"I don't know. I just know I want you to kiss me," she said. And I did. That was one year and seven months ago and she has been my girlfriend ever since. I'm still married, of course, and adore my husband, Christopher, as much as ever. But since that very first kiss, I not only haven't had any other lovers, I also haven't wanted any either. After my husband and I opened our marriage about five years ago, I had a handful of other lovers. It was fun. And it was exciting. But it was never love. After just a short time with Jemma, I knew it was something different.
I have gotten in the habit of calling my relationship with my husband an open marriage, strictly for lack of a better term. But it wasn't until I met Jemma that I started calling it polyamorous for one very simple reason. I love her. When I started seeing her, my heart expanded just like when someone has a second child. As much as the expectant parents might worry that couldn't be possible, it is. There is no shortage of love to go around when there are people around to love. What a great word. Polyamory. Many loves. Who wouldn't want that? Of course, I could hardly believe it was possible myself until I was in it. Wouldn't I fall out of love with my husband? Wouldn't it be a scheduling disaster? What will my kid think? Aren't I just immoral or a slut or a freak?
But the truth is I love Christopher as much now as ever. Nothing, not even scheduling, is a burden when it comes to love. Emily, my daughter, thinks Jemma is my best friend, nothing more and nothing less. And she is. I don't tell Emily about my interest in porn or my toy collection or anything else about my sex life. And that's the only part of my relationship with Jemma that I'm keeping from her, for now, and rightly so. She knows I love Jemma and she loves her too. And my husband adores her as well. She often comes over for dinner or spends the weekends at our place, playing scrabble with me, watching Hannah Montana with Emily, or talking wine and recipes with Christopher.