The coalition of the willing

Posted by Lex Konrad in Relationships | Sep 28, 2004

For all the frustrations it causes, monogamy has the advantage of simplicity. You date, mate, marry, move to the suburbs, inflict your hellspawn on the world and then, with any luck, settle into a comfortable, mutual contempt. The roadmap is a given; it’s simply a matter of finding the right traveling companion.

Deviate from this path—into swinging, open relationships, triads, vees, quads, tribes and so on—and your options grow exponentially. You may find yourself a little confused at your newfound freedom. Be forewarned: there is no roadmap; there are no established cultural expectations to lean on. Creativity is a must.

Leslie and I took Layla out to dinner at our old standby, Cafeteria. For a while we talked about the usual things—jobs, birthdays, weddings, volunteer work, brine shrimp. After the entrees arrived we launched into a frank discussion about relationships. I’d expected to squirm in my seat, this being the sort of conversation Les and I don’t usually have with our lovers.

Layla sat opposite from us, talking across a low table, perched on a giant egg in a position that kept her legs apart. Pity she was wearing jeans. She had a slight drawl that crept in at the edges, something faintly outer-borough in her inflection. “I’m content right now,” she was saying. “I feel like I can handle at most one man, one woman and one couple. I feel almost like I’d be cheating on you guys if I slept with another couple.”

Leslie smiled and touched Layla’s leg. “That’s so cute.”

“I’ve lied before and that made me unhappy with myself, so I’m trying to be completely honest with everyone I’m seeing. They both know about you.”

“I try to be open too,” Leslie said. “I know Lex writes about what’s going on with us but I see that as separate from my own conversations with people. It’s hard sometimes, how some people know more about my intentions than I do about theirs.” For a moment I wondered whether things would be different if Layla hadn’t read my scribblings. Better? Worse? Hard to say.

“Sometimes I’m insecure about my lovers—I wonder what they’re up to when I’m not around—but I never get jealous of you and Lex.”

“Maybe you don’t like us that much,” said Leslie.

Layla chuckled. “No, that’s not it at all. You have each other and I don’t want to interfere. There’s a boundary… less risk for me somehow.”

“We’re an open book,” I said. “I only get jealous when I don’t know what’s going through the girl’s head… when there seems to be a disconnect between her words and actions.”

“Do you ever feel like someone’s using you to get to Leslie, or vice versa?” Lay asked.

I poked at the ragged catfish remnants on my plate, then rested my head on the padded partition. Thought of the others. Have I learned anything yet, or is it the same old merry-go-round? “That’s usually the case. It’s unrealistic to expect someone to like both of us equally, but still—”

The girl’s pretty face brightened now. “But I like you both equally.”

“Then you’re a rare woman. Still, you know what I mean… you’ll see different things in each of us, I think.”

I went out for a postprandial smoke, the conversation echoing in my mind as I watched New Yorkers flutter to and fro. The boundary she mentioned—what if it were no longer in place? I still felt a little strange, at a loss for words: fucking is easier than talking, after all. But maybe if more people had conversations like this, if people didn’t take the roadmap as a given, then… who knows? When I returned Les and Lay were carrying on and smiling. They had changed positions; it was my turn on the egg seat.

“We were professing our undying love for each other,” Les said, giggling. She put on a more serious expression. “Just so you know, I told Layla we want to get to know her better. I thought you might want to add something.”

The girls were watching me intently, waiting for me to say something. I felt myself loosen up a bit. Cleared my throat. “I like you. Leslie obviously likes you. Neither of us wants to be your keeper—you have your own life and your own relationships. Shit, this is still new to us, something the three of us are going to have to figure out together.”

“I do think I want to find a partner eventually,” Layla said, “but I’m young and I’m in no rush right now.”

“Well, when you find that man—”

”—or woman—”

”—right, right—you’ll have to decide how important this part of you is to your happiness. Either way, we aren’t going to disappear.”

“Lex and I will still have our fun,” Leslie said, “but I wanted you to know we’d like to have something deeper with you.”

We fell silent for a moment. I finished my drink and glanced at the check. Layla shifted in her seat, frowning pensively. “Have you guys thought about how your lifestyle will change once you have kids?”

“I used to think that would definitely be the end of it,” Les said, “but we’ve met some swinging couples with kids. Obviously we’ll be much less active… I’ve read about alternative families but that’s a lot to take in right now.”

Lay smiled. “Kids, say hi to Auntie Layla.” We all burst out laughing.

“Good grief,” I said. “Let’s not worry about that just yet.”

And so our experiment began. Not for us the silent yearnings, the unspoken bitterness that defines so many relationships, but a forthright collaboration. The three of us were co-conspirators, for better or worse. It’s not that I was without my doubts, just that I was willing to set them aside for now. Willing to have a little faith.

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