I had a feeling something was off when I didn’t hear from Highland Park all day, and we had a hot date lined up for that evening. That was unusual for him.
This date also required many hoops of jumping through, for me, so I was getting slightly anxious when 7 pm rolled around, and still, no word.
We had originally planned to meet Saturday night. The only night I didn’t have my daughter. But he called last minute and told me he forgot that his wife had a date of her own that night with another man, and he couldn’t leave the kid.
Totally understandable. Weird. But understandable.
I said to myself, “I guess this is the life of the second.”
He felt terrible, of course, and wanted to meet as soon as possible.
I knew it would be a long shot because I had my daughter back that night and had nowhere to go, but I suggested it, because it was the next night, and my libido was not being very patient, so I said, “What about Sunday Night?”
He said yes. For sure. See you tomorrow night.
Now it is Sunday night, and I have not heard from him all day.
I moved mountains to make this work. In fact, I am proud of my creativity. I begged my older brother to come after my daughter fell asleep and to merely hang out in the old house while I went next door, to my new house that I had not moved into yet, and had hot sex with Highland Park over there in my brand new bed.
My brother said Fine. He would do it.
I spent the entire day working my ass off putting together that brand new bed.
Just for this.
And now I was sitting next door, in an empty two bedroom cottage with only a bed in it, and candles lit.
I was ready.
It was 8. Then it was 8:15 pm. No word. We said 8, right?
I am losing my shit.
Then he texts that he is sorry, he got held up, but he would be right there.
I found my shit again.
I had butterflies swarming my stomach, and my knees felt shaky.
Why does this guy do this to me? I am like a teenager in heat.
He finally walks through the door, and I give him a hug. There is a current of something that passes between our bodies when we hug. It’s like I can’t let go. My crotch becomes magnetized to his.
But I cold sense something was wrong, at the same time.
I pulled back. He looked sheepish. We walked farther in. I asked him if he wanted a drink. I had some sparkling water. He did.
Then he told me:
I think I ate too much bar-b-que.
While rubbing his belly.
I stopped for a second and looked at him, wondering if that was supposed to turn me on, and quickly realized it was supposed to turn me off.
I handed him a glass of water and asked him:
What is going on?
I am so sorry I am late. We had this bar-b-que with our neighbor’s, our best friends, and I have never gone out on a date on a Sunday before. It’s always been Family Night. I didn’t know what to say to everyone, why I was leaving. My wife encouraged me to come, but I feel weird and bad right now.
I felt punched in the heart.
I remember when I had those.
I wanted to weep right then and there.
But I didn’t.
I merely encouraged him to go back to his family. That we could meet another less encumbered time. And then I cried for almost an hour.
I didn’t have Family Nights anymore.
I have never felt as alone as I did at that moment.
Well, I exaggerate. I have my daughter now. I will never be truly alone. So, technically, that is not true.
But it certainly felt that way.
I don’t think I can see Highland Park anymore. This is too hard. Too weird. Too sad.
Being second in a polyamorous relationship SUCKS ASS.