“Who’s this?” I ask him, hand shaking as I hold the phone, complete with text that I definitely wish I hadn’t read. It’s the first time in my life that I realise I’m jealous. Until then I had never expected to be. He shakes his head in reply, mumbles, and tells me that he fucked her.
Maybe the feeling I need to tap into, if my partner and I are going to explore sexual adventures with other people, isn’t a sense of peaceful acceptance of the thought of him fucking someone else: it’s the kinkiness of it. Sometimes I want to show him off, and maybe this is the key to dampening my jealousy…
Apparently Mike Pence only ever eats dinner with his wife. Another guy, a blogger called Matt Walsh, does the same – never dining with any women other than his wife in case it could be construed that he likes them. Or might shag them. Or fall in love with them. Today I learned that some men refuse to eat dinner with any women other than their wives. Consider my mind blown.
Today’s guest blog pressed a lot of my buttons – and not the ones that are normally pressed when someone tells me a horny thing. As a mostly-monogamous, keen-to-be-more-open person, I have struggled a lot with my internal double-standard. My ideal relationship consists of one guy I love very much, who gets off on letting me fuck other men. Fucking other men is, it seems, something I truly want to do. Hearing about him fuck other women? Not so much.
Today’s guest blogger is Sir, who tweets with his partner Subbie @SirandSubbie on Twitter. He wants to talk to you about Subbie fucking other men, and I’m grateful not just because he’s sharing some pretty raw, emotional stuff, but because he’s managed to sum up quite a lot of my feelings (both rational and irrational) about this very thing…
I used to have a fairly regular nightmare that went a little something like this:
Guy meets girl, guy starts shagging girl, girl and guy tangle together, sexily. Their limbs slide over each other, their hands grip flesh. His fingers dig hard into the crack of her arse, the way he does so gorgeously with me. They see me approach but they don’t care.
I’d dream about this quite frequently – a side-effect of an intensely jealous feeling. Part paranoia, part justified worry. He’d never actually do this, of course – not to the same degree. But in the dream it wasn’t the sex that bothered me so much as the openness of it. The fact that, when I approached the tangled, tousled couple, giggling and snogging and touching and worse – as I watched my fucking boyfriend fucking hard with someone else, he’d shrug and brush it off like his betrayal was nothing.
“Oh, didn’t you know? I’m with her now.”
They’d carry on, as I stood stunned and watching. Stuck in the moment, unable to escape until the second I woke up.