“Another Tragic Monogamy Accident…”
That’s what my lovely and talented spouse (hereinafter Spouse) and I say to one another whenever we see a plot point in a television series or movie which could easily be solved if only the characters would embrace the power of AND. The hero is torn between two attractive women, but must choose only one. Or the heroine is involved with one attractive man but encounters another, equally-if-not-more attractive man… Oh–decisions, decisions! It’s amazing how many stories fold like a cheap mattress when the (usually unspoken) rule that one can only have one serious relationship at a time is discarded.
Oh, it’s okay to date (and even sleep with) more than one person, but as soon as things look to be getting serious, our virtuous hero or heroine must pick one to cling to–and hand the other his/her walking papers. Or be considered a cad, a slut, a very bad person. Of course, if you tire of one lover and dump him or her for someone new in serial monogamy, that’s okay. You’re allowed to work your way through the field, as long as you have the decency to do it one person at a time.
I’ve never bought into that mindset. From the time I discovered orgasms and sex (and in that order), I knew I wanted lots of both. And I saw no good reason why I should limit myself to only one playmate. Alas, wanting and having are two different things. As Spock said to Stonn, his Vulcan rival in Amok Time after winning T’Pring’s hand–and other body parts–in the arena, “After a time, you may find that having is not so pleasing a thing, after all, as wanting. It is not logical. But it is often so.” Well, that’s probably true of someone like T’Pring, who was only interested in either man a means to an end. But it’s not universally true, and it sure as hell isn’t true about sex. Wanting sex is nowhere near as much fun as having sex.
I wanted sex for years before I managed to scratch that itch. I’d like to say “and not for want of trying” but I’d be lying. Shy, introverted, and hindered by a religious upbringing (more out of fear of the consequences if I acted on my desire and got caught, rather than because I believed in the virtue of chastity), I often failed to act on my desires. I also see, in retrospect, a number of missed opportunities; missed, of course, because in my shyness and discomfort, I missed cues that nowadays I’d actually notice. But eventually I succeeded in relieving myself of my unwanted virginity, and spent a year of college having what, at the time, I thought was gloriously exciting sex. Looking back on it, it was pretty bland, unimaginative sex with someone not much more experienced and possibly more inhibited than I was. But at least I was getting laid.
We broke up eventually, since we had nothing in common but sex. And it was much, much too long before I scored again. With someone who introduced me to the concept of polyamory. Multiple sex partners? Sign me up! There’s more to poly than that, of course, but that’s what I heard–and what I liked. We dabbled a little. I had two other partners for a time, though we didn’t see one another often–not nearly as often as I’d have liked. Eventually that primary relationship exploded messily, and I was single again.
Fast-forward a few years, and a couple of other relationships, and I find myself married to Spouse. We have a number of interests in common, including casual sex. So after some discussion, we decide to explore a local sex club. It was scary and exciting beyond belief; we spent over a year visiting regularly, never having sex with anyone else, just watching others having sex in public, and eventually doing so ourselves. Eventually, though, we took the plunge. We swapped with another couple. And then another. We were invited to a sex party, and then another. We fell in with a small group of dedicated swingers. Many others have come and gone (no pun intended), but the core group remains–and it was glorious. It’s still glorious fun, more than a decade later.
They say “write what you know.” So when I began writing with the intent to be published, my experiences informed my fiction. I write erotic romance, with the emphasis on erotic. The requisite “Happily Ever After” ending of traditional romance leaves no room for poly or swinging, but that’s what I enjoy writing most. So I mostly write erotica. The characters, the settings, the events…none of them are taken from real people or places, but I know what it’s like to be in a club or a hotel room, surrounded by naked men and women. I know what it is to see and hear and smell sex happening all around me, or to be the center of attention when I’m part of the couple or group everyone is watching. I couldn’t imagine giving that up, and fortunately, I don’t have to. My spouse enjoys it as much as I do.
It’s not for everyone.
But neither is monogamy.
I am hoping to set up a group of authors to get books to review directly from. I already get them from Lex Valentine (amazing books, sweet and wonderful lady) which is so kewl. I just want to have a few more that I like reading from on my list too. I am hoping to get all my bills paid off soon so that I can start to purchase what I want also.
ll not even try. A relative of mine is in town, and she’s very conservative and very religious. I am neither of these things. I did my best all day to keep my swearing and perving down to a minimum. (Stress! I had to take a break after lunch just to go ingest some high-quality porn.) Anyway, Mom and Dad, the relative, and my bff from high school (who is totally every inch as evil as I am, and sometimes more Machiavellan) all went to a basketball game tonight — our local pro-team. I spent most of the game drooling over the cheerleaders and making deals with J (my friend) over who would get to claim which girl. This isn’t why I am going to hell.
