On the eve of our wedding anniversary, I am thinking a lot about our marriage, our journey into polyamory and cuckolding, and just life in general. Wat can I say? Being on vacation I have some time to let my thoughts free range.
Nearly universally across the board, friends always tell us how adorable we are, how perfect we are, and how we seemingly have a storybook marriage. And it’s easy to see why people get that image of us. We are both very attractive people, and more importantly very attracted to each other. We are both very happy and very in love with each other. We are often inseparable in our mutual social circles. And we define love. We truly do.
Is that braggy? Good. It was kind of meant to be.
But there have been times it has certainly not felt like a storybook marriage. There is stuff below the façade that those around us don’t see. For the most part, they don’t see the emotional toll losing our baby, multiple pregnancy losses, and years of IVF had on us. Most do not know I was, or maybe even still am, a sex worker. And the guilt I carried around associated with that. Most don’t know that once my competitive swimming career ended, I became anorexic and still really struggle maintaining a healthy body weight and really still terribly struggle with body image and dysmorphia. They don’t see me constantly convincing myself that I am not good enough for him, or anyone.
Everyone has their issues, both as individuals and in our relationships. I see it every single day. Patients will confide in me about issues that have nothing to do with their annual physical or why they came in to see me but seize upon the opportunity to just blurt it out to someone who will listen. I see it with friends, on ladies poker nights, when we share about what is going on with us.
WE. ALL. HAVE. THEM.
And that is the thing, isn’t it? We ALL have our own issues. When we are told these faery tales when we are children, were not told the stuff that makes us actual people. Disney doesn’t show us that maybe Cinderella actually had a part of her that enjoyed her submissive house slave status, that being on her knees felt right and have her a feeling of belonging. They don’t show us Belle pushing her breasts up in a mirror, wondering if Beast wishes she had bigger breasts. They don’t show us Kristoff constantly flirting with Elsa, and how that chips away at Anna’s self-esteem, causing her to wish she was Dominant and sexy like Elsa, but unable to actually ever say these things.
Faery tales usually don’t show us struggles, outside of losing a parent at a young age and which leads us as young women to find a prince to rescue us and fill that hole in out lives. But it’s the struggles that make us real. It’s the struggles that define us. It’s the struggles that build strength.
And Billy and I’s struggles have indeed built strength. We are stronger as individuals because of them. We are stronger as a couple because of them. And so people do get this image of the perfect faery tale marriage from us.
We have had far from a “typical” marriage. For the first half of my total time with Billy, we actually didn’t see each other that much. I was entrenched in college, med school in Boston, my internship in Delaware, back to Boston for residency, and followship in Chicago. Not to mention traveling constantly to Los Angeles and Montreal for shooting. Similarly, Billy was also always on the road. He spent long stretches of time in Colorado, Lake Placid, and Utah training and conditioning, and competing in different places around the world. We actually did do a great job talking every day, even if it was only for 20 minutes or the really crazy days. We would have to work hard to find actual time with each other. And even after he retired and we were living together, my career still pulled me away from him quite a bit. So much so that when I changed jobs last year, and got into private practice, I found myself finally at home every night, and actually seeing him every night. I think it was a July night last year when it dawned on both of us, “this is weird”.
In his competitive career, he was a man whore on the road. He never actually told me nor did I ever confront him about it, but I knew. And part of that chipped away at my self-esteem. And I got deeper into sex work and shooting media, which I now see in hindsight was fed by that chipping away at my self-esteem. And he later told me while he didn’t know the details of it, and certainly didn’t know I was making porn, he knew I was screwing around. And like me, he didn’t confront me on it.
But we made it through it all. And here we are, happy and strong. Sometimes I can’t help but wonder if kink is a crutch for us. If we didn’t have an FLR, and if we hadn’t gotten into this polyamory and cuckolding lifestyle, would we work? Would he see me as a porn star addicted to sex, money, and attention? Or a woman who always puts career over him? Would he resent me for that? Would I resent him for past sins, or resent him for being bigender, and wonder even more than I already do if I am enough for him to be happy?
Those are hard questions. It ultimately does not matter. It is something that works for us, and it does make us happy. And we do genuinely love each other and are in love with each other. From day one, love has been the foundation of our relationship. People can say whatever they want and make whatever judgements they will about my principles. But I wouldn’t have gotten involved with a man engaged to another woman and broken up a relationship if I hadn’t been so torn over my love for him. I fell hard for him from day one. Not an easy task for me with a man. And I have been just as deeply in love, and even more so, every day since. When everyone told me I was making a mistake marrying him. When people told me he was a loser with no future, with even my parents boycotting and refusing to come to my wedding. I did not care. I loved him so much.
And through it all. Through even the darkest days. I’ve never had a single regret. I would do it all over again. He is my best friend. For whatever struggles we have had. For whatever missteps we have taken along the way. I am so happy with him. We are so happy together. He literally makes me laugh every single day. Even on days when I don’t have much to smile or laugh about, he finds a way. He is always by my side, and always has my back. When I have a date with a Bull, he is often standing my nearby in his truck. Listening to music, or watching a hockey or football game on his tablet, or maybe even binging a TV show. He just sits there on standby. Patiently. Not because I’ve ordered him too. Not because he thinks that is what is expected for a stag. But just because that’s who is is- always nearby, there waiting for me to be done, or there if I need him in a pinch. He is my adventure buddy, in both the kink and vanilla worlds. Anytime I have ever said “hey, I want us to try this”, he is always all in. He has never shown one ounce of judgement towards me. Never been ashamed of me. Never made me feel like a whore. In fact, just the opposite. He’s made me feel like he’s always my number one fan. I love that he loves to shop with me and the girls, and do lunch and tea with us, and we have all accepted him as “one of the girls”. He is universally loved by my entire circle, and it’s easy to see why. And we have great sex with each other. Maybe he doesn’t have the biggest cock in the world. Maybe he doesn’t always make me feel things through PIV sex that others do, But damn do we have chemistry together. The way he kisses me, and how he can just set up camp and eat me out for an eternity. The way he holds me afterwards. The way he lights up when I enter a room, even when he knows damn well where I’ve been or what I’ve been up to. He makes me feel like a Princess.
In Friends terms (if anyone was reading my Twitter feed on May 27, 2021 when I was watching the Friends reunion you know how I feel about Friends), he’s “my lobster”. I love that crazy guy.