentially devastating consequences. Falling asleep in Brad’s arms made me feel more connected with him and yet more unsettled because I knew at some point we had crested beyond the realm of “swingers”. Maybe it happened when Brad and I pressed our bodies against each other during our platonic music date. Maybe it was the power of sharing a band we loved and the music rushing through our bodies to highlight the chemistry between us. Or maybe it was when I fell asleep in his arms and willingly closed my eyes  to the ignorance of my actions while succumbing to a warm sleepiness.

No matter the cause, I realized that we were trapped on an emotional landscape for which we were completely unprepared for. Turning back was not possible, but moving forward seemed impossible.

The Imbalance

What they tell you in books like “Ethical Slut” and “Opening Up” is that you have to go at the pace of the pace of the slowest person. Any logical and emotionally aware person would agree with this. It’s important to make people feel safe. By giving them safety and letting them make the rules, it eases the transition.

BUT – here’s what they don’t tell you. They don’t tell you what it’s like to be the secondary partner of the one who needs to go slower. They don’t tell you about the sadness you feel because the other spouse needs to pull back. The books don’t tell you about the envy you feel when you see your own spouse connecting so intensely with the willing spouse while you are paralyzed with doubt and consideration for the slower partner. No…in fact, there is no mention of the rejection you feel from this process. The books don’t give you a guide for what it’s like to be on the receiving end of the person who withdraws or how to deal with it. There is nothing about the difficulty of trying to remain emotionally present without pressuring them to go faster or how to work through feeling excluded from the dynamic.

The reality is that when my husband is with Amy, they have an intense connection that they are actively holding back in order to help Brad feel safe. But now, when Brad and I are together, I get is his averted gaze and the intentional holding back of himself. The saddest part about this is that before the blow-up, it wasn’t like this. There was something there that we shared. We texted and chatted frequently. He was engaged and would tell me how he was thinking of me. Our texts were flirty, sexual, and sometimes quite intense. We shared music and we shared closeness. In fact, before all of this, there was a time that he was asking me to look him in the eyes while he was inside me.

Now…it’s like I’m on a dock waiting for a rowboat. I have the paddle, but there is no boat. I’m looking through a thick fog but can’t see it and I have no idea it will come. I believe it’s on its way, but I still feel so cold and alone. My husband and Amy are on another boat, paddling out to sea with eagerness and vitality. He calls back to me, “are you okay?” to which I reply, “yes, I’m okay.” I say this tentatively and with forced patience because I have faith that the boat will return. But in the interim, I cannot escape the sadness and rejection that constantly washes over me.