It’s the first New Year of a fresh, now living-together, intimate relationship. I’m away on a residential retreat, completing a year-long transformation process with a group of souls – one of whom had been my long-term partner when this process began. She was extremely angry and wanted nothing to do with me – quite understandable given the circumstances – and used this uncomfortable opportunity to engage me in a ‘cutting ties’ ceremony.
It was years before we spoke again.
Early One Day When Least Expected
Meanwhile, my now partner was at an all night party with close friends of ours to celebrate, welcoming in the new year with joyful and wild abandon. On my return, in the days that followed, we recounted our respective experiences. She shared she’d had sex with one of the guys at the party (not someone I knew). While there weren’t specific parameters around ‘this sort of thing’, committing to monogamy was not one of our agreements. From the beginning of our relationship she was aware of an intimate connection I had, treasured and held with deep regard in another city.
It stung nonetheless.
It can be assumed that when one is willingly non-monogamous that one doesn’t feel anything. While in the sharing, the experience was emotionally down-played and offered with gentleness and care. But it didn’t reduce just how much it strung. Involuntary emotions flooded through me as a sickening wave of dizziness and decapitation.
I reflected back what I was experiencing as it was happening as best as I was able to, while she remained beautifully present with it all (thank you!). We talked, walked and maintained a connection… unhurried, and with as much gentleness and allowing as we had skill and capacity for. It took hours, if not days, for my nervous system to settle, and a point where the emotional charge had largely found its end-game.
The Then and After
On its own, so far as I could tell from my own perspective, it felt as if it was a positive experience in its reconciliation. One aspect has though disturbed/intrigued me ever since, and is what prompted this writing.
As stated, I did not know the guy – he was a friend of a friend, in fact a friend of a few friends. Within a day of finding my own internal resolution we went to a dinner party and, once there, I was gently briefed he would be too… I was to meet him! I felt I was in a good place, with no trace of negativity – in fact I was curious and genuinely interested in making his acquaintance.
So far as I knew he had also been briefed: that I knew everything and all was good. So when the opportunity presented itself I bravely (there was some awkward discomfort) went over to him to introduce myself in what I thought was a friendly gesture.
He… he reacted, rather badly.
It seemed to me (in my best recollection of the moment) that he almost threw himself on the floor, pleading out a desperate apology of guilt and shame, saying that he hadn’t meant to destroy my relationship (he hadn’t!?!). My memory of what played out then is absent and, over the years that followed whenever I encountered him we seemed to never quite acknowledge each other.
From the whole experience, this was the first time I felt angry, specifically towards him – not for what he’d ‘done’ but for how he held it in my knowledge and presence. I can only imagine what was going on for him. Perhaps he wasn’t even speaking to me, but unconsciously unburdened himself of other experiences held in secrecy and deceit? I just don’t know, and wasn’t sufficiently skilled at the time to meet whatever he was presenting with. And while I don’t feel I have a right to impose a ‘right’ action onto someone in that situation, I did feel a preference, perhaps, for a more open and vulnerable conversation that acknowledged what was with grace and presence.
I have since been in his situation (same, not same). There were certainly ways in which I responded, out of reaction/defence, that don’t sit well with me. They certainly didn’t help to foster an opportunity for any such open and vulnerable conversation. I sincerely apologise to that man for my failure of attitude in the moment. My preference though remains, and I hold myself to being that, as a wish for myself in all my relations, including those non-intimate ones that occur by osmosis – after all, my lover’s lover and I have a common interest, and it’s a very special one.