1. This my first post and while I have another blog I need one that remains anonymous to protect everyone else involved. And lately it seems there have been many others involved. So there we were that day, in the kitchen, my old lover and I. He was there on some business, art supplies I am passing on as I am changing mediums, and it was all fine. We haven't been lovers for months, since summer at least, he has a girlfriend now and I am happy for him. But that day in the kitchen we chatted for a bit and then I got to the business at hand because why dally really. I should mention he is one of my favorite boys. He's good looking in a skater way and he's an artist who seems to fear making art. He seduced me with artbooks the very first time but that's a story for another day. I love to look at men and the smell of them, the timbre of their voices, it all gets me. My problem with many of them tends to be the drivel that comes out when they speak but not this one. So I'm trying to be respectful of the situation as I would hate for him to think I used this art supply thing as an excuse to lure him into my den so I could eat him. He told me about the girlfriend last Fall and due to the fact that they are both quite young it goes without saying that they have a monogamous relationship and I don't cross that line. I get to the point, show what I have, how it works, it is awkward for me to have him there so why prolong it. It is a sunny day which is unusual for January in the Pacific Northwest. He is leaning against the counter, in front of the dishwasher. He takes my arm, pulls me in to hold me, I'll take the hug. Human contact is lovely and my girl and I just broke up mere days before. Hugging is not something I'm good at, it's more intimate than it would seem and I am often unwilling to expose myself. I try to pull away and he just takes me back into the embrace. I am in the moment, my head on his shoulder, I watch the day move by out the window, the sun such a gift, I am grateful.Who knows what came next, his hands on my breasts, my nipples, through my shirt, that gets me every time. He places my hand on his erection in his jeans, I moan, having once had a working knowledge of his cock. I know I cannot go there and he isn't surprised. A condom in his pocket, he thought of this before he came and I did as well. He calls me bad, I am a bad girl, a bad influence, something along those lines, and it displeases me.Why does sex have to come with the good and bad labels? This sex is good and right where that sex is bad and wrong. I tell him in my world, these things aren't bad, that my girl made out with another girl last week and I asked for the details. I am not bad because he chooses to be mongamous. I am a sexual creature but I know where the lines are so which of us is bad? There is more to the story, we didn't fuck if that's what you're thinking. When they break up he will call me and probably not before then because he is living with shame and I am grateful that I have chosen another way. When he leaves we sit outside and he tells me I bring out the best in him, of course I do, and the worst. It hurts me to hear that, to have that label put on me. Am I really bad? Is it wrong that I will speak honestly and openly about my desire? How do I go about finding others who feel this way and support me in my choice to live as a poly woman who has never been in a poly community? This isn't about wanting to or getting to fuck everyone I meet. It is about wanting there to be possibility and honesty. I used to be the worst offender. I was jealous and self righteous, if you love me then you can't be attracted to anyone else and you certainly can't touch anyone else because I will kill you or at least leave you or slap you before I storm off. I thought that's what love meant. As I got older and had more experiences with people I couldn't get more intimate because of my own rigid rules, I started thinking maybe that old model didn't work so well. Then one day in Toys In Babeland in Seattle with my then girl I came across a book, I'm sure you know what it is before I even say it, The Ethical Slut, and when I read it gave words to my feelings and I knew I belonged somewhere. So for today it is only a poly life in theory but the practice piece will come.