The Come-With: More Isn’t Always Merrier

a sidewalk painting of a pixellated frog (in the style of the main character icon for the arcade game Frogger)
Image by David Drexler / CC BY

Skyspook had been away for a week at a conference. Only 2 hours away by car. But between my work schedule and his networking commitments, it could very well have been 20.

I tucked my head down like always. Kept myself busy. We texted and even Skyped when he had a spare moment. And the week passed without event.

Omw home, about to leave, Skyspook texted.

Yay! I texted back, followed by an embarrassingly long string of heart-laden emojis.

FYI, I invited K & B over to hang out and drink wine with us. If I hit traffic or an accident or something, they might get there first. 

I frowned. Sighed heavily. Okay, I texted back.

I set the phone down in my lap.

It would be great to see our friends, sure. But I missed him. And what I had been really looking forward to? Was reunion sex.

The Come-With

2001

“I hope you don’t mind,” Seth said, pulling back the glass door.

“Mind what?” I said.

And like that, I was face to face with Seth’s best friend Bob.

“Hi,” Bob said.

“I invited Bob.”

“Oh,” I said. And waving at Bob, “Hi.”

My heart sank. I thought that Seth taking me to dinner tonight was a date. I’d been looking forward to romantic time for us. But he’d invited Bob to come along with us without telling me.

Bob smiled. He was sweet, geeky, painfully shy. Seth and Bob had known each other forever. Since grade school. And Bob was one of those rare people whose hearts were completely pure. He was basically a puppy in human form.

There was no way I could kick a puppy.

So I did my best to be polite. Not rock the boat. Or make Bob feel unwelcome during dinner.

When we got home, Bob and Seth adjourned to the basement couch for a rousing bout of Dynasty Warriors on the PS2. I sat and watched but fell asleep waiting for Bob to go home so that I could give my boyfriend a blow job.

All Frogger Ever Wanted Was Quality Time

It would become a pattern with Seth. I’d be looking forward to one-on-one time, only to be ambushed with a come-with situation.

“Why are you always inviting your friends to come with us on our dates?” I finally asked.

He looked at me like I had said something foolish. “I like spending time with my friends.”

“But what about one on one time?” I asked.

“I figure the more, the merrier,” he said.

So I timed my sexual advances in the spare moments we had alone, feeling like Frogger darting between cars.

More Isn’t Always Merrier

I run into these issues a fair bit now that I coach polyamorous people: “Sure, I’m seeing him once a week, but my metamour is there half the time. What kind of quality time is that?”

“Of course I meet her for drinks after work, and I’m all excited because it’s been a week and a half since I’ve seen her, and she’s invited her coworkers to drink with us. So I get to sit there while they talk about work shit I know nothing about. While I have a million personal things I want to talk about.”

And while in general, I’m a big fan of kitchen table style polyamory (in which folks all know one another and even hang out and see each other regularly), sometimes?

You just want to have some alone time with your sweetie.

 

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