From: [email protected]
Subject: Nurse Jones wringing her hands
Date: 8 Jan 92 01:35:29 GMT
From Nurse Jones,
This is a plea for a thread.
Subject: Relationships, N > 2
Advice: if you don't know about "A" and me, hit the "N" key.
Almost everyone has been supportive. It boils down to: "Go slowly,
feel your way, do what's comfortable, keep growing, don't stop unless
you want to. Play safe." Some are also saying, quite correctly, "Don't
be such an ass. Relax." I keep going over and over this. Sometimes,
I'm practically at the hand-wringing stage. The four of us have been
to the movies together, had dinner. We're getting to know each other.
We're friends.
The first thing I learned from the e-mail and posts is that no-one is
going to say anything that suddenly makes it all clear and easy.
Someone (off-net) once said that sudden religious revelations may be
valid, but they seem to have a particular appeal to the half-baked
mind. Maybe the same is true of sexual revelations. Assuming my
sexuality isn't half- baked, this is going to be a slow process, not a
revelation.
STella, Kayvan, Amelia, Michael, Tom D Lux, Dionysia, to mention just
a few have helped immeasurably either by post or e-mail. My state of
mind is very hard to separate into askable questions, but here goes:
Subtopics:
(1) Going from N=2 to N>2. How does the Primary Other react? How does
the relationship handle it? I would never ever ever do anything to
jeopardize my relationship with Jay. That is the most important thing,
but it seems it is also the least likely to be a problem. Jay isn't at
all jealous. She doesn't push that button in him. He encourages me.
And I would be hysterical if he suddenly wanted to do what I am
thinking of doing. Kayvan was particularly interested in this aspect
of my psyche. I told K that I would rather Jay had an affair with a
woman than a man, but even that would be awful. Mostly because I don't
like people to change on me, and suddenly turn out to be someone other
than the person I thought they were. If it were a process of gradual
self- discovery for Jay, maybe I could handle it. If I were allowed to
grow along with him. Okay, Kayvan?
(2) Autohomophobia. STella sure put her finger on me. I'm almost
completely heterosexual. I guess that's what it is when you're willing
to experiment, curious enough to give it a chance, and pretty sure it
won't work. And afraid that there might be a tiny chance that it will.
I'm a homophobe afraid of herself. An introverted neurotic homophobe.
Stella didn't exactly come out and say that, but she's still
absolutely right. I guess it's not so bad to admit you're almost
completely het. I can go that far comfortably. Thankyou Stella.
I liked Roo's comments about the bell shaped curve. I suppose an
excursion to one of the "tails" of the curve, as Jay calls them--the
fringe bits at the ends--isn't so bad.
It's coming, I know it is. It looms there. Sometimes bad: like a trip
to the all-nite dentist, Sometimes good: like a trip to Disneyland.
With free tickets on the bell-shaped curve ride at the Hormone
Pavillion.
(3) Self pressurization. And several people commented that I was the
one putting pressure on myself; it wasn't "A's" fault. That's true,
too. She's been perfectly normal. I'm the crazy one. She hasn't even
MENTIONED sex, or in fact anything unpleasant at all, as my mother
once said. I've been incredibly neurotic. I brought it up once, the
Valdosta party, and SHE didn't want to talk about it. She said I
wasn't ready. Of course, at the time I was even more incredibly
neurotic. I was acting like someone who has just heard on the radio
that an axe murderer has escaped from the state hospital for the
criminally insane, and the description fits the person sitting in her
living room. Every time she moved I twitched, giggled hysterically,
and offered her more tea. I'm much better now. No, really. At least I
know this is COMPLETELY my problem, not hers. I really like her. If a
week goes by and they haven't called, I call.
(4) Medical: I'm aware of the medical aspects. I know the numbers.
Although I was not aware that saran wrap was a solution. I don't think
STella was kidding, either. Are there any other product packaging
related solutions? Styrofoam peanuts? Bubble wrap? Right now, I should
just put all of me in a waterproof cardboard box and stay there until
this all goes away. Just kidding.
But there is a pseudomedical problem that there is no helpful data on.
I don't want an impersonal, purely physical relationship with anyone.
If I don't know them well enough to know they are safe to play with
(sans saran wrap), then I don't want to play. Call it strictly
monogamous polygamy. We've talked about getting tested. I've already
gotten mine, but it's easier for me, given my profession. If it seems
that they aren't as paranoid as I am, I won't play. I have indirectly
determined that they are monogamous. They have been for longer than
Jay and I, and we have been ferociously monogamous to date. From the
looks of things, we haven't even a single bisexual/gay encounter among
the four of us. None of are Hatian, hemopheliac, or had transfusions.
In other words, the situation looks as close to medically safe as one
could hope for.
I will not allow any of this to be an assumption. I will verify and
directly confront this issue before allowing anything to develop. By
the numbers, we are probably a bigger risk to them than they are to
us, come to think of it.
Where, if anywhere, in this situation, do you say 'enough is enough'
and throw away the saran wrap?
Should that EVER happen where N > 2? Isn't there a way to figure this
out, using probability theory or something?
(5) Can't go back. Must go on. Am curious (and yellow). For now we are
just becoming friends. We are already friends, really. We have a
remarkable amount in common. We can laugh together. We had an argument
and both knew it wasn't serious. For a midwesterner, that's pretty
close right there, being able to argue instead of using deadly
politeness.
I can't undo that just to evade my own neuroses. The trouble is, this
all has a direction. It won't just stop and stay put for a while so I
can get used to it. It goes on, and I go with it. Stella's gonna smile
and say "Life's like that, hon. You're in the game. Play or fold."
Can't fold. Afraid to play. Want to play.
(6) Losing Virginity. Once again, Stella nailed me. I've lost my
virginity three times, now. Once for real, once with bondage, and once
when I kissed A all on my own in Valdosta. You know what I mean by
virginity, here. First time, heart fluttering, give yourself up to it,
afraid but do it anyway, hold your nose and jump and it's burned into
your memory forever, good or bad.
In my list of three deflowerings, the first was horrible. The last two
were wonderful. I guess it takes practice, losing your virginity. I've
settled down a lot on this issue. This aspect of the fear, I can
handle. In fact, the question has mutated into Roo's bell shaped
carnival ride:
Label one end of the spectrum: dull, depressing, no sponteneity,
shallow
experience (bad)
Label the other end of the axis: exciting, a sense of chances taken,
bridges crossed, profoundly moving
experience (good)
I guess most people try to find a comfortable compromise some where in
the middle. Balance safety against returns.
Jay tells me I am collapsing an n-dimensional space to one axis,
whatever that means. He says it is possible to take chances and have a
bad experience. That I understand.
Jay says he already knows what I will do.
If I lose my virginity again, I don't want to be in that middle hump
of the bell-shaped curve. As a kid I was always afraid to jump into
cold water, but I always did anyway. I don't want to edge into this
water an inch at a time. I want to jump in over my head with both feet
at once and come up gasping. I want it all. And of course, I don't
want to hurt myself.
-*-
Every question I want to ask falls into one of two categories: It
either has no answer, or it is the kind of question that nobody can
answer for anyone else. I'm still asking. I'd love a thread to start
on relationships where N is greater than 2. You might be able to put
my white cane on the right path for me.
This is so silly. I just read that post about the workshops in San
Francisco on just about everything I don't have the courage to even
think about trying. I feel so amateurish all of a sudden. But who
wants to be a professional?
-*-
Here's an image from the now-even-more-humongous SF/BD Nurse Jones
saga I'm working on:
Nurse Jones stopped and stood in the settling dust, looked off toward
the setting sun and listened to the fading thunder of the shining
armor brigade. She thought, "Jesus. I could never even ride one of
those horses, let alone go where they go every day. I can't even take
the next step. How can I follow them?"
She looks back along the path she has just walked and thinks, "How can
I not? I can't go back."
"Maybe I'll walk just a little further. It looks safe up to the top of
the next rise. I'll just peep over and have a look. Just to see."
-*-
(I know, it's not a race. Everyone takes their own path.)
But wait! Over there! On that hill crest! It's Elf, with a glorious
sunset behind him. His horse rears in response to the spurs and comes
thundering down the hill toward me. He reins to a halt, leans down; we
lock arms, and he sweeps me up to sit behind his saddle. "This is the
way to go," he says. "You can see it from up here."
-*-
I should be so lucky.
Dinner with "them" again this weekend.
Nurse Jones,
trudging along behind.
PS. Did I tell you? "She" (of "them") lurks here, now. Since about
Xmas time.
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