As an artist, I always dreamed of living outside the realm of normalcy.
When I fell in love with three different men and we agreed to embark on a polyandrous lifestyle I thought I had hit the jackpot.
I figured my life would be three times the homemade filet mignon, massage, barrage of compliments and great sex than it would be with just one partner.
What I got instead is high blood pressure, arthritis, lower back pain, chronic headaches, something my doctor calls Lou Gehrig’s brother’s disease – a sagging of the eyes (also he didn’t have a brother) – and a lack of hope in the future and the decency of man.
Little did I know a relationship with three men would primarily be cleaning haystack-size piles of pubic hair, flushing un-flushed toilets, standing in urine, shouting at them to remove their shoes when they enter the foyer & picking up stiff socks.
I thought this would be progressive, but the only thing that’s progressing is my aging face. I ran into a girl I went to high school with and she thought I was her math teacher (!) … who – hello – died our senior year!
I’m three times as tired than when I was single and I have more laundry than a Chinese laundromat. In fact the Chinese laundry woman said to me, “You have lot more laundry than whole store. Don’t break machine.”
At first it was everything I had fantasized about. We traveled abroad, we continued to learn and grow creatively. It was a house of intellectual exploration. We would discuss science, art, politics and the sex was mind blowing.
Now we mostly play a game called Where’s that thing?
“Honey,” they call out, “Where’s that thing?”
How many boyfriends with graduate degrees does it take to find a thing? I then have to stop hand-washing their shit-stained underwear for a second to help their helpless asses find the damn thing they’re looking for, which is always right in front of their stupid faces!
All three of them have pantry blindness!
The salsa is always on the second shelf of the pantry! They open the fucking door to the pantry and all of a sudden they can’t see what’s in front of them!
Oh and the sex? I have to be on top every time while the TV is on, I have my second boyfriend’s dick in my mouth and am jacking off the third. After they’re done they ask me if I had an orgasm & when I say, What do you think? You think I have hand and mouth orgasms?
They go, “Sorry, jeesh. Well don’t you have that thing?”
They mean my vibrator. Yes, I say.
“Then just use that, right?”
Then I ask them to hand it to me and they, of course, ask me, “Where’s that thing?”
You must be wondering why I’m sticking with this. They’re good people deep down. They just don’t know how to wipe their asses or care about another’s feelings, but I just feel like with enough understanding and patience they can change. People change, right?
Written by Jilly.
