I am a Christian. I am a gay man. Here is chronicle of my symbolic journey west, toward adventure, challenge, mystery and ultimately peace.

Thursday, July 28, 2011


What to do? What to do?

The relationship with "the guys" continues to be a
crazy experience. I so enjoy their company, but at some point I am going to wake up to the obvious realization that I am putting WAY too much energy into a sinking ship here.

I can see the pattern for myself: they sort of do what they please, on their schedule, and I take what I can get. Now I don't mean this in a mean way. They are not malicious, at least not purposefully.

But the pattern is clea
r: I love the time I get with them. I love every minute. I find myself counting down days and hours and minutes until we have some time together. It's right next to insane. And here's the really crazy part: I suspect they do the very same thing.

And yet, our actions toward each other don't support the anticipation. For example, they recently took a vacation of their own, without me. Any time their schedule presents a conflict for us, I lose out on the time together. We get to be one group of 3 people sharing life when we are in private, another group when trusted friends are around, and another group altogether when others are around. It's not fair; someday my mind and heart will BOTH accept that.

These are guys who routinely move heaven and earth to remove obstacles. They rarely let circumstances get the best of them; it just does not happen. I watched us back when we began to fall in love; on a whim, they called to say they missed me and would travel back to my town the very next weekend to see me.

I had a huge event last fall for which I had been preparing for months, and it all culminated in a big event several states over. I found out two weeks ahead that they had made preparations to be there, and to support not only me but many of my friends too.

But circumstances got the best of us; barriers exist that prevent us from ever being a polyamorous triad. I do not happen to understand those barriers because I view them as rather selfish, especially given the promises we all made to one another to journey together. But we won't be a family, and that breaks my heart over...

and over...

and over...

and over...

and over.

So I have been noodling on what I do next. What is best for the Journeyman?

I have no fucking idea.

On one side of the aisle is my conviction that I stick with this in the incredibly slim hopes this could come back together. But months after "the breakup," I am best served by giving up those hopes. So then what?

Be friends, or part ways altogether?

I realize that I absolutely love them, singly and together. I realize that I love myself when I am with them. I realize that I am having an awful time making plans for a life without them as partners.

Being friends sounds so nice and sanitary. Yet I cringed this week when I visited them and I spent the night in a guest bedroom. I hated it. And not because I needed wild rock-star sex. I just wanted to be close--or closer--than I was allowed to be.

I want more than this relationship can sustain, and being near them is so much harder than I expected. I keep seeing myself as part of their world, and I am almost certain they do not see it that way. They are moving on; I am not.

So what's best? Moving on completely? Breaking all ties? It brings me almost to tears just to consider it.

Yet how will my heart learn that those two aren't family unless I kill the relationship completely?

Sunday, July 17, 2011


Major breakthrough for me this week...

I have a hard time moving on from things and adapting to change. I can do it, but only after some kicking and screaming. With this last relationship, there has been a lot of kicking, screaming, digging in heels and doing whatever it takes to keep it alive.

That could be tough because perhaps I should learn to on more quickly. But, what a gift, to remain so steadfast that my point of view and my goals did not change throughout this unorthodox relationship. Even now, I am still maintaining my original position, that I want to put our relationship back together. *That* should be admirable, and lend stability to an otherwise tough situation where some of the others made promises that were later broken and changed rules midstream without much consideration for how those would fully play out.

I never miss an opportunity to feel bad about myself; it seems I self-flog my own self repeatedly. For once, I found a reason to like myself, and I sort of like this new approach to find even small positivity in myself. Good for me, to be steadfast. Seems a lot like how God would want it.

Saturday, July 09, 2011

"I wish I knew how to quit you"

(I have maintained quite a bit of anonymity here, though I suspect what I write about next will tip a few folks off as to who I am. So if this rings a bell, I just respectfully ask you allow me to remain anonymous.)

How do you quit somebody? Or somebodies?

In my last post, I lamented losing a boyfriend. However, that's not quite what I lost. Instead, it was two boyfriends.

Somehow, someway, without notice and without seeking it, I fell in love with a gay couple. And they with me. And it was good.

So good that I got lost in love all over again, and this time twice as bad because there were two guys. I wouldn't have gone seeking this, but I cannot help who I love, and I was willing to explore it. Unfortunately, we did not all see eye-to-eye on the future and on sacrifices and on supporting one another. And it was over.

On the breakup alone I could write and write and write, which I have in my journal.

My thoughts today revolve around a complete inability to move on. I still want them. I suspect one of the two guys also wants to continue, but dude #3 has closed the door in his mind. He has moved on. So the two guys are back together, but I am out there on my own.

We continue to communicate regularly because once I commit to something (and in this
case, I committed some extraordinary energy to making this relationship work), I stick with it. My word is everything. In my head, I continue to hope that we will come back together. I continue to dream about this great future in which the 3 of us tackle life, just like we said we would. I continue to honor the promise we made that we would not leave each other alone, that there would be no distance between us.

Yet on this very day, I am alone and without them. And they are on a vacation, without me.

"I wish I knew how to quit you."

I want to shout it from the top of my lungs. I want to cut off all ties and communications and scream aloud how wrong this is that I am alone again. I want to be angry, and then in the very next moment, I melt with memories of the triad we were and the tenderness that existed between us.

They brought some amazing things out of me, and I rose up out of a depression during our relationship. People who barely knew me asked why I was so bubbly and positive. Life decisions that had confounded me for years were starting to come together. A chance for a new career, a chance for a new place to live, a chance to receive love, a chance to shower my love onto two other people. Amazing stuff.

The affection, the fun, the exploration, the positivity, the companionship...ah, the companionship. It was more than I ever thought I deserved. So perhaps I fulfilled my own prophecy.

I cannot give up hope that we can get back together. Yet there is no evidence that we can ever be together. Dude #3 is not in favor of getting back together, and this is not a majority rules situation. We need 3 YES votes to continue forward.

Bad as the situation looks, I keep thinking about how great things could have been, and how crappy they have been since. And although there is so little hope for us to be together--to be a true Modern Family--I keep clinging to that virtually non-existent sliver of a promise of a chance that we can reconcile. I knew who I was when that relationship was great, and I loved me then. I know who I am now, and I like it a lot less.

So we keep talking, and I keep looking for clues that we can get back together. I hope we can experience a miracle of rekindling that great relationship. Yet it's not going to happen. In my head I know it; in my heart I refuse to admit defeat.

And so I torture myself. Continuing to stay in touch, hoping we can make it happen. I get a little hope up, then it goes away again. It's like tearing a bandage off my skin slowly, repeatedly, and experiencing the pain over and over. My friends all way, "Haven't you broken up with these guys 4 times by now?" In my mind, I have, because I catch a glimmer of hope and then I am crushed all over again when it doesn't happen.

I had dinner with them last week. I counted the hours and minutes until I could see them. Now they are on vacation for a week, and we have no way to communicate. It's crushing me; I wonder if they even remember me.

I wish I knew how to quit them.