It's like a Spin Doctors song or something. A pair of men in Atlanta were thrown out of the apartment they shared with 1 of the men's wife for fighting. Evidently, the husband and wife were going at it, as husbands and wives do from time to time, and the other guy got jealous and started a fight.
Carrie and I hadn't even been on the highway for an hour when the fighting started. We were in my little Honda Civic hatchback, puttering along I-76 East, en route to Baltimore. She'd been giving me a stone-faced version of the silent treatment, and even though I'd tried everything to get her to open up – begging, pleading, cajoling – I wasn't having any luck whatsoever. Occasionally I would get a sarcastic comment in response, or a mean-spirited laugh. I almost blame myself for what happened at the rest stop. I was opening the Honda's hatch to look for a sweater, and as I leaned deep inside the car, Carrie caught a quick glimpse of my boxers – specifically the elastic waistband that was peeking out from underneath my jeans.
If it weren't for the rules, and the willingness of two people to respect each other by following those rules, alternative relationships would simply self-destruct. It would be relationship anarchy. Occasionally, the rules are even broken. And sometimes that's ok, too. After all, every hook-up is different than the one that came before, and so with that in mind, all romantic and sexual encounters should probably be judged independently of one another.
woman looking in the mirrorBeauty is a curious thing. More accurately, the perception of beauty. While reading Violet Blue's most recent piece for the San Francisco Chronicle, I sympathized with her as she endured countless negative comments from readers—specifically those of a personal nature, such as her physical characteristics, rather than her writing or opinions. Our own contributors, like "Marriage Without Monogamy" writer Dan Eldridge, have experienced this mean-spirited jabbing, which seems so much easier when hidden behind a keyboard. Long story short, her column brought up a good point (from a burlesque dancer, no less) when it comes to beauty and judging such fragility...
In the vast majority of instances, those of us involved in open relationships are by no means swinging naked from the chandeliers at all hours of the day and night. We are not diving headfirst into a writhing group orgy every Friday and Saturday after work. We are not necessarily in the practice of shagging perfect strangers in the men's room of a dark-lit club. In fact, being in an open partnership hasn't been about random sex so much as it's been an incredibly intense emotional education.
Our hero gets engaged to the girl of his dreams, a friend of a friend who just so happens to hate the concept of marriage, and who prefers the convenience of an open relationship. Here, how the "marriage contract" materialized.
Our hero gets engaged to the girl of his dreams, a friend of a friend who just so happens to hate the concept of marriage, and who prefers the convenience of an open relationship. Here, an introduction to their not-so-traditional first encounters.
