Ok, a break from the dram-o-rama poetry for today.
So here I am today, with my kids, hanging out because spouse is working. Well, actually, the kids aren’t even hanging out with me…they are doing their own thing in other rooms. It is our first beautiful day in a long time, so later I will take photos of the buds on the trees. She is busy, and We are confused–Ok, I’ll speak for myself–I am confused.
Maybe “unreasonable” is a better word for what I am (and nicer than others that could be used to describe me).
I have securely duct-taped my inner, raging feminist and prude (can both be true simultaneously?) and am now dreaming of 17th Century France, where men and women would be securely married and have their true loves down the street, visiting regularly.
Really, it was a good set-up, if you think about it. Everyone was taken care of, every survival need met, every social stigma silenced, every booty call answered.
No one had to choose between their family and their lover, who was also often their Very Best Friend. Children’s lives weren’t disturbed by even the most cordial divorces. Spouses did not tire of each other’s antics, since all they had to do was get along, play their part, and keep their end of the bargain.
Searching for an image for this post, I came across several articles on why having a mistress is good for a marriage. All the reasons previously listed here were part of the
defense reasoning. Interestingly, all of these articles discussed men (French men, to be exact) having mistresses, not women having mistresses, or whatever the male counterpart to mistress is called. [Please leave it in the comments if you know…I’m curious. Lover?]
This is where the duct tape came loose on my feminist side. And what about women having lovers? [I’ll go with this until you give me a better alternative.] Perhaps there was a double standard, and that was a reason for the lack of lovers for wives. But think about it…17th century daily hardships, woman married to self-important man, taking care of God knows how many children…plus a lover/one more individual demanding something of her? Yeah, I’m sure it happened, but probably not quite as much as we’d like to believe.
Jump to modern day: I came across an article from PschCentral about polyamory, which is the hip word for “open relationship”. The article was about a couple for whom this seemed to be working. Both partners were bisexual (one male, one female), and they each had lovers come and go, sometimes living with them. As long as the other partner approved of the new mate, everything was good.
And here is where the duct tape slips off my prudish side. No thanks! [Shudders.] If I wanted that, I would have made different decisions long ago. For me, love is for someone I am in love with, which–with the exception of a few years in college–is more of a long term situation. I never married thinking, “This is great, and someday I will find someone else who will help make this set-up ideal.”
I didn’t realize I was bisexual when I was first married, either. [See this previous post for more on that topic.] It never crossed my mind that I would be walking away from a side of me that would come to call 20 years later. 18.5, to be exact.
That brings me back to today. Here I am. There She is. If I started this blog today, I would rewrite each post I have posted here, from the beginning. Missing Her. Loving Her. Wanting Her. Lovely Her. Impossible Us.
My fantasy is that 17th Century France life, where She and I could walk hand-in-hand, disguised as Very Best Friends, able to write love letters to each other without a single eyebrow raised towards Us, able to go off in nature and have Our way with each other, walking home completely satisfied and ready for the next move in Our individual lives. The Kids Are Alright [Have you seen that movie? You should.], no boats are rocked, and love remains in the air.
Then I snap out of it and realize that I am here, with family. She is there, without me–perfectly fine, but without me. Ah, damn. I guess I will go take some photos, even though it makes me think of Her ~.