I Thought Polyamory Would Fix My Marriage
The story of my relationship with my husband
“Okay. Let’s start dating other people”, my husband said after we finished appetizers.
I met my husband, Jay, in front of a nightclub in two thousand four. We were both recent grads. I had a shady job selling carbon fiber centrifuge rotors, and Jay was unemployed. I didn’t care that he was jobless — he had a great smile, wide shoulders, and kind eyes. We talked for hours in the club's outside smoking area that night, missing the headliner and the rest of the party.
Over the next few weeks, I desperately looked for any excuse to spend time with Jay. It seemed that I was more into him than he was into me, but I didn’t care. I had an agenda. I planned to date a nice guy, marry him, have a couple of kids, celebrate holidays in large family gatherings, buy a house and plant a tree. The unsuspecting Jay didn’t know it yet, but I already designated him to be the nice guy within my plan.
I was determined. I organized occasional run-ins and a tennis match with a couple of friends… I texted, and I called and demanded his time. I never gave him a chance to figure out whether he actually wanted to be with me.
