What he thinks happened and what actually happened, is a tale to tell….
At this time last year, I was on a trip with my closest girlfriends, adventuring. I was happily away to a New Orleans, a place I’d always wanted to go.
It was a new year, and I was in a fairly good place, I thought.
But a few messages during that trip left me in tears, sobbing on a bed in a rental house near the French Quarter.
Let me tell you how it crashed and burned and a surprising phoenix rose from the ashes.
The Time Before the Crash
I have told part of this story before, but it really is incredible, in the smart, educated polyamorous world. I was dating a man who adored me, who bought me tea and wine and beer that I liked…and I am hard to please. Let’s call him Zach, for simplicity’s sake.
He knocked the first sex date out of the park, setting up a scenario to suit me under the full moon, outside, just public enough to make my hair stand up on end, yet private enough for me to moan loudly with enthusiasm as I finally sank down onto what he offered me in his lap.
For the months following, we had the best of intense but private relations. We went to the third floor and pretended to watch movies and I could not wait. Our only trips out into…