PUBLISHED: "The Pandemic Ruined My Poly Relationship—But Saved My Marriage"

My new piece, "The Pandemic Ruined My Poly Relationship—But Saved My Marriage," can now be found in the MEMOIR section of Narratively. Swoon! 

Of all the things I've written over the years this, by far, reigns as the most personal. And yet still, I'm tasked with the awkward duty of self-promotion. 

So while I'm at it, and since I'm allowed to complain and qualify and hem and haw on my own damn blog: I patently deny writing that essay blurb on Narratively's homepage — accompanied by a questionable title, and some biographically inaccurate illustrations — but, hey, if you can get over it, dear reader, then I probably can, too.

Now here's the part where I drop the link, run away, and hide forever....

Full story: https://narratively.com/the-pandemic-ruined-my-poly-relationship-but-saved-my-marriage/

Feature for Juno Magazine: Love After Childbirth

So proud of this feature for Juno Magazine, my first paid lifestyle byline, about the challenges of motherhood and marriage when they first butt heads. 

I'm not saying I have all the answers—or any answers, for that matter—but the response I got to this article was touching. It's so clear that not enough of us talk about the issues facing new moms, not least of which are those that relate to the care, feeding, and upkeep of a new-parent partnership. 

All I know is that when we do talk about subjects like this, a lot of us feel less alone. Enjoy.

8 Things 'I Love Dick' Got Right About Non-Monogamy

One weekend I binged-watched a show I wasn't even sure I liked, and had so many thoughts about it they got written down and published on Bust.com. Righteous! 

The unmarked box

It came in the middle of the day, when the mail wasn't due for another hour. A sharp knock on the door announced its arrival.

Through the curtains Nancy anxiously waited for the delivery man to leave, as she'd specifically requested no signature. The thought of having to explain or make excuses about the package's unusual size or heft felt wrong, intolerable.

But there was no question what it contained. Nancy had been anticipating this moment for weeks. Now that it was here, however, she felt a bit shy. She held off.

She wanted to look just right for the occasion. Both comfortable, but intimate. After all, if Nancy got her way, and let's be honest, she probably would—then they'd go straight to bed. Nancy slipped on her favorite silk robe and drew the blinds shut. She triple checked the doors.

Life would be different now, with a partner. Someone who would listen, and offer support. A real relationship, even if wasn't exactly "normal" by most standards. But what the heck did normal mean, anyway? Discretion would be paramount of course, but she was no stranger to secrecy. Nancy's late-in-life realization that she was more attracted to women was only half the story.

Flushed, excited, Nancy finally got up the courage to unpack the crate. And when she removed the styrofoam protecting Angelica's head, it took her breath away.

She was just as she had been ordered, every detail to spec. Lush pink silicon lips, real human hair styled into a punky bob. Her shape, exactly Nancy's type, held supple breasts and yes, anatomical parts correct, detailed and delicate. She was outfitted in the standard issue tank, stockings, and flirty skirt, but it was her eyes, soft and understanding, and her lovely, welcoming mouth that Nancy felt herself falling in love with, already forming words and sentiments in the husky, sweet voice in her mind.

Her fascination with dolls began early in life, but grew to a nerdy enthusiasm well beyond childhood. And as she got older, her affection for female bots and dolls (or as they were called when they became more life size and sophisticated, Gynoids), was for decades, a source of shame.

It was only after divorcing her second husband and moving out on her own, her career stable, that she felt more comfortable exploring the fetish. It was not long after that dating, even lesbians, in all its banality, began to feel pointless.

After all, dolls were people without any of the unpleasantness of their organic, flesh and blood counterparts. A synthetic would never lie to you, cheat on you, or criticize you. They were always in the mood for what you wanted to do, never had to get in the last word. For all practical purposes, it was the ideal relationship.

A few smaller, more experienced dolls had introduced Nancy to the scene, but she always had her eye on the end-game: a deep and loving relationship with a gynoid synthetic human. She had already accepted that few in her life would take the partnership—and if things went well, inevitable marriage—seriously. But she had no choice, she was ready for the next step. So for six months, she saved. And now Angelica was here.

Nancy pulled her girlfriend gingerly from the unmarked box, changed her into a more comfortable outfit, and poured them both some coffee. They had most of the rest of the afternoon to get to know one another, and the rest of their lives to be in love.


photo by Hans Bellmer

Tonight's monsoon

It rained all night.

The leaking from your eyes kind,

the pounding kind.

The kind that makes you fight.  

Unlike a clean rain that clears the air, unlike a fog of mist that quenches thirst,

a long rains wears you down and wears you out and saturates the ground

until it’s done absorbing, done understanding, and can’t help but flood out.

When it rains this much, it's hard to concentrate.

It feels like the world might drown,

that there's no room for breath,

that you can't escape the room.

What, under normal circumstances, can be lightened,

takes its heaviest form and falls uncontrollably,

a torrent of insults,

tit for tat

pitter patter and just like that,

the storm strengthens.

The bile rises in your throat and breaches your lips before you can think,

before it makes sense to say

before it leaves a mark.

You spit like a cornered snake and all you can think

is that

it must stop raining,

it has to stop raining,

this leak needs plugging

Or, the soggy mess left behind will stagnate and mold,

you will rot from the inside out and

the damage will be done.

When it rains all night it’s best to cover up

take cover under covers

hide out in small places

find rooms with no windows

until it’s safe to come out.