My wedding ring and I have a strange relationship. When I’m at home, I often pay it no attention, abandoning it on a random shelf as soon as I walk in the door. It never sleeps with me or sees me naked. I won’t let it eat at the dinner table and it certainly never gets . . . → Read More: One ring to rule me]]>

My wedding ring and I have a strange relationship. When I’m at home, I often pay it no attention, abandoning it on a random shelf as soon as I walk in the door. It never sleeps with me or sees me naked. I won’t let it eat at the dinner table and it certainly never gets to hang out during sex.

However when it’s time to leave the house and go out in public, I am absolutely lost without it. On those days where I cannot remember which one of five random shelves has been graced with my white-gold, sad excuse for bling band, I find myself sometimes hiding my ring finger when surrounded by strangers, lest someone see me as not married or worse … with a wedding ring tan line (a sure sign of cheating, some would say).

My relationship with Ringy started out pretty rocky in the early days. I really resisted having to hook up with a wedding ring for a few reasons. First, I really didn’t think that having one was necessary to be married. It’s like I was ok with actually getting married, but still an activist against all of the traditions that came along with it. Second, we were poor. Spending money on a piece of jewelery that I assumed I would inevitably lose seemed like a complete waste of good resources. So Steph and I did our very best to get the almost cheapest rings we could find.

We spent $150 on a simple white-gold band for me. A figure that we decided was ok to have to spend again should we have to replace it. (so far, we haven’t.) And somehow, seemingly against my will, Ringy and I are stuck together.

When I’m out dancing or looking at cute boys – and girls – I can’t not wear the damn thing. If I’m in one of those moods where all I want to do is make out with a stranger or maybe more, there’s something that makes me feel uncomfortable not wearing that identifier. When I sometimes take it off and put it on my necklace I feel amazingly cheeky, like a nine year old boy who’s just found his first Playboy magazine. Those casual hook ups I sometimes want would likely be much easier if I didn’t have the strong desire to point out “Hey! I’m married! I’m ALSO non-monogamous! Hope you’re super cooooool with that!” from the get-go. In fact, maybe there actually would BE some casual hook ups because I would likely be more relaxed about the whole situation.

(As a side note; lately there have been a severe lack of casual or serious hook-ups. 2011 has been a very boring, yet interesting, yet tragic year in my non-monogamous life, but that’s for another blog post … or auto-biography.)

Good ol’ Ringy here holds a sick power over me. I would love to chalk it up to sweet sentimentality and something along the lines of; I just have to make sure I’m always wearing my ring because it shows how committed I am to my husband and how I love him more than life itself and we will always be together and it is a symbol of our love and affect …

barf.

Not that I don’t adore Steph. Not that I’m not completely committed to him, but if I dig deeper into my relationship with Ringy, I highly suspect that we will find insecurities ruling this twisted relationship. For some strange reason, our formative years can often have more of a hold over us than recent times – perhaps because we haven’t lived as long then, so teenage angst takes up a much larger percentage of our overall life then vs. now – Anyway. In MY formative years I was never the girl in a relationship. Boys didn’t want to kiss me, or maybe they did and I didn’t notice. Without getting into the whole “poor me” routine, I was a bit of a tragic, single, third wheel, fat kid for a long time and that persona has stuck with me, albeit under the surface, for years.

I never grew up caring about getting married one day but now that I am? I have to make sure that when I’m out in public my persona is that of married woman. Like I’ve succeeded at relationships. “Ta da, look at me! You all thought I was a looooser, but Ringy and I are joined at the hip now, bitches!”

I suspect part of it is that I find it more amusing to tell people I’m in an open relationship AFTER they find out I’m married because they sometimes squirm more and boy, I love a good squirm. Maybe it is simply insecurities that make me cling to that ring, and even buy fakees to store in the car in case I do forget ol’ Ringy in the bathroom. I don’t know, and I suppose it doesn’t really matter.

Maybe I just like those times when I’ll catch a guy on the subway looking down my cleavage and I’ll slide my hand slowly in front of my tits, just enough to show off that evil, lovely band and bring a little Catholic guilt to a strangers face.

I’ve been thinking about he and I, and he . . . → Read More: Gooooooo Team!]]> For whatever reason, there’s been a lot of chat lately between friends, strangers and I about my relationship with my husband and I’ve been doing some thinking about things I’ve known for years. Questions that I’ve been asked have caused me to reflect on where we are now.

I’ve been thinking about he and I, and he and other people and myself and other people. I’ve wondered about being “enough” for him and what he gets out of relationships with other people that I can’t give him. And then I stop myself because I know the answers.

What he gets from others is the opportunity to hang out and be with them. They add value to his life by being who they are, not because they are “not me”, though that’s certainly an obvious statement. It just kinda’ goes without saying. They might click differently than we do, but that doesn’t take away from whatever we have together. And if it highlights something in us that isn’t working so well, while it’s tough to accept, once you overcome it, it can be a catalyst to work on problems within, together.

It’s tough to feel good for your partner being happy elsewhere when you’re going through things yourself. I’ve dealt with my fair share of insecurities or other relationship issues and trying to turn my own inner attention away from “me me me” and recognizing what we both need is challenging, but necessary.

And really, it doesn’t matter if you’re open or not. Whoever you are, it’s important to remember that, if you’re in a relationship, you are part of a team of more than one person. You have your needs and desires, but so does the other person. Not everything will go according to plan and not everything will go according to what makes you happy, first. But can there be happiness in compromise?

Absolutely. The strength we get by gaining control of our insecurities and owning them can help us come to the table with a clear mind and a clear heart. When we know that something is holding us back or causing us to feel pain, we can stand up for our rights, ask to be respected, but also be open to hearing why someone else may feel differently than we do and learn a new viewpoint to things that previously were quite self focused. When we feel insecure about not being a person’s everything we can reach out and ask for reassurance. We can be reminded of our value and our importance in each other’s lives.

My happiness is not based on if Steph chooses to be with just me or with other people, but instead it’s based on the life that we build, together. Ensuring that we are respected team players, secure in the knowledge that we support each other as individuals and as partners.

However, I’ve come to the conclusion that maybe I should start . . . → Read More: Y. Oh Y.]]> Unlike riding a bike, dating for me, is quite … unlike riding a bike. It’s not something I can just pick up again because there are so many factors like state of being, state of relationships and state of confidence that come into play each time.

However, I’ve come to the conclusion that maybe I should start at least consider dating again; men that is. I am really missing having another man in my life. As much as I lust and love after my husband, I cannot deny that other men bring a new emotional and / or sexual energy to my being that I haven’t connected with in a long time. To be honest though, I am pretty sure that the idea of dating again completely terrifies me. I don’t remember how to flirt with someone new and I’m pretty convinced that I don’t think I can be bothered with the whole “getting to know you” stage … again.

Plus, as much as I am trying to tell myself that I *want* to start dating men again; in reality, I just want my other two relationships back as they were. I miss them both terribly and feel like they’re both just floating in the ether and I can’t reach them. While both situations are very different, they happened at the same time and have both left me feeling empty. (Thank fuck I’m super busy at work and have other amazing people in my life that take me out and adore me or else I’d be a complete disaster.) The attempt to be friends with Don, which, while very difficult for me, I thought we were succeeding at, seems to have failed with no contact in a week after an intense email exchange. And while I remain hurt at Crush’s complete nonchalance about disappearing for so long, I’m also frozen at the idea of talking to him about it. What if I’m being too harsh? Or what if I’m right? It’s likely closure I need in both cases, but I feel like as soon as I get it, I’m slamming the door on possibility. And this fills my throat with a lump at the mere thought of it.

That’s another reason I’m scared to date. For the majority of my relationship with Don, I didn’t want to date any other guys. There were a multitude of reasons behind that, but the main one was that I felt fulfilled and just had no interest. I felt no craving for extra male energy so when Crush came along, it was a surprise to me that I fell down that rabbit hole. By now considering dating guys as a possibility, it’s like I am admitting total defeat and waving my white flag when it comes to accepting that things are no longer as they were.

Going back in time a few years, my relationship before this was six months long with S, and my “dating” phase before HIM was a BDSM discovery phase, which was certainly very, um, different than your standard first date, first base adventure. (First date, home run, whatever.)

The point is, I don’t remember how to be only in one relationship with a man – being my husband, of course – and meet a new guy as it has been a really long time since that has happened. When I met Crush, I had the security(?) of Don behind me and while I have two gorgeous and wonderful women in my life at the moment that bring me a lot of happiness, I have always found there to be distinct differences between dating men and dating women. While dating a lot of new people was something I was more comfortable with years ago when we opened up, now I feel full of fail at the very thought of it. My failure at keeping relationships healthy with two men I care deeply for has really kicked my confidence square in the nuts, despite the fact that I may be / have been helpless to save either of them. (note my not wanting to choose a tense there, as I don’t want to make assumptions on the status of either of them). Although I have met plenty of men and women that find my larger body size sexy and appealing, I have also stopped believing that the type of men I am attracted to might also be attracted to me. I can’t really explain it, but whatever that confidence was stored inside of before has cracked and now it has leaked out and disappeared.

I refuse to believe though that because I have suddenly reached this point in my life where I am very professionally confident for the first time ever, that I cannot have both this and personal confidence. I know that it’s up to me to just … fix it. I need to woman up, kick myself in the ass and be happy with myself again. I have done it before, although I haven’t been up against such strong interior and exterior demons. I need to date if I WANT to date, not because I feel I have to. But if I do find out that I want to, then I have to make myself available to do that. There’s nothing that says I must get into emotional relationships with people; although those types of gigs do follow me around. Why not consider casual and simply enjoy a sexy romp or two or seven? Either way, I will have to find time to write messages, meet people, ask people out, or respond if they ask me. I have to accept things about myself that will never change and either begin again to make changes on the things I can, or accept that I’m probably not going to. I have to not be afraid of rejection because its after effects have had me in their clutches for far too long and I am suffering for it.

I have to stop assuming that the cute boys I might want to get to know want me to go away. If they do, then I will. But what, I ask myself, if they don’t?

Maybe I’ll consider finding this out.

I will always remember my mum telling me those words in our kitchen when I was about 15. I don’t think we were talking about anything serious at the time but for some reason I held onto that knowledge – that my mum would . . . → Read More: I’m Here. I’m … ?]]> “I don’t care which way you swing, Samantha, as long as you’re honest.”

I will always remember my mum telling me those words in our kitchen when I was about 15. I don’t think we were talking about anything serious at the time but for some reason I held onto that knowledge – that my mum would love me no matter what – because I must have known that my sexual identity would play a major role in my life in the years that followed.

I have talked before about how I don’t like labels and believe they belong solely on soup cans, and I suppose other grocery store items if you insist, but this post speaks to my recent discoveries and realizations about labels and identifying not only myself, but others.

For the past however long I have told myself I am bisexual, if I had to fit into a category. But really I’ve never been completely comfortable with that identity. I’d rather say that I’m a 2.78 Kinsey, meaning that I can have relationships with women, as well as men, but they likely need to be open because there’s .12 of me that just loves cock too much to be monogamous. That – and I’m built for non-monogamy anyway.

Bisexuals get a lot of flack though which is why I haven’t been comfortable with it always, especially as a non-monogamer (yes, I just said that). Not only can she not decide between girls and boys, but she gets to be with ALL of them, how DARE she!

Frankly, attitudes like that have to stop. We need to stop hating on others because of how they choose to identify – or not identify – themselves. Bisexuals get flack as well for reinforcing the binary that there are only two genders, but that’s not fair either. One could say the same of the straight and gay communities, that by choosing “one or the other” that they aren’t including all of the other delightful genders that make up the spectrum of human sexuality. And not everyone that is bisexual is only about being with cisgendered people. While the opportunity has not come up for me, I’m pretty sure that I wouldn’t have an issue being with someone whose bits and pieces didn’t match their perceived gender identity. It might be tough as first, but not for any reasons of prejudice, simply because it would be something new that I have not yet experienced.

As long as people are sexy, cool, giving and awesome … I could care less what’s going on between their legs. Including an obvious sexual attraction, it’s what’s between their ears that matters to me.

I understand how “bisexual” doesn’t really seem to be the right choice of words to express this viewpoint and this past weekend, while speaking / attending the first edition of Momentum in Washington, DC, my views on the word “queer” started to change.

To start with, my travel companion identified herself more as queer than bisexual which threw me for a loop. Perhaps it’s a matter of ignorance or lack of exposure – though often they are one and the same – but when I’ve heard the word QUEER in the past, I have always associated it with LGT but never B. I felt like being bisexual was already being viewed as taking too many liberties and attempting to claim a queer identity wasn’t my place. Nor do I think I ever wanted it to be. The word queer often brings up thoughts of activism, fighting for equality, theory and politics. It has never clicked in my brain as an umbrella I can stand underneath.

And then I spent the weekend surrounded by a community of people that exuded their sexuality at every turn. I spent more than a few minutes in public with a beautiful girl and felt no qualms about showing my affection for her in public, surrounded by a fantastic array of  awesome and supportive people.

It was unnatural how natural it all felt.

Eventually it hit me that while at home I feel quite straight and married, out with her I can feel totally bi and with others there are various degrees of – let’s say – Kinseyness that I experience depending on the relationship. Outside of being a fan of people, genitals and connecting, my identity fluctuates with every relationship I take part in but they all fall under one, beautiful queer umbrella.

I can be femme and be queer. I can be an activist for the mainstream that wants to feel comfortable entering communities that can seem terrifying and be queer. I can eat vagina and I can eat dick and I can be queer. I can have sex with myself or with five people at once and be queer. I can wear a wedding ring or rope and … you get the idea.

On the way home from Washington on Monday I confessed that I was worried telling my husband that I’m queer. I thought he’d feel like I left him for the weekend, had all sorts of sexcapades, and was leaving him for a hot butch. Was this a coming out fear that I was having and if so, what caused it? I think the answers are yes and again, ignorance. He didn’t seem to be phased by my new identity as the parts that made it up are still the same as they have been: People, check. Genitals, check. Bingo bango.

When I was talking to a student of mine yesterday, telling him that I was queer, he replied with “Of course you are, duh.” like I was a dummy for not being aware. I couldn’t deny that his answer surprised me, but upon further reflection … I’ve just never really thought about it and he was right to react that way.

Now do I feel the need to walk up to people and say “Hey, I’m Samantha and I’m queer.”? (outside of writing this blog post) Of course not. I won’t deny the privilege that I get to live, living a hetero “normal” life on the surface, and I certainly wouldn’t want to take away from anyone else’s long term battles for equality and fair treatment but on the flipside I have had my own internal struggles making the “in public” transition from straight and married to “Hey I like fucking chicks and dicks, maybe chicks with dicks? I can’t say one way or the other.”

Everyone deserves to love and be loved however they want and with whomever they want and I hope that there’s some room for me under this umbrella because I’m here. I think I’m queer. Now I just have to get used to it.

Thanks for reading,
Samantha xo

Further Reading: Bisexuality does not reinforce the gender binary.

Join us in Toronto this November 5 and 6 for Playground, taking a multi-faceted look at sexuality and relationships. Early bird tickets are on sale now and speaker submissions are still being accepted!

Seeing is believing, right? If only that could be the case all the time. I used to have a huge problem with knowing something about myself and still believing the exact opposite. This often affected my self-image. In fact, it was mainly ONLY related to my self-image. No matter what I knew, whatever I . . . → Read More: Knowing is literally only 1/2 the battle]]> (Thanks GI Joe!)

Seeing is believing, right? If only that could be the case all the time. I used to have a huge problem with knowing something about myself and still believing the exact opposite. This often affected my self-image. In fact, it was mainly ONLY related to my self-image. No matter what I knew, whatever I believed was always the thought that possessed the most control over me.

You see, as a bigger girl, I never believed that I was worthy of a love as a teenager and as I became an adult. I also knew at the same time that thinking those thoughts was ridiculous. I was completely worthy of love and eventually one or many would come along, but at the same time I knew it, I also did not believe it one bit. Confusing, yes?It took many years for me to merge my two ways of thinking. My knowing and believing streams finally crossed at some point and became one form of thought. I don’t know when it happened, nor do I remember what caused them to finally get along, they just did one day. Occasionally they would separate for an hour or a day, here and there as I suppose they needed to take a break from certainty and happiness to really appreciate what they had become together.

Whether it’s finding out I’ve lost some muscle and gained some weight, the winter blahs, or side effects of the break(up) … it seems that Knowing and Believing are in a fight once again, currently in a temporary separation. I have started looking in the mirror and not liking what I’m seeing. I struggle with clothing, finding anything that I like as it seems my muffin top appears in every pair of pants or on top of every skirt. In photos I am noticing that my face is larger, my arms thicker and my smile smaller. This part is actual fact, not me being crazy but I still wouldn’t have been so affected by it before.

Outside of my appearance comes the breakup insecurities. I realized this morning that I have been avoiding trying the “friendship” route with Don because I feel that staying in constant contact with him means two things: 1) I’m showing that I’ve accepted and am ok with us as just friends and 2) that he won’t miss me if I’m around. It’s a self-preservation mechanism, I suppose. When we text and joke and things seem happy I reach this point where I am suddenly very conscious of our interactions and feel the need to pull back, to avoid him thinking that everything is ok. I hate having that urge.

I know both of these things aren’t true; he’s even said so, and yet I can’t help feeling them. Also, while I know I wasn’t dumped for anything I had done, or any bad feelings he had about me – in fact completely the opposite as he needs to work on his life focus before we can possibly be together again – I still feel it.

I feel discarded and unwanted. All of the standard break-up things that people go through, I am feeling – even though I know from his mouth directly that I am way off base for feeling them. I seem to have lost my ability to remember what someone has said to me, then hold it up as fact and instead am allowing my insecurities to wreak havoc on my mind and stomp on any sort of truth that is trying to survive up there. I think it’s mainly the way that it all went down – very traditional crappy break-up. The new dynamic we’re attempting for now doesn’t match up with those few days of shit, but for some reason I can’t seem to get past that and look at things with a clear head.

So what can be done to fix it? Well, it’s nothing that other people can really help with; this I’ve learned over the years. My work life is currently super hectic, stressful but amazing and I have plenty of fantastic things to look forward to, this year and beyond. I am always grateful for the compliments given to me by my amazing friends and internet strangers, and I know that they are true or at least you think they are . Working on believing them again though, that part is up to me. Perhaps it’s a matter of connecting with my sex drive again. Maybe feeling some muscle or losing a few pounds would make a difference. Or maybe one day I will simply wake up to discover that while sleeping, Knowing and Believing have made up with one another and I can once again be at peace.

Whatever the solution is, I hope my brain finds it quickly. I’m done feeling 15 again. Mama wants to have some fun!

(PS: Writing this blog post has actually allowed me to feel free of a lot of this so maybe this was a good first step.)

Let me bloom

Now . . . → Read More: Life In Limbo. Let Me Bloom.]]> I haven’t blogged in two weeks because there really hasn’t been anything to say. I have felt no inspiration to offer dating or non-monogamy advice, nor have I had any interesting stories to tell. In short, my life is in limbo and I’m just waiting to get out of this purgatory.

Let me bloom

Now I know as much as the next person that life is what you make of it, and I firmly believe that – to a point – we are in control of our own destiny, but here’s what is keeping me here lately:

Steph has had the flu / bronchitis for over a week now. We spent about 4 days sleeping in separate beds and haven’t had sex in weeks because of that, my breakup, sickness and other things that have just gotten in the way. Yes. I haven’t had sex in weeks.

Crush is super busy slash stressed at work and home and we barely talk anymore, not for any reasons of dislike at all though. When we see each other for a quick drive home on Thursdays, he’s distant, stressed and I wouldn’t call it quality time. Once he gets over this busy time at work and gets renos done on his house and finally moves out, things will get better, but for now it’s just a waiting game. I feel for him right now.

Job related, there is something that sounds guaranteed for me at the college where I teach so this is a huge positive that I’m psyched about. It sounds perfect for me, planning a fantastic annual video game / creative event, while still getting to teach but until I know more and am sitting at a desk with a paycheque in my hand, it’s another thing to wait for.

My confidence has taken an absolute beating lately. I haven’t worked out very much and I can feel the muscle fading away inside of me. I don’t mind being a big girl if I feel strong, but now I feel weak, unhealthy and flabby. I’m working on changing it slowly, but it’s a slow burn wait that is adding to everything else. My confidence in who I am as a person has been wavering lately as well, but I think that is just a side effect of the breakup, being unemployed(ish), not yet finishing my book and winter blahs.

And then there’s Don & I. We are currently in breakup purgatory in this weird friend zone, even though I told him that I couldn’t do the friends thing. We have talked about getting back together but right now I support his need for time and to figure things out, but add this waiting time on top of everything else and I feel stuck.

Tied down and stuck on this slow conveyor belt of life where all I can do is sit here and let it take me down the path it chooses. I feel surrounded, but lonely. Stuck in limbo waiting for time to release me and let me bloom.

When I quit my job last June to finish writing my book I thought it would happen a lot faster than it did. Throw in a long visit from my mum, the suicide of a friend and a depression that followed, and well I’m still a few pages away from finishing.

I had assumed that by spring . . . → Read More: Get Samantha A Job]]> <shamelessselfpromotion>

When I quit my job last June to finish writing my book I thought it would happen a lot faster than it did. Throw in a long visit from my mum, the suicide of a friend and a depression that followed, and well I’m still a few pages away from finishing.

I had assumed that by spring 2011 I would be possibly back in the working world, though I admit being out of it and creating my own way – as an adult – has been eye-opening. I am working, teaching video game development at George Brown College one day a week. I adore teaching and college salaries are very generous, even if you’re only working one day a week. I hadn’t anticipated that I would be definitely be teaching though, as I only found out about 15 days before I started.

The problem is that that gig ends April 21st and while I can return in September if I want to (which I won’t deny wanting to, at the moment), I’m lacking for income until then and am open to seeing where I might end up instead. I don’t lack for drive – I’m teaching workshops, speaking at Momentum and planning my own sexuality conference, Playground, this November. (More on this in another post.)

So a little shameless self-promotion and I’m looking for a job. I’m not going to put my resumé on my website, but I will list some skills of mine and the rest you can see on LinkedIn. I work much better in creative industries having worked in numerous ad agencies, design shops and being part of the video game industry for 4 years now. I don’t really do corporate well – I’m covered in tattoos, and work better with a smile than big words that mean the same thing as their smaller counterparts; but make you sound smarter.

I excel at working with people and couldn’t work another job that didn’t have people as a large component. Ideally, I want to be a producer / biz dev gal, but whether it’s working as a producer, an event planner, an assistant or a teacher, my common goal is to always help people excel and be the best that they can be at their jobs. That’s my strength, making everyone shine whether it’s being behind the scenes or working on branding / pr / marketing strategeeeeez.

I’ve got other mad skills in writing, backend site development, design and more so if you know of anything in TO, part or full time that might be a good fit for an unapologetic, sassy broad like me, send it my way!

(Just kidding, I’m ridiculously apologetic … it’s the English-Canadian in me, I can’t help myself!)

Check me out on LinkedIn! and if you’d like my resumé, email me.

</end shamelessselfpromotion>