This shit sucks to talk about. Like whoa. What are we doing? There are so many layers to “fair” here. We want and need different things. We really do.

The things we can offer aren’t necessarily the things we want to receive.

The things we want to receive… we can’t offer even a little. We are so different.

Monogamy has meant a lot of “let’s not talk about x problem because there is nothing we can do about it” and that’s getting blown up. That means we are talking about shit we maybe should have talked about years ago and we just didn’t know how. Or it hurt too much. Or something.

This is hard. What do we really need? That’s hard to say out loud. We need different things. That’s very true. We have always needed different things.

I have read a lot about 50/50 marriages. Where folks try real hard all the time to make things “equal” like who earns money, how to negotiate child care, splitting up housework…

God that sounds hard.

We aren’t good at doing the same things. If I had to earn 50% of our income… it would go down like whoa. If Noah did 50% of the housework he would have a lot less time and energy for paying attention to me and I consider that a bad trade.

I will happily keep the house clean while you are busy with shit I can’t prevent you from doing so that at the end of the day you will turn the full radiance of your attention on me. Fuck vacuuming. I can do the vacuuming.

I want your attention. I want your attention. I want your attention. I want your attention.

Not getting enough of Noah’s attention feels like a plant withering from water. I cannot live. I cannot grow. This is not a want. This is a need. I will die piece by piece if I do not get this.

We have never been all that good at balancing this. I would drain Noah dry if he wasn’t careful. I want so much time and so much attention.

If Noah worked 10 hours a week and spent the rest of his time with me, that would be ok with me.

I remember Auntie freaking out when Uncle Bob retired. She went out and got a job to get the fuck away from him.

I can’t wait until Noah spends more time with me. Please. He’s trying to have his next job be a remote job so he can work from home. I think that sounds dreamy. It will help him with his extreme burnout on dealing with people. It will let us just… be in a room together more. We like that.

I don’t want to date other people because I want less time with Noah. I want to date other people because when I do so our sex life is off the chart amazing. It is true that I was not willing to discuss limits on what I was doing a month or so ago. I really wasn’t. I shut you down. I know I didn’t communicate about that. I know I scared you. I know I hurt you.

I am sorry about that.

I know it still hurts the way I’m framing Portland. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m not sorry I realized I need this that badly. I’m not sorry that I limited my cheating in the exact way I did. I’m glad I had at least that much restraint and yeah I know that is chicken shit.

I’m glad I didn’t fuck up bigger. Clearly I needed to fuck up.

I feel really bad for being so god damn glad that I only fucked up that big. It was a fuck up. Yes. I am so very happy I only fucked up like that. When my self-control goes… shit I’m glad I did that well. I know I hurt you. I know you want me to be way way way more contrite than I know how to be about this. It is so complicated in my head.

I’m so glad I didn’t fuck up bigger that it is hard to be as sorry as you want me to be.

That’s weird and hard.

I am sorry I hurt you. That’s a full stop. I know that’s a chicken shit apology. That’s not a real apology. I know that. I am sorry I hurt you.

I am sorry I couldn’t talk about more pieces of this before I flipped out and just had to go fucking play with people. I’m sorry I told you I wouldn’t follow any rules and scared you so much. That was terribly unkind. I really should have found a way to negotiate a short going off leash period… not acted like that was the way things are now.

I really fucked that up.

I don’t want the rest of my life to look like April. As awesome as my friends are.

Noah. I am here for this. But I’ve always liked having lots of people come over. I’ve always had lots of friends. I just want to have sex with more of them more often. Because that’s fun. Yeah I’d like it if you were there most of the time. Any sex that involves you is better than sex without you. And to be honest, after all these years it is weird to orgasm without asking for permission and you don’t want me asking anyone else. It’s hella convenient for you to be there.

I’m insecure about the loss of time and attention. It’s not about your dick. Not really. I know I’m enmeshed. I know I… pull maybe more of my sense of self from this relationship than is strictly speaking healthy but this has gone so much better than anything and everything else I’ve ever tried. That’s complicated.

Sigh.

I’m nervous to speculate here about some of the stuff we are talking about. Intensity vs variety. What do they mean? What do we want?

What do we need in order to feel safe and happy? We are different. We need different things.

We are filling in different shapes of gaping holes in our hearts.

I’m happy to help shovel for you if you help shovel for me.

I know you don’t feel very likable. But I like you so much. I’ve already devoted 1/3 of my life to you and I plan to have that percentage only increase.

I’m frustrated with the idea that I shouldn’t feel entitled to anything from you. I don’t find that very useful.

Wow. I just had an interaction that I want to start reacting to. And I don’t. So time to stop typing.