The Katamari of Kink
“The reason I’m into polyamory is because no one person could be into everything I’m into,” he says.
“It’s not the whole reason I’m in the polyamory, but it’s a reason I’m into polyamory,” he clarifies.
It’s evident, the breadth of his interests. In the time I’ve known him, I’ve figured him to be a kind of Katamari of Kink. Rolling one curiosity up after another. Bumping into lots of things, sure, but always growing. Even if it’s only a millimeter at a time.
Sickness at the Love Buffet
Other times, I think he’s just gorging himself at the all you can eat love buffet. Heaping his plate again and again. Dishes that were never intended to mix haphazardly as they pile upon his plate out of sheer space concerns. It all kind of flows together.
He eats until he is sick, gets sick, is hungry again.
And it depends on the day how I feel about it. On the negative days, I judge him before I’m even aware I’m doing it. Even though it’s really none of my business. And I carry that judgement around with me.
“And how are your thirty-five girlfriends today?” I ask him, curtly.
I mean it as a kind of sweetness. An in-joke. But it comes out barbed instead. He rolls his eyes in way of response.
I don’t know why I’m doing this. What my problem is. I’m polyamorous, too. Why do I react so negatively to his approach differing from mine? Am I only practicing monogamy plus one? Or plus two?
Who died and made me arbiter of the number of relationships a person can balance successfully? Or the judge of what constitutes a “real” relationship?
I have three partners right now. At one point, I had five (three of which I considered primaries at the time). I knew those connections were real. Important to me.
I try to remind myself of that. To look upon his social ambitions with benevolence. But still those judgments keep invading my thoughts. That his eyes are bigger than his stomach, his heart is bigger than his attention span.
And I hate that I feel this way.