So you may have guessed by now that Z and I are both highly sexual people. We have sex daily – most of the time. Life happens, including periods. But not anymore, because I had a hysterectomy.
In plain terms, my uterus and cervix were removed, and in my case, tubes as well. Now, if you need a brush up on female anatomy, the cervix is at the top of the vaginal canal, and the bottom of the uterus. So, if you take off the top of the vagina, it must be “cuffed”. Because of this, I cannot have anything penetrating my vagina or anus for 8. Whole. Weeks.
For either of us to go 8 weeks without sex would make us super grumpy, no matter what the circumstances. I didn’t want Him to go without that release. I knew I didn’t have a choice. But more on me later.
I have been doing a lot of work on myself being ready for Him to have another lover. I love all the possibilities that open up to us when we open our hearts to love in all forms. And this has always been on the table for our relationship. I wrote about it back in June.
Now I was worried He would get a week into my recovery and stress about asking me if I was ready to consider Him having a lover. I didn’t want to be caught off guard either when the time would come, regardless of timing with my surgery. Plus to avoid stressing myself and feeling guilty (recovering catholic) for not being able to give my body to Him, I told Him several weeks before the surgery that I was okay with Him looking around.
I put in a lot of work to fight off jealousy and insecurities between then and now. He has reassured me anytime I needed it, that my place in His life is not threatened by His sexual activity or connections with other people. I am His life partner. I am a part of His family. No one will take that away. His wife has also helped me with a lot of that too.
But the timing was still very hard for me. I struggled with my own demons.
Anyway, throughout the week, plans were made. Friday night was their date. I suggested to Z’s wife, L, that we get chinese food, and so the kiddo, L and I settled in with some visually appealing Netflix for background, and a deliciously comforting dinner.
I kept myself mostly distracted with movies and crafting after that. I tried not to look at the time. And it worked! Then He was home!
When He got out of the shower, and I came into the bathroom, He told me they did the thing. (I knew already; He was showering again). My rational mind raced ahead to my reassurances and reminders. I could see the spring in his step. I was glad that He was able to. But my heart… it couldn’t understand my mind. It felt like it was being squeezed by a fist. I couldn’t breathe.
I cried uncontrollably for over an hour. He held me, then gave me some space. L comforted me, then gently nudged me to go to Him. He comforted me while I cried some more and reassured me of all the things I already knew, but needed to hear again. It was so emotionally intense to feel such turmoil based solely on the conditioning of growing up knowing only monogamy at complete odds with my desire to be polyamorous, and not controlled by envy.
But to actually see the bounce back in His step and His relaxed demeanor after that physical release that He needed… I knew we were on the right path and that I would be okay.
Sure enough, within an hour of talking, reaffirming, and even hearing about His evening, I wanted to serve my Master and make His night the best it could be. So naturally, I gave Him a bomb ass blowjob.
Poly isn’t easy, folx. But it is rewarding. I’m no expert, and I know I will still struggle on occasion. But I’m committed to being the best me and doing poly in a healthy way that works for us.