Thursday, February 3, 2011
I haven't written in awhile. Life, a back injury, and work have prevented such happenings, but alas here I am.
I'm frustrated with myself which is why in part I'm nearly forcing myself to sit down and write right now even though I much rather crawl back in bed with Anne and sleep. Sleep, what a beautiful thing when it happens.
I'm frustrated with myself for getting jealous (not entirely sure that's the right word to even use) at the stupid things.
For those that know or don't know we are private about our poly relationship - at least somewhat private about it. Most days it's no big deal. We can go out and about in public and just ourselves. It is rare the the three of us are together and it's not exactly like you suck face with your partner/partners in public anyway.
There was a death in R's family and he has had to return home for the funeral. There was talk about his father paying for the "three of us" and then it struck the "three of us" didn't include me because I am not known about. That makes me feel like a bitch for writing that so let me say this: R. knows there is no pressure to come out to his parents about me, just as there is no pressure for me to come out to my Aunt about the two of them. I'm am okay with that, but then something like a death in the family presents itself and I can't be there for him. You notice little things. I don't even want to notice the little things. Perhaps logistically I wouldn't have gone anyway but the only thing I can seem to focus on is the fact that it is not an option.
So I gave my support while here, stole (with his permission of course) a tee-shirt of his (yes I'm a dork), and this morning Anne and I took him to the airport. He posts a Facebook message (and again b/c we aren't entirely out), I simply can only post "Travel Safe". Anne can post her love for him. Does that really matter? I feel like I'm being petty and stupid. However it's little things like that and a few other small things that trigger the feelings of being "second". At the same time, the other part of me knows he loves me, she loves me, I love her, I love him, so should a FB post even matter? I want to say no, but sadly, right this minute, I can't.
I feel slightly less than.