The Rigger cut our ropes

When he said nothing but a return to monogamy, relocation, or death would break us up, I should have known he was lying.

I’m not The Rigger’s “type”. I’ve known that from the beginning, but I was willing to give “us” a chance. He told me that he didn’t want another submissive girl, he didn’t want to have to take care of someone, he wanted a woman that could take care of herself; someone that was his equal, someone that he could be himself with – his whole self. I fell for it; hook, line, and sinker. Sure, part of the problem is that I wanted it so badly to be true, but he’s also very good at making women fall in love with him. I’m not being petty either, he told me that one night as we drove around St. Louis, looking at old buildings that he loves.

I don’t think there was any malicious intent on his part, but keeping it from me wasn’t the kindest thing he could have done. For the past month there has been a distinct lack of intimate contact from him. There were hugs and soft kisses, but no passion from him at all. At first, I thought it had to do with the death of his friend, but yesterday something made me question it. Aside from sleeping naked beside him, our “date” was more like two friends hanging out. He put me in rope, but left me fully clothed (like any other play partner) and didn’t touch me afterwards. He woke before me to a phone call, but never came back to bed. Then he spent the entire morning texting with a new girl that needs a caretaker. When I left his place, it felt like he had to remind himself to tell me he loved me and because of that, I wept the entire way home.

It took me hours to decide whether or not to bring up my concerns, but I knew I couldn’t wait any longer. He obviously wasn’t going to say anything, so it was up to me. I texted him three words: Are we ok? I didn’t hear from him for five hours. After the first 30 minutes had passed, I knew the answer, but I waited anyway. (I’m a masochist, after all, and I wanted the pain.) When he answered, he confirmed everything I’d been sensing. He said he no longer felt passion for me. He said he still loved me, but wanted to feel like he couldn’t keep his hands off of his partner.

I’d like to say that these statements surprised me, but I can’t. He’s always commented on the beauty of babygirl, how he can’t keep his hands off of her, how much he wants her, etc. At one point in time he told me I was beautiful, but that stopped long ago. In a recent discussion he said that “an accident of genetics” was the reason that photographers didn’t ask me to model for them. That’s not really a statement you want to hear from a man that you love.

There are so many things he said and did that I’ve been replaying in my head for the past 24 hours. I think that’s the worst part about a breakup; the rewinding of time and the echoes of past words and deeds. It’s almost impossible to recall the good times right now, and when I allow myself to do that, the pain is almost unbearable. I can’t think about the happy times right now. I have to focus on all the hurtful things that he said and did. I have to focus on the unkept promises; and there are many. I’m focusing on the disappointments, the tears he caused, the bad pain. There is nothing I can do about the lack of passion he has for me now. I am nothing more than a failed experiment in his life, and he in mine. I hope that one day we’ll be able to be friends again, but not right now, not for a bit.

Thankfully, when you live a poly life, there is (usually) another partner there to help assuage the pain. I’m extremely lucky that I have two. Both Panzer and The Biker spent the evening consoling me, telling me how much they loved me; helping me to focus on the love I have in my life instead of the hurt. Without them I’d be a miserable wreck of a woman right now instead of simply morose. But I’ve still lost my friend – the one that helped me through prior breakups, the one who helped me see the good in those that caused me pain. That hurts me more than knowing he no longer desires me.

So, it’s time to rebuild my walls, strengthen my defenses, and hope that I don’t fall for the same tricks again. Every time I’m hurt I become more of a cynic, I become more withdrawn, I make it more difficult to see the real me. I worry that someday I won’t even know who I really am behind the public facade.

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2 Responses to “The Rigger cut our ropes”

  1. Evil Laugh Guy Says:

    I don’t know if thus anecdote will help or not, but here goes…

    One of my first real meetings with my now-wife was when I walked into Denny’s with some friends and found her crying over her breakup with him. While her friends tried various platitudes to cheer her up, I looked at her and said “You dated _______? What were you thinking?!”. Shocked, she stopped crying.

    I’m sorry he hasn’t grown into a person who can be with you.

    • Thank you E.L.G. I’m sad too, but it just wasn’t meant to be. I’m hopeful that we’ll be able to mend our friendship in the next few months.

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