Love and hope

This is a deeply personal post. I hope that people who wrestle just the same will feel seen. I hope that by opening up I am raising awareness, give others a voice, help them find comfort. I have wrestled to balance how I feel with how I am seen. I couldn’t understand why, let alone anybody else. I had to feel vulnerable, exposed and broken before I could get to the bottom of it. This is no playbook. This is a tale of acceptance. A journey to feel comfortable in my own skin. A journey to stop compartmentalising my feelings and start becoming whole again.

I have been in a long term relationship for almost 9 years now. Cohabiting for almost all of them. Prior to this one, I had been engaged on the back of a 5 year relationship. My very first relationship lasted for about 3 years.

I know that marriage is important to my partner. I have friends, relatives, relatives of friends, asking the ever persistent question. “When will you get married?”. Why don’t I want to get married? Why haven’t I felt a strong urge to get married? There’s definitely been a few flashes where I got a genuine feeling, even romanticising the idea of getting married.

Why am I resisting then? I used to believe the reason was because I didn’t grow up living in a lovely marriage. I am raised by a single mother. Did that mean I am incapable of creating a “family” home? Can I ever have a home that feels warm, cozy and safe? I have dreamt of “family” dinners at a kitchen island table.

I also used to say, even argue, that marriage is not important to me. What’s so important about getting married? Am I not committed enough? I can clearly commit. I have spent close to 20 years in long term committed relationships. Or maybe I can not. After all, marriage is a declaration of a lifelong commitment. What is it then that is holding me back?

I remember as a teenager, asking family and family friends how they decided to get married. “Where you in love? Did you feel you had found “the one”? I found their answers disheartening and baffling at the same time. Out of half a dozen, no-one said to me they were married because of love. That’s not to suggest they didn’t love their spouse but it sounded less like a motivating factor and more like a prerequisite.

• “I got married because I wanted to have kids.”
• “I got married because it was time.”
• “I got married because we have been living together for so long.”
• “I got married because I knew it would make my parents happy.”

I said to myself I would never do that!

I am hopelessly romantic and a sucker for a good love story. I believe in eternal love. Love brings me peace and calms me down. Love makes me feel safe. I love taking care of others. I am clearly able to take care of others. I am a very loving, caring person. According to my Sister, I am an “empathy well”.¹

One of my biggest fears is ending up alone. People that I care deeply about or develop an intimate relationship with will abandon me. In some ways, this is an irrational fear. I don’t have reasons to believe that either my mother or my Sister will leave me. However I can’t claim the same about friends or romantic partners.

In the past, I have severely constrained my self expression. I had to learn to balance and express my feelings and needs over those of others in fear that they will think bad of me, the relationship will break down or worse abandon me. This need to connect with others and form a bond at a deeper level even extends to co-workers and the work environment. In a professional setting, this translates to some form of higher loyalty and strong work ethic no matter the personal cost.

It’s only been in recent years that I have become better at articulating and communicating to people how their actions make me feel. How their actions hurt me. What I would like from them to do to make me feel better. I have been conditioned to think that men should not bring their feelings to work or anywhere for that matter². I couldn’t even fathom the idea of telling my manager how some action they took made me feel. Why would my manager care how I feel? What chances do I have of being heard when you factor in power dynamics and imbalance?

Back when I got engaged I did it because I knew it was important to them and I thought it was essential for my relationship to last. It wasn’t important to me so why make a big deal out of it? I felt like a failure when my engagement broke down. I had collapsed under the weight of expectations on my shoulders. The collapse was abrupt, disorderly and left a pile of mess like a house of cards. I was asleep at the wheel.

That was almost 10 years ago. I met my partner soon after. The night we shared our first kiss I felt overwhelmed by my emotions. I cried as we kissed. Tears of joy where running down my cheeks. I could love again. I was not broken. I was happy.

In the days, weeks and months that followed I was like a teenager that falls in love for the first time. I wanted to be with her every minute and every hour. She was constantly on my mind. I wanted to take care of her. Funny story. A few weeks into our relationship, her home heating broke down in the middle of a Scottish winter and she got a cold. I asked her to come and stay over. I would check on her, make her breakfast, go to work, come home, cook dinner.

Since then, our relationship has faced hardships and endured against the odds. One story comes to mind in particular right now. At the time, I didn’t pay too much attention but now that I think back to it, I get a sense it might have meant more than I made off it at the time.

One day, me and my partner were out buying vegetables from the farmer’s market. A man, who we had built a relationship over time buying his and his wife’s produce, dropped the question. “When will you get married?”. I explained that neither of us³ is interested in getting married.

The next time we saw him, he made an offhand remark with his wife present. “If you don’t marry her, I’m gonna marry this woman”. Referring to my partner.

Generally speaking, I avoid confrontations. Instead I typically try to find resolutions. However, in this case, I was at a loss of words. I believe I may have felt guilty and ashamed. How could I honestly have any say in the matter when I didn’t feel like getting married? I chose to brush it off to the side.

Days later, it happened again. “I’m gonna marry this woman”.

At this point I decided to confront the bully and come to think of it, taking a small step towards facing my guilt and shame head on.

• “Don’t you ever say that again.”
• “Why?”
• “You are being disrespectful to your wife who is sitting next to you. You are putting my partner in an awkward situation. You have little regard for my presence. You are embarrassing yourself.”
• “She doesn’t speak the language.”
• “It does not matter.”
• “I don’t care what all of you think.”
• “If that’s how you like it then, that’s how it’s going to be.”

We had been living in Greece for 3 years at that point. When we decided to leave London, it was meant to be only for a year. I was living on borrowed time and I had started to miss London. I really did not want to be in Athens. I knew my partner loved Greece. Would she want to be with me in London? I was too scared to ask. I didn’t know how to express that feeling so instead I chose to reason.

• “There are better work opportunities in London. Our finances are tied to the UK. The future is more promising there than it is here.”

As I was going through the motions, in the back of my mind there was this nagging question. Will she choose to be with me? Does she want to share a life with me? A life in London?

I finally mustered the courage to ask.

• “Would you rather be in Athens without me or in London with me?”
• “I’d rather be with you in London than without you in Athens”.

At that moment, instead of staying vulnerable I opted to put my guard up hence denying myself feeling loved.

• “Ok. I just want to make sure that you really want this. That you do this for you, not for me.” I said.

What a cruel thing to say. This has stayed with her to this day.

From a very young age, I learned how to be resourceful. I was very much autonomous on a day to day basis growing up in the centre of Athens while my single mother was running her beauty salon around the block. Chances are I was more self-sufficient and independent that your average ten year old.

I now believe that being around so many women at the beauty salon is the reason why I feel so comfortable being indeed around them. Way more than being surrounded by men at a gym locker which resembles a feeling much closer to being agoraphobic. Whenever I go back to those early years in my life I do so because I want to feel safe and loved.

At the age of 10, my mother decided to get married for the second time. The following exchange⁴ has stayed with me:

• “Mommy, I don’t want you to get married”.
• “You are not going to tell me what to do”.

Looking back, this was a character defining moment. The first time someone I cared about and was dependent on had dismissed how I felt.

For the next 4 years, I found myself trapped in an household with a bully stepfather. I had to tip-toe my way around him. Whenever he was angry, I would try to reason with him. I was faced and dealt with some nightmarish scenarios. Some, still echo to this day. Living under these conditions I developed skills that enable me to adapt, navigate, shape and influence my environment. I’ve gone down this path for so long that I feel a strong urge to control my environment. These skills have since become essential to my survival and a core part of my behaviour.

Living in that household my feelings were being constantly and consistently invalidated. Over time, I was conditioned to think that how I felt either did not matter or would lead to no demonstrable change to my environment because how I felt was never acknowledged. This feeling was also driven and reinforced by my mother who was being blind and dismissive to the effects that my stepfather’s bullish behaviour had on me and his impact on my personal development as a child growing up. It didn’t help that the rest of the very few boys and men in my life rarely expressed their feelings and emotions. In the rare occasion that they did express their feelings, that expression was less in the form of vulnerability and more as a sign of aggression⁵.

Opting to exercise control versus communicating my feelings in an effort to influence my environment has created a massive imbalance in my life to this day. Only in recent years I have been able to recognise its negative effects. For all the steps I have taken in life, this aspect has been detrimental to both my personal and professional development. Being indifferent to how others feel or tackling every problem I am faced with in life with a strong willed solution has not always served me well. Unsurprisingly, this has made me cruel to an extent. At times this cruelty comes off so strongly as if I completely lack any empathy. I used to think I was lucky to have never done substance abuse or developed any sort of addiction. I have only recently come to realise how cruel I’ve been since my teenage years and how much pain and suffering I have caused to others as a result.

Yet it is key to understanding who I am and how I operate. For others it can be disruptive and challenging. Especially those who want to connect with me at a level that is more than surface level deep or must, due to professional reasons. For me, it feels like a constant juggling act to find a balance between reason and emotion which often leads to a cacophony that sounds confusing to intimate relationships. Anyone who chooses to engage with me has to grasp, deal and accept that side of me.

It took me a long time to learn to rely on others. It didn’t come easy. It took me a long time to involve others into my life. Letting go of control so that others can be part of my life; hoping they would want to be a part of it. Involving others into decisions and matters that have to do, as I saw it, with my survival meant I had to allow myself to feel vulnerable at the risk of others rejecting me.

I felt that rejection in the eyes of the man who I thought was my father. He never loved me and I could never understand why. I struggled with that feeling of rejection. I internalised it. I remember thinking, why am I not being loved? What more do I have to do to get that man’s love? To be accepted as a son? As a human being despite my failures?

Last year, I finally made it back to London. Since coming back, I have been trying to build my social circle and life back up from zero. Even though London is a bustling city and most people are friendly, it’s tough forming deep connections, keeping in touch and ultimately becoming friends with strangers.

I started using “Meetup” and “eventbrite” looking for events to socialise. I was skeptical at first. I had to really push myself and make an effort to go out and meet people. You meet people from all walks of life. Some are there to make a cold sale. Others are there to grow their professional network. There are some that are looking to make friends, to have a drink. Naturally some are also there to meet a romantic partner with a committed relationship in mind.

I am really bad at chit-chat. I prefer to engage in deep conversations. When I meet someone, I take interest in learning about them. Their life stories. London is so multicultural there is always something to learn from someone new. People who are self centred, not actively participating and not curious bore me. When I am in a good mood, I like to be playful, to quip and banter. I love it when I say something to someone that takes them by surprise. I see their eyes light up. They become even more engaged in the conversation. Even best when they come back with a witty remark or throw their curveball that I have to catch. This type of conversation makes me come alive.

I also like to flirt. I have talked openly to my partner about this. To be honest, I don’t believe she has ever been frank about how she feels about it but she trusts me. I always try to keep a balance and not take flirting too far to the point where I may be leading the other side down the wrong path. Having said that, there were a few times where I really had to pull back after realising that they are interested in more than just to flirt.

It goes without saying that everyone has a different idea about how far is too far. Surely if you do X, that means Y some will say. In my encounters I have always tried to be upfront about my intentions while balancing my need for privacy. I have always tried to be respectful and mindful without being clinical in my interactions. I also want to protect myself from getting hurt or become too vulnerable by opening up too much. It can be very hard and as I have already admitted, I find expressing how I feel way harder than using reason. Even more so when so far in life expressing how I feel hasn’t been a very successful approach in changing peoples’ mind or behaviour towards me.

In one case, someone got visibly angry at me when I told them that I am not interested in taking things further.

• “So are you looking for a friend or a relationship?”
• “Neither!”

That only made them angrier. Ambiguity does not help people make sense of the world. Ambiguity makes them feel scared and tense. So I did what I know to do best when faced with someone who is angry at me. I reasoned with them.

• “I can’t tell if you are a bad person or not.” they said with a perplexed look in their face as they walked away.

That remark stroke a cord with me and brought back feelings of rejection, acceptance and self worth. Was I a bad person? Was I indeed leading them by manipulating their feelings? Had I become a narcissist? That inner monologue was tearing me apart.

Precious stood out of the crowd in that yellow knitted jumper. She had an air of confidence as she walked towards the group of men I happened to be with at the time.

“So, are you all new to London?” she said.

It was funny because she was neither “new” nor “in London”. She was here on a business trip. She was kind, gentle and curious. She did not shy away and as the night fell I was trapped by her affection and chained to her sway. I could no longer pull back. I let go and lost myself in her arms. I was really struggling to keep my emotions in check by foolishly thinking I could take back control.

• “I am not interested in taking this further. I don’t want to exchange numbers.” I said.

She didn’t seem fazed. I spent the following days desperately looking for her. Contemplating whether to reach out to her or not. What would my “excuse” be for reaching out when the last thing I said was “I am not interested”. Was I being honest with myself or was I lying in an effort to maintain an illusion of control? I relented but with a strong urge to offer an explanation and come clean.

• “I feel like I owe you an explanation why I am back. To be honest. I don’t have a good answer other than wanting to be with you. Having said that, there is something I feel morally obliged to disclose. I am in a relationship.”
• “Are you married?”
• “I am not.”
• “Do you live together?”
• “Yes. We’ve been living together for almost 8 years.”

I could tell she was equally torn. She tried to put her emotions in check only to eventually give up. We were both smitten. It took me a year⁶ to realise and admit to myself that I was indeed falling in love. At the time, I couldn’t make sense of my feelings. I love my partner. I know who they are and I want to be with them. I am committed. How can possibly be in love with Precious? What does that say about me? What does that say about the relationship I am in? I was so conflicted and at times felt so self conscious I felt exposed. Yet I was attracted to these precious moments like a moth to a flame. One day, as we are taking a stroll I asked what she thought of me.

• “You are a heartbreaker.”

Damn that hurt. I think it hurt the most because I believed it to be true and I wanted to be told otherwise.

• “What makes you say that?”, I asked.
• “You are confident, charming, approachable and know how to talk to a woman. You look them in the eye and give them your undivided attention. Most men in my experience don’t do that.”
• “I am just being myself while trying my best to be honest. I don’t want to hurt anybody.”
• “I believe you but that’s neither how it works nor you can control it.”

The day where her work trip had come to an end and she had to go had come. I was trying to be all poetic.

• “How do you think our story ends?” I asked her.
• “I hope one day you are no longer with your girlfriend and we are together.” she said bluntly.

It was a shock to the system. I didn’t want to break up with my partner no matter how much I wanted to be with Precious. That couldn’t be a happy ending for anyone. She quickly followed up:

• “I am sorry. That is a cruel thing to say”.
• “How about they lived happily ever after?” I replied.
• “That sounds good.”

In the months that followed we barely kept in touch. It was hard for both. She was trying to move on with her life and I was trying to burry my feelings deep inside.

Until months later when she texted me to say that she would be back in London for another work trip. This time I showed zero hesitation and just let my emotions run wild. I took quite a beating by my feelings doing some heavy punching. After just a couple of weeks, I remember holding Precious into my arms and struggling to let her go. I was struggling to hold back tears. I didn’t want to lose her. She texted me a few weeks later to tell me she had quit her job and would no longer be visiting London. I thought that was it.

About a month ago, a profound feeling of sadness washed over me. I haven’t felt that level of sadness in a very long time. It felt overwhelming, crippling and impossible to control. I was at a loss. I think what triggered it was losing the vast majority of my support system over a very short period. Both my partner and Sister were away on a holiday; so was my therapist, my trainer, my work manager. Another colleague I relied on at work and was part of the team, resigned. Another one got sick. At the same time my work load increased by an order of magnitude and more people leaned on me for support. I was neck deep drowning while trying to keep others afloat on my shoulders.

I reached out to Precious, asking her to let me talk to her. Understandably so, she was reluctant to. She had since met someone and was trying to move on. I pleaded with her and she was kind enough to call as soon as she could. We hadn’t spoken or saw each other’s faces in months. She looked as beautiful as ever. I could also tell she was torn.

• “We never talked about what happened between us. We put all of our emotions in a box, threw it deep into the ocean and put a tone of bricks to keep it buried down there.” I said with a somber expression.

I watched her as she looked away from the camera, teary, thoughts racing in her head.

• “I don’t know how this could work. You tell me how if you find the answer.” was the only thing she said visible shaken.
• “You just spent the last minutes lost in your own thoughts. You didn’t even say what you want.” I replied feeling both upset and sad.

This was the first time that I had seen Precious let her emotions through even tho she hadn’t said much. Her body language was already giving more than she ever had let out before.

Eventually I found the strength to say the words:

• “I don’t want to wrap a chain around you. I know I have to let you go. It’s hard, it’s sad and it pains me but I don’t have an answer.”

By the time we decided to hang up we were both in tears. I felt like a piece of me had just been shredded. I was aching and had nothing for the pain.

The next day I pushed myself to attend yet another social event so that I didn’t stay alone at home even though I was feeling very vulnerable. For some strange reason, everyone’s commentary felt like a piercing spear going straight through my body and under my skin.

• “You look like a fun guy.” said one.
• “I can see some craziness in you.” said another.
• “I like your style.” remarked a third.

It was such a bizarre experience! With every comment, I felt more and more vulnerable. I didn’t want anyone’s attention. As the day progressed, as a group we moved to nearby bar. I was trying hard to control my emotions but it was in vein. I opened up to someone who I had been talking and had just met on that day. I shared my story with Precious and how I’ve been struggling.

• “You are non-monogamous. She wants exclusivity.” they said without even thinking.

Wait, what?

• “She got what she could out of you and now she is out. She is protecting herself. She wants more and you can’t give her that because you are non-monogamous”.

I instantly felt calm. Is this the answer that I’ve been looking for? Am I non-monogamous? I spent the next day reading up on non-monogamy. Of course I had heard of the term but I had never come across anyone in real life practicing non-monogamy. Most commentary around non-monogamy is about infidelity, not ethical non-monogamy. What does ethical non-monogamy even mean? As I went deeper into the rabbit hole, Dossie Easton’s words gave me comfort. They rang true and not at all strange or off putting.

With this new found side of me, I started to become aware of my behaviour and gradually be in tune with my emotions. In the days that followed, I really started paying attention to both my attitude and feelings as an observer. As long as I wasn’t judging me, keeping the door open, all I could feel was love and happiness. The minute I started to feel shame, instead opting to shut that feeling off, anxiety would kick in, I would hold my breath and I would start feeling small.

I began to realise that this feeling isn’t going away. I won’t become monogamous one day. This is who I am. I have been begging to have my feelings validated all my life. It started to sound like I was also seeking for permission, first and foremost from my self then from others to be accepted. The profound sadness I had been feeling in the last few weeks had suddenly lifted. I had another flash and a genuine feeling of wanting to get married.

Unlike my engagement that broke down in complete and utter anarchy, I wanted to be on the driver’s seat this time. With eyes wide open, driving down the road to acceptance requires going straight though the fear of ending up alone. I knew the alternative would only lead to misery so I stepped on the gas.

I wanted to be open about it with my partner so that I get a chance to fight for our relationship at the very least. I would have to wait for 3 weeks before she’d be back. I knew this would be a shock to her. I know her life’s story. I know her dreams. I know what exclusivity means to her. Still, my hope was that she choses love over monogamy. She chooses a world that I am a part of.

• “I met someone a year ago who I fell in love with. I have come to realise that I am non-monogamous. That does not change how I feel about you. I still want you to be my lifelong partner.”

She was devastated. Her whole world had collapsed before her eyes. I was sobbing profusely non-stop. A wealth of repressed emotions had just bubbled up and my whole life flashed before my eyes, including my childhood trauma, feelings of rejection and starving of love.

The following day she jumped on the next flight to Greece. Since then, we had a conversation where she said that she couldn’t be in a non-monogamous relationship.

• “So you want to break up.”
• “Yes.”
• “I understand.”

This is the first time in 15 years that I am single.

I am still navigating this and I am scared that it will trigger another anxiety and depression cycle. On one hand, I feel I have broken both shackles of judgement and shame, winning the freedom to be myself. On the other hand, I can’t help but think how minuscule are the chances of finding someone who will accept me for who I am. If my partner of 9 years could not, how would anyone who hardly know me will? In a society filled with monogamous relationships do I live on the fringe?

This is the essence of discrimination. Formulating opinions about others not based on their individual merits but rather than on a membership in a group with assumed characteristics.

What are the odds of meeting someone only to deliver the “I am non-monogamous” line. Why would someone choose to be with me in a committed albeit non exclusive relationship when they can choose to be with someone in an exclusive one? No matter how much in love they are with me. How would they react when I try to explain that I may not believe in “the one” anymore but I do believe in “till death do us part”.

“When people have a choice, they will make the one that is easy.” - Dora

My choice is already proving costly. In just one month, I have lost two people that I had become so intimate with and felt deep love for. I expect to lose more in a lifetime. A life too short. A life too small. Now that I have opened Pandora’s box what’s left is the hope that the decision to live a life authentic to who I am eventually leads to happiness. It has to so I can have my “and they lived happily ever after” moment. Otherwise, I don’t know what does.

Related

• The Ethical Slut
• Polysecure
• Building bridges: How polyamory made me a better friend, lover and person