10 Reasons I Could Never Be A Polyamorous Mom Due To Poly-Phobia
I am an open-minded person. SEXUALLY. Wink, wink. People can do whatever the hell they want as long as it is consensual and doesn’t involve children or animals. I so do not care. But like some of you, I have been reading the
Totally True Obnoxious Adventures Of Polyamorous PeopleÂ Polyamorous Mom (And holly hell, I still have to spellcheck that word because I’m so unfamiliar with the concept that I can’t even spell the word correctly) and it is so not for me. Why? I can give you 10 damn good reasons why.
I Love My Husband. That I Married.Â
My husband and I didn’t have some agreement before we got married that we could magically start inviting other people into our relationship. We married with the promise that we would be married, to each other. I married him knowing full well that we would get old and fat and saggy and boring and drive each other batshit insane on occasion. But he was the man I wanted to get old and fat and saggy and boring with. And drive batshit on occasion.
I Can’t Drop Skirt For Anyone Who Says My ‘Toddler Made Him Too Uncomfortable’
I don’t have toddler age children anymore, but I won’t even go to a drycleaner who acts “uncomfortable” around my kids. I can’t think of anything less attractive than some dude who says my kids make him “uncomfortable.” You know what makes me uncomfortable, pal? Sticking my tongue in some dude’s mouth who doesn’t like children, especially when I gave birth to them. This whole concept is the Bounty Quicker Picker Upper of sexual arousal. This is like paper towels, for my vagina.
It’s Like A Sexual Buffet – Of Exhaustion Â
And I fucking hate buffets. Listen, if you need a mess of CHOICE and novelty and newness in your relationships, fine. But at my age, I like knowing what I’m getting. I love the way my husband is, the way he smells, the way he touches me, the way his body feels next to mine in our bed. I don’t want some creepy new guy who expects me to try a bunch of new wacky shit he read about on the Internet and who may or may not enjoy creepy new fetishes that I have zero interest in. For all you know, one minute you are entering into a polyamorous relationship and the next minute you are with some dude in your cozy bed who wants you to sit on balloons until they pop. I got no time for that.
Â STDS. Or Other People Saliva. And Bodily Fluids. And Ew.Â
I’m sure lots of polyamorous people take all sorts of precautions when it comes to things like sexually transmitted diseases and such. But you don’t know! Oh no you don’t! I have the sort of relationship where I won’t even kiss my husband after he has consumed calamari until he has brushed his teeth like four times. I can’t even imagine if his mouth were on another human. If you find the idea of doing things with someone’s body parts that have done things recently with other people’s body parts all OK, that’s your biz. I just don’t wanna be doing these thangs.
Â Holidays And Birthdays Are Enough Of A PITA As it IsÂ
(Image: Â Blogspot)
I have one partner to buy shit for. I can’t even imagine having to worry about a whole other person I have to surprise on Christmas. And Valentine’s Day. And omg don’t even get me started on Steak and Blowjob day.
Â I Really Hate MacklemoreÂ
This is how it starts. One minute you are a nice young family and the next:
This all happened shortly before our family vacation. My husband, son and I drove in the rain to our lakeside destination, jamming to the Macklemore CD weâ€™d just purchased. She fell asleep in the back seat, I held hands with my husband. On the surface, things seemed smooth. In my mind, I was still reeling from my pseudo-breakup.
Right, and then you are trying to score tickets to a Dave Matthews concert for your family and your boyfriend and considering getting matching tribal tattoos on your ankles. Nooooo thank you.
I Don’t Want To Be Interesting For Anyone New
You know what was the worst? Dating. UGH. You have to sit there and be all super nice and polite and act interested when some guy tells you what his favorite Macklemore song is and UGH. I don’t want to impress new people. I don’t even want to talk to new people. I love my husband because we don’t need to talk to each other. We sit on the sofa and watch “Archer” re-runs and the extent of our conversations are “You want another drink?” and “I’m going to make popcorn” and “Look at the dog, he thinks he’s people.”
Â Someone’s Gonna Get Hurt SomewhereÂ
I don’t care how well thought out your little poly-plans are, jealousy, misunderstandings and hurt feelings are bound to come up at some point. You will slip up and say the wrong thing and then your spouse is all:
You had turnips? I thought you hated turnips. Whenever I try to get you to have turnips you refuse to. You know I always want turnips and I don’t think it’s fair you are having turnips with someone else. I think some things should be special to our relationship and now that I know you are enjoying turnips with someone else it really hurts my feelings.
Just replace “turnips” with “anal sex.”
If My Kids Found Out It Would Be Very CreepyÂ
I don’t want my kids to grow up with any “uncles” or “aunts” or “dear family friends” that they later find out me or my husband have been fucking. Sure, maybe they would understand when they are way, way older, like in their 40s, but I think every kid wants to think that the parents who gave birth to them who are married to each other actually like each other. And they don’t like anyone else in that “special” way that grownups “like” each other. Ask any person you know who had parents who were unfaithful to each other about how they felt when they found out about it. I don’t think many of them will answer “Oh yeah, when I found out my mom was fucking Uncle Timmy that was the best! Good times.”
Working Time For Dates Into My Life Would Totally F With My Fall TV ViewingÂ
Between work and caring for kids and taking care of a house and pets I have NO idea how normal people manage their television viewing. On occasion my DVR won’t let me tape certain shows because I have other shows scheduled. And now you gotta leave the house and go out with someone else and miss the season finale of Dexter AREYOUKIDDINGME? I’m sorry, but I think if these poly-people just got Netflix and watched some of the amazing seasons of television shows they missed the first time around, it would curb any desire to leave the house and have sex with new people.
My Vagina Belongs To Me And The Person Who Put Babies In It Â
You know when I love my body? When it’s walking around wearing clothes on it and when I take these clothes off the only person who sees it is the person who has lived with it for over a decade. A decade of birthin’ babies, nursin’ babies, having surgeries and health scares and maybe a few extra hundred dozen cupcakes. I have ZERO interest in showing some new person my body when the old person who has seen my old body likes it just fine. He knows where the scars come from, where I have a mole, and what my small tattoo means. Showing this mess off to someone new not only freaks me the F out, it is both amazingly and highly unappealing. Maybe this polyamorous thing is for the young, those who aren’t all old and boring and sagging and super excited for the new season of “American Horror Story.”Â But I will instead say I’m just a romantic, and I love my spouse and our old people monogamy.