I suppose I had it coming. Things were just too good, and I couldn’t let well enough alone. I’d just gotten a tremendous promotion, and after a week’s vacation in New York, Date #4 and I had reconnected on a new level. I’d finally settled into our relationship after waffling on whether or not I ought to be in one. I let myself fall in love again, and we celebrated our six-month anniversary with a fancy dinner out.

And, despite the fact that he had decided with much finality that he would be moving away come the new year and that neither of us wanted to carry on a long-distance relationship, we were getting along splendidly.

I couldn’t let well enough alone.

I’d been reading about open relationships. It all made sense to me. Were we really made to be monogamous? I’m evolved enough to know that what we feel and have between us is stronger than sex. I’m progressive enough to know that sex is just sex, and what we have is intimacy and love. How many relationships had I ended just because the proverbial grass looked greener on the other side? Nearly all of them.

So, Date #4 and I had a long talk about fidelity, openness, sexuality, trust… and we came to the conclusion that since we’d been ending our relationship in two months anyways, why not try a little experiment? We made a list of people we didn’t want the other to sleep with and insisted on total honesty. This was Tuesday evening.

Date #4 headed out of town for the weekend, and work kept me in town. So, I decided to begin our Great Experiment by heading out to the club to carry on as an Ethical Slut. The funniest thing happened though. As I looked around at the men hitting on me, none of them came close to Date #4. I realized how little I really wanted to sleep with anyone. Sure, it sounded nice in the theoretical sense, but when faced with it, I balked. More than anything, I missed him.

I left the too-interested guy sitting next to me at the club early on in the night, and texted Date #4. No answer. I fell asleep and woke early to a horrific nightmare – I’d dreamt that he’d slept with someone the night before. I needed to terminate the experiment before something irreparable happened. I called. Straight to voicemail.

I was petrified.

Finally, he called. “Oh, finally,” I said with tears in my throat. “I can’t do this. I had this terrible dream last night that you slept with someone else.”

Silence.

“I did.”

Silence.

“Are you serious? You’re not serious.”

Silence.

I wanted to vomit. I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t do this. Why did I think I could do this? What ever made me think that I could share the man I love so deeply with anyone and not care?

I’m devastated and I’m heartbroken, and it’s my own fault. It was my idea. I can’t be angry or pissed off at him. I have no idea how I’ll forgive myself, and I have no idea what will happen with our relationship.

I met up with a friend early and he looked at me and said, “You know, Holly, no offense, but you don’t have the personality for an open relationship.” Hindsight is 20/20.

So, let me offer you my lessons since I came by them so hard.

1. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. Date #4 and I had two more good months left to enjoy one another and the opportunity to part amicably. I have a tendency to pick and pick and pick at something, until voila! Disaster.

2. Give yourself sometime to consider the weight of your decision. Based on one conversation, we made a very big decision and barreled ahead. We didn’t even give ourselves a full week to sleep on it.

3. Be willing to accept the consequences. I knew this outcome was possible, that our decision might ruin everything, but I really thought I was much more progressive than that. Imagine the worst-case scenario and the best-case scenario. Ask yourself if the worst is worth the best. In hindsight, my answer would be no.

4. Consider both sides of the story. I didn’t read one negative article about open relationships. I only read the positive ones. That’s poor decision-making.

I don’t know if Date #4 and I will survive this or not. The “emergency brake” we both agreed upon in our original conversation has definitely been pulled, but I’m not sure what to do now. It seems unfair to end everything because he did what we said we would do, but I’m also very, very confused. Why did he do it so fast? Why didn’t the feelings that kept me from hooking up with someone keep him from it? Would I have cared so much if I had hooked up with someone too?

I don’t have the answers. I’m just learning as I go along, and there’s some collateral damage sometimes. In this case, it’s my own heart. I can tell you that it’s the last time I will handle it so lightly.

I won’t be writing as much about love and relationships as I have been lately. I do, however, want to explain why because I am very committed to being open and honest with you guys. While it didn’t take me long to make this decision, it was a difficult one. My readers have told me repeatedly that they enjoy my relationship posts the most and that made it difficult, because I want to give you what you like to read.

That said, two big things came up yesterday, aided by one little comment on another blog. One is that I have entered weekly counseling. If you read this blog regularly, then you know I’ve been in a funk. And since I’ve always been completely honest with you all, you seem to know me, and you’ve been asking if I’m OK. After a few months of trying different things (exercise, diet, time alone, time together, on meds, off meds, relaxing), I’ve come to the conclusion that I can’t fix this one on my own.

A major part of my counseling centers around what it is that makes a strong, independent, intelligent young woman like myself turn into a weak, self-doubting nervous wreck in relationships. Call me crazy, but I think I need to give myself some privacy to work out these issues. My counselor has also asked me to keep the content of my sessions between him and me. Besides, I really don’t think you’ll want any relationship advice from the likes of me.

Also, Date #4 has been an avid reader since we first got together. The freedom I have enjoyed thus far in letting my writing roam far and wide through my relationship-related thoughts has lasted a lot longer than I thought it would. At this point in my relationship, I think it’s time to back off for both our sakes. I have to admit that there are posts I have would have a hard time dealing with if I were in his shoes.

A special thanks to Dad’s House here. The author responded in his own comment section on writing about relationships while they are ongoing: “In fact, I don’t blog about any relationships while I’m in them, out of respect to the other person.” It honestly hadn’t occurred to me that I was being disrespectful to Date #4 by broadcasting my joys, fears, and issues regarding our relationship to the world. Like I said, I’m not sure you want to take relationship advice from me.

Now, don’t think that I’m being secretive. I am happy to answer any questions you might have, love-related or otherwise, via email. Those of you who have emailed with me know I’m an open book. And this isn’t to say I won’t ever blog about love, my relationship, etc. I will, but only when I can be as open and honest as you are used to me being and can offer you something valuable without hurting anyone in the process.

Hey, maybe I’ve achieved some work/love balance after all.

Photo by dimi15 via Flickr.

I’ve come a long way in the past 15 months. I’ve survived the fledgling first year of sobriety, lost two dear people, been named employee of the month, and started a company that is finally catching it’s first big break. And yet, when it comes to my first honest-to-god mature relationship, my bright demeanor fades.

Before last year, I was a serial monogamist, jumping from one long-term relationship to another before the sheets could get cold. I knew that was a bad pattern, and when I got sober it was suggested to me that I not start any new relationships for a year. I’m a fast healer, and so, headstrong, decided I was well enough for a new relationship after six short weeks. You can imagine how well that turned out. After that I took that suggestion more seriously and faced my fear of being alone. And I embraced it.

I realized in those months of singlehood that without a significant other, I could be myself in a way I had never been able to be. Which was really important when you consider that I’d never really known myself in those formative post-adolescent years of drinking. When GIWS and I decided to be friends, it was a bit of a relief. I knew that I wasn’t ready to be in a LTR. I’m still not convinced that a year was long enough to become a fully formed, healthy person.

That said, when I met Date #4 I knew I’d found something I couldn’t pass up. After all, I’d have to get back out there sometimes. And besides, I felt phenomenal. I’d never been so sure of who I was in my whole life. Everything was organized just so, and I was steaming along. I penciled in dinners, coffees, and movie dates between appointments with clients and races. That kind of pace can be difficult to maintain, and somewhere between falling head over heels and two sinus attacks, I lost the balance.

I lost Holly.

OK, maybe I hadn’t lost myself completely. Maybe I’ve just been arrested by the fear that I will lose myself. I feel like a still-wet painting on the blank canvas that life-changing experience gave me. I’m afraid I’ll be smudged, or worse – that I’ll paint over it to match what I think that man wants.

Why is it that I can be so strong in every other aspect of my life, but turn into a jellyfish when it comes to men? What is it about being in a relationship that makes me fear the end of it? Because really, the core issue here is a fear that the person will leave me, finding whomever it is that I really am unacceptable.

And it hits me. Smacks me between the eyes. Every relationship that I have conducted in this manner has been codependent. And there’s the answer to the question I’ve been struggling with all week. I have a major fear of codependency. I watched my very sweet, but very alcoholic, father and my mother remain in a codependent relationship for 20 years. I listened to my mom cry after my father’s binges and say that she couldn’t leave him because she loved him and needed him. Needed him.

All of this hemming and hawing and distancing myself this week, wondering what it was that made me so willing to become whomever someone else wanted me to be if it meant that they would stay with me – I was struggling with my own codependency issues.

The irony is that anyone could’ve told you that I would have a problem with codependency. Lots of alcoholics do, so I feel a little foolish for feeling so “aha!” about it. Growing up publicly can be embarrassing, though effective.

So, what’s my solution? I simply need to remember that whether or not Date #4 and I stay together or not, that I’ll be OK. I don’t need him, and I have nothing to worry about – I loved being single. If the man weren’t such a damn fine catch, I would still be single (I had a lot of fun and it was a bit brief, in my opinion). The great thing is that I don’t need him – but for now, I want him. And he wants me. Should one or the other of us not want the other in the future, then that’s fine. I know that this relationship will make me a better person, whether it’s a brief experience or a lifetime. He has a lot to offer in the way of teaching me what a healthy relationship is; along with a few more things I’m sure.

You see? I’m already learning.