Page 44 of Cuffed to my Roomies
Not to be discouraged, I started checking out some of the latest stats on open relationships, couples that loved each other and lived together on their own terms, inviting another partner into the bedroom with them or seeing other people of any gender separately and keeping to a set of agreed-upon standards. I made notes frantically—some common rules were safe sex only, oral only, strangers only, same-sex only–it was baffling and fascinating. I guess I’d always imagined polyamorous couples to be the kind who threw their keys in a bowl at swinger parties in the sixties like I’d seen in the movies. To read how many people there were, people my own age, who made their own rules like that was really eye-opening. It made me think of a really good article topic, and I had just the built-in research team I needed right there in the loft.
19
Brett and Derek came into the loft quietly, so careful like they wouldn’t want to wake me at two in the morning. I was awake though. I had dozed in one of the recliners for a while, but I got up around midnight and looked up more information on the polyamorous lifestyle. I wanted to have a reasonable amount of facts to present to Liz, and a basis for my choice.
“Hey!” I said brightly. I hopped up from the table where I’d been taking notes. I picked up my glass to take a drink, but it was empty again. I glared at it, confused for a minute, before I bounded over to the guys, “Wanna help me with something? I have an idea.”
Brett looked at me quizzically, then cut his eyes to the wine bottle that was about two-thirds empty, “Did you drink all that alone?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Nothing. You’re just terrifyingly perky,” he said.
“I’ll help. Is it naked help?” Derek teased.
“Actually it probably will be,” I said matter-of-factly, “I found a new topic and the last two years of Envy have barely touched on it. But it’s kind of a big deal, especially with people our age. Polyamory, loving more than one person at a time, having an open relationship. Or a committed couple who share another lover. There are all these combinations I never dreamed of being part of the spectrum of normal. I mean—I thought, there’s straight people and gay people and maybe some bisexual people. I never knew there were all these options, you know?”
They stared at me but they didn’t ask questions. I thought they’d both be brimming with questions and opinions and that Derek would crack some dirty joke. I didn’t expect radio silence from the guys.
“Well?” I prompted, waiting for them to tell me what a super idea I had. “I want to write about polyamory. Specifically, threesomes. How it works, how that can be positive and healthy in a relationship. It’s not sordid and demeaning. I want to throw open the curtains on a lifestyle I never thought I’d be a part of.”
“Polyamory?” Brett said, “That’s new. I suppose I hadn’t looked to put a label on this.”
“Have a seat, boys,” I said, pouring myself another glass of wine. “I know you’re tired after work, and I’m a little bit tipsy, but things need to be said. I’m not just playing around, hooking up with both of you. There’s this part of polyamory, the word, that stuck with me. It’s about love. And I love both of you. You’re the best friends I’ve ever had, and I’m so lucky to have you. And to have found the two of you, who accept me and like me the way I am and don’t judge me for wanting to be with you both, drunk or sober. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” I said, sniffling.
“You’re a sloppy drunk, Lyn,” Derek said, tackling me in a bear hug, “And you know I love you too.”
“I love you too. And your frittatas, which I might add you have not made again despite being on the receiving end of some world class sexual favors,” Brett said.
“Fine, make a joke. I’m serious. I care about you both. I think that polyamory is a topic that is worth learning about and writing about. It’ll interest the readers and hopefully Liz Markham will approve.”
“ “You know she’s not the be all and end all of publishing right?”
“I know. But she’s awesome and she was disappointed in me and I—”
“Got shitfaced and declared your love for your roommates? Yeah, I noticed that part,” Brett said.
“I am not shitfaced,” I said, enunciating carefully so I didn’t slur, “I’m po-ly-am-or-ous. And you are, too.”
“I’m not sure I qualify, since I’m only amorous with you, not Derek.”
“Yeah,” Derek said, “Me and Brett, we’re just comfortable together because we’re friends and we work together. I don’t go around checking out his ass in the locker room or anything.”
