“Just Hiking” by Kevin Freeman

“I’m Polyamorous” Abbi announces.

“What do you mean?” I ask, flat on my back, awash with endorphins.

She sits up on the bed, crosses her legs and turns to face me. Post sex, she is flushed and disheveled.

“I don’t know. I guess I want more deep emotional connections in my life.”

“Like what?”

“I feel like I need to expand” she continues. “I, I don’t want to feel constricted by rules – I want to find my own rules. With you.” She adds.

I knew Abbi had a somewhat promiscuous past and our fantasy life is peppered with anonymous partners and imaginative equipment. After almost 20 years together our physical relationship is still strong, but we seem to be wishing for more.

I sit up.

“But seeing other people?” I ask.

“No. I don’t know. No. Maybe. I want the possibility. I don’t even know what I’m saying.”

“Go on” I say, trying to read her expression in the dim candlelight. The atmosphere has lost its romance for me and my fingers feel cold. I pull a fuzzy blanket up over my legs.

She speaks slowly, with thought behind every word. “Well, I need to feel close to people, connected, but it feels like I’m limited or limiting myself. Listen, I’ve loved more than one person at a time in my life. It can be done. Fuck ownership. Patriarchy is a construct, you know?”

“So is romantic love.” I add, trying to deflect.

“Yes. So how can I, we, navigate to find space for people; for all kinds of love? That’s what life is all about, isn’t it? Expanding? Making connections?”

I frown in the darkness. Connections don’t come easily for me. I tend to work alone and have few close confidants.

“What about your friends? Don’t you feel like you have deep emotional connections with them?” I ask hopefully.

“Yes, and I love my friends. Sandy and Johann are great, but I don’t know – I just feel like there’s something more. Something , something more Egalitarian. Something…” She trails off.

“Is there something, or someone you want to tell me about?”

“No!” She replies. “There is nothing. No someone. This is all just theory. I don’t even know why I brought it up. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, I’m glad you did.” I lie. I pull the covers up a little more. “If this or anything is going to work for us, we need to have complete honesty and communication, right?”

She nods, so I go on. “Well, you say you have these great friends. What is the difference between great friends and polyamory? Is it just about wanting sex with someone else?”

I wince, not wanting to hear the answer.

She looks down. “Basically, no. I don’t know.”

Pause.

“Maybe.”

My words pour out. “Look, I understand that I can’t be everything to you. It isn’t fair or even possible. I can’t satisfy all your needs all the time. I know that. The companionship, things you talk to your friends about that you can’t discuss with me. I get it.”

I’m pleading now, trying to say the right things to make this all go away. Abbi cocks her head, pink hair spills over half of her face. I can’t read the expression, but her tone is serious.

“I just mean the potential for something. Out in the open. Something that would add to us. Our relationship. What we have. I don’t know…”

I interrupt.

“I would never try to put a limit on your friendships. I never say ‘I think you’re spending too much time with Beth’ for example.”

Beth is a new work associate for Abbi. She is engaging but emotionally unstable. Abbi tells me stories about Beth’s open lifestyle. Their frequent phone conversations end with Abbi saying ‘I love you too.’

I frown at the thought. I have never really experienced jealousy with her before.

She pushes the hair from her face and makes eye contact with me.

“Beth? No. Wait, Beth? You think Beth and me…”

Her brow is furrowed now. Did I read something wrong?

She speaks impatiently “No, nothing has changed. Monogamy and Polyamory are just words. I want more out of my life and I want my life to include you. You are my love. I couldn’t do anything without you.”

My chest feels tight. I force myself to breathe.

I ask “Do you want me to give you consent for something? I mean, it feels like you are already emotionally way down the road and I’m just trying to catch up. Is there something you’re missing from me? From us?”

I have the sickening thought that I have skipped the denial and anger stages and am starting to bargain before depression crashes down on me.

She explains carefully, like I’m standing on the edge of a bridge. “No. I love you. Let’s start there. Nothing has happened. I don’t have any expectations that anything WILL happen. I love you, us. This is a safe space. This is our safe space.”

Feeling exposed and vulnerable, I’m aware of my nakedness. The blanket is no longer sufficient for comfort. I want to pull on some clothes and walk up a mountain.

We agree to drop the subject for now. It was just something said in passing and Abbi isn’t sure what it all means. I mentally run through the flowchart of possible outcomes and none of them feel good. I can’t deny her access to her true character or minimize her questioning the boundaries of her life. At the same time, I’m not sure if I am capable of handling the insecurities at the thought of her being intimate with another person.

Over the following days all discussions are rational and reassuring until I lie awake in the middle of the night, lapsing into thoughts of conflict and my own definitions of trust and partnership. Have I allowed a Trojan horse of infidelity to slip into the citadel of our relationship? I feel like I need to write this all down before I lose my mind.

I typically journal during times of stress, but to maintain focus I joined a writers’ workshop last year, led by a younger woman named Izzy. It took a couple of months for me to work up the courage to read a short story, but the reception was encouraging. Izzy brought so much warmth and enthusiasm that I couldn’t wait for the next event.

I arrive at the bookstore after dark. January makes the hour feel later than it is and I don’t think my latest piece is worthwhile. Izzy is at the coffee bar and my spirits lift. I give her a hug for the New Year and we strike up a conversation about a common interest, hiking.

“Hey, I see your pictures. Looks like you’ve been busy.” I say with forced ease.

Beneath a boyish wool cap, her face is impossibly bright.

“Yeah, I just love winter hiking. Do you do it?”

I feel intimidated. I typically hike alone since there’s a lot of hyperventilating and stops for weary knees.

“No, I’d like to but never tried.”I answer honestly.

“You gotta try it! It is so cool because there are fewer people. Plus the views above the tree line are just amazing!”

“I don’t know. Don’t you need snowshoes and crampons and stuff?”

She is excited to share her expertise. “Yes, but I don’t use the shoes. You really only need the spikes. It will blow your mind walking up ice like it was nothing.”

“Like a mountain goat.” I offer lamely.

“Yeah. You should come, I’ll show you. I go all the time solo and with other people. You should definitely drop me a line.”

I swallow. “Ok. Let me get my drink. See you at the table.”

Back home Abbi and I are in the kitchen, trying to rustle up a late dinner of leftovers. The rest of the family is secured in their warm rooms, innocent to the conversation downstairs.

“Izzy asked me to go hiking with her.” I finally announce, pleased that I too can drop a bomb.

“I knew it! I knew you would be first and I would just be standing around.”

“What do you mean first or second, this isn’t a race, is it?”

“No, but I don’t have anything. There’s nobody, I am just being theoretical and here you go setting things up so fast!”

I can’t tell if she is joking or serious.

“This is just hiking,” I answer. We both know the possibilities are more than just hiking. Reality is raining down on us and forming puddles of confusion at our feet.

“I thought Izzy had a thing for you and I’m right.”

“I like her. She said I’ll need some crampons.” I say as I turn and leave the kitchen.

Upstairs there’s a message on the computer from Izzy. She sent me a link to a recommended brand of gear. I put it into my Amazon shopping cart.

I’m intimidated by new equipment; A new environment with new people. Have I given myself permission to try this?

With the click of the mouse I move the item to my Wish List and climb into bed with Abbi.

 

∞

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Kevin Freeman lives in the Hudson Valley and it appears that some Woodstock has rubbed off on him. Universal truths in collision with personal journeys make for an interesting soup of existence. Drink up!