What its like being partnered to a slut

 My partner asked me the other day "What's it like being partnered to a slut?" and then suggested I write about it.

It's been on my mind since then, and I've waffled between writing this and not writing it. I want to be honest about it and try not to color my writing with emotions that I bring to the experience; but at the same time I want to be true to myself and write about those emotions. so this will probably be a very disjointed essay and may not in the end ever be published, due to her boundary regarding my not sharing "dirty laundry" with our peer group lest it tarnish her social image.

That being said I do feel like I have some good things to say about it and then there's the not so good.

In short, the way this has come down, being partnered to a slut has been both a dream to be realized and then simultaneously been the single most demoralizing experience of the past decade of my life. 

I should qualify this by saying that my partner is a VERY successful slut. She can go to a play party and always hook up if she wishes. 

She literally has to sort through new acquaintances and rank them based on degrees of interests.  It's often a joke between us when we have interactions with new people and she says later "I think X wants to sleep with me" lol. 

Of course they do, baby, of course they do.

But let me take you back 2-1/2 years, back to the days when she was not such a successful slut.

It was the 26th of June, a summer day in 2020 - and we all were meeting for a party weekend at a friends house on the lake. It was a girls night extended version and we were supposed to grill, drink, get high and do girly stuff like paint nails and talk about love interests (or so I thought). And for the most part thats what happened. Except for the fact that within minutes of my arrival she set me down on the couch, looked me in the eye and said "heres the deal, if you want to, you're going to get lucky with me tonight, and maybe even with all of us together" (there were 3 of us) "BUT you have to promise me one thing, if we do have sex, you cant fall in love with me"

Considering I was still hurting hopelessly from my first crush that I wrote about in 151 days; I was actually grateful for the NSA requirements of this idea. "Okay" I said "Im down".

That night was one of the greatest nights of my life. I did all of the things mentioned above, AND I slept with two other hot trans women at the same time. We played and were girly and had sex as much we were able; us all being bottoms, and life was great and I felt so... empowered. 

I had never thought that anyone would be into this kind of activity with me - a trans woman early in her journey and who felt pretty unlovable and certainly undesirable.

That night increased my self confidence immeasurably.

So this is the beginning of the story, and the impetus of the dream...

"The Dream" you say? 

Yes. The dream we all dreamed of, to be wildly successful sluts. 

I thought we were off to a good start.

Life was great then. we all had the same dreams, to be loved, and lusted after, and just to live our lives as we wanted to. I had no idea how naīve that idea was then; I, a (then59) year old trans woman. But it felt good just the same.

The mistake I made was in thinking that our "shared dream" literally meant we had the same goals, and were partnered in our belief that we would do it together as we had been; that it was a dream to be sluts together and share those experiences. 

In late September of 2022 I learned that ours were actually in fact parallel dreams. 

We both dreamed of the same thing, in generally the same contexts, but my partner in fact never had intended for me to be included in her dream and vice versa. We would be partners, yes, and we would have multiple partners if all worked out according to the dream; - but the days of shared sexual experiences undertaken just for the sake of "sharing the exploration of our sexuality together" mostly evaporated the day she became a successful slut.

I really wish I had known this was her plan before I broke rule #1 and fell hopelessly in love with her.

It would have been so much easier to accept being sexually irrelevant if I hadn't desperately wanted to be passionately and intimately relevant as her lover.

One of the major themes of this early part of our journey was "The hunt" in which we would go on Grindr, and talk with men who supposedly wanted to hook up, and agree to fulfill their fantasies (and give them the spank material of actually talking to hot women who wanted them), all while they actually had little to no intention of actually meeting up with us.

 

But the validation, as toxic as it was, felt good. It felt good to have the attention.

My partner was invariably more prolific here, and I thought it had to do with her familiarity with the app, as well as her age. I should have taken heed right there - the signs were there - that our experience would be vastly different in the end. But I took it at face value. (It was OUR dream, right?) 

It never occurred to me that despite the love she holds for me, that in the end when true polyamory was achieved, I would often become the liability that was sidelined for the sake of exclusivity. Yes I said that, true polyamory allowed her to be more exclusive; in the literal defined sense of that word. Her conquests became hers alone.

I digress though. 

November 4, 2020 was the beginning of what was to become our polyamorous relationship. My partner and I went on a lovers retreat to Joshua Tree NP to go rock climbing. We arrived at our airbnb that day. We shared a hot tub with another trans woman from the local area. she was very young and we didn't have sex, but I did get frisky with her in the spa. My partner abstained because her agreement with her (now ex) was that she couldn't sleep with other women. Nonetheless, the party reinforced the shared dream idea. "We" statements were used almost exclusively in these early days - there was not really a lot of instances of her using "I" unless she was talking about her failing marriage. This week of romance together with a few other nights and weekends, was what would end up being the only time we got to really embrace and enjoy "new relationship energy" or NRE.

It was 3 nights later that I lost my femme/anal virginity and slept with the first man I had ever had sex with - with the help of my partner.  Angel was his name, he was a medic and a sailor and was absolutely wonderful. This was the dream I signed up for. The two of us conquering the world together. We met Angel through Grindr for what that was worth. One of the rare times it actually worked out to be wonderful.

I remember the excitement driving to Joshua Tree. The promise of the coming week was so powerful. We were brimming with hope and joy and excitement. The NRE was real, and I wanted it to last forever. 

I looked forward to "Playing house" while there at our retreat; because I could never be open with my affection for her when I was at home in mixed company with her and her spouse.

She was still working, and still trying to make it work with her wife. That being said we were talking about polyamory and she was telling me that her wife was interested as long as she slept with no other women, and that she never told her wife when she hooked up with men. It was "Dont ask dont tell" poly, and I DO remember feeling extremely validated when her wife said she was uncomfortable with her and my  relationship because I was a woman.

For the next several months after our getaway, life was wonderful for me; sort of. 

I thought that "dont ask dont tell" was acceptable as a solution to the poly question. 

I dont agree now that I know how it harmed our relationship, but at the time I was naive.

 
Our romance period existed almost exclusively of me bringing lunch to her while she was at work because thats how we could be together unless we were doing extreme sports. 

And after work we usually went rock climbing, or mountain biking, or did community outreach work together. I now realize that one reason I loved those times so much, was because I got her full attention. If we are rock climbing or mountain biking, she isn't on her phone trying to find another partner to have sex with. It's pretty much the only time, except when we sleep together and its lights out. 

We went to several pride events and organized others for our community. I made it a point to include her as much as possible because I knew how her confidence as a trans woman was in its infancy. We attended rooftop parties together, and stayed in posh hotels, and rubbed elbows with the movers and shakers in the LGBTQIA social justice community. I got to literally watch her confidence grow with every event and her identity blossom. I was so proud of her. (AM so proud of her)

I remember a particular party where she told me she felt like Boo, the little girl from Monsters Inc. Toddling along in my shadow while I engaged the people in the room. "Nonsense" I told her. "Youre a rockstar just like me, baby. We are fierce; and a team to reckoned with"

I remember another rooftop party just a couple weeks later where she went rocking a shaved head for the first time. "YOU ARE FUCKING FIERCE" I told her. (She was fierce and always has been) But she was skeptical. 

We strolled into the sea of people on the rooftop of the Canary Hotel in Santa Barbara; and heads turned. In my heels I was a 6'5" Glamazon with blazing red hair; and my Glorious nonbinary shaved-head partner with the slay makeup were a sight to behold. 

I saw her confidence literally grow a hundredfold that night. She became the life of the party and everyone wanted to talk to her. (I had been around a while many times before and it seemed logical that I would be the old news). It didn't hurt at all to see the attention go to her. She deserved it for leaning into the brave goddess, (My ThemPress) that she always had been and I was so proud of her for finally seeing in herself the amazing spirit that she is.

In those days we were inseparable. It was our default to include each other in the invites and rsvp's because we were working together as a couple to become socially relevant. I had no reason to doubt our dream. We were living most of it, (just not the hooking up and getting laid part) and life seemed glorious. 

We did four pride events, and a Trans march together; and multiple after parties, including the trips to big cities, and so on. We were burning through my retirement savings like it was an endless resource; and I was happy to do it - because there was no reason to doubt that it would last forever. 

At the same time we had been developing an identity as players in our local kink community. We had been doing similar things in that arena; showing up, making connections, and being supportive and making ourselves available to help physically in furthering the goals of the community. 

I remember the first exploratorium we went to. It was so wonderful and eye opening. I knew I was aligned with kink; but I never knew I would be respected and valued. I had my own self esteem demons to live down and I will say the inclusiveness of the community at large was wonderfully empowering and supportive. I remember meeting someone who is now a close friend, a nonbinary soul in crimson who appeared so confident, and was slaying hot. We both agreed that to be as fierce as they were was a goal we hoped to achieve someday.

It wasn't until much later that I began to realize that some community members were befriending me in order to get to meet her - That I was the "duff" as it were - the geeky girlfriend that one needed to go through to win the attention of the true rockstar.

Nonetheless, I had great times (and still have great times, because not EVERYONE wants to fuck her all the time) and I know I AM valued as a community member. But ageism is also rampant and sometimes celebrated there (In comments such as "Eww, gross" when it's said that an older woman had the nerve to hit on a younger man, etc) and so on. I get it. I also have my own type, too; and not everyone in the scene is attractive to me. But it hurts to be excluded and even judged simply because of my age and the fact that I haven't decided to give up and just fade away.

But it gets old too. When she tells me about incessant pickup attempts at parties; and I am loathe to identify even a single person that took even a passing interest. This is where our dreams diverge...

As Ive stated before, it started to become apparent when we were on Grindr; but in person, at kink events, when we are both literally rocking fabulous looks in fabulous fetish wear - and the take rate is 100% skewed to the 36 year old, it became apparent that her dream could never be my dream. I am literally too old. and no amount of confidence, or engagement, or fetish wear, or willingness to accept sadism, or, or, or, all of the other things that might attract a sexual partner are tested and tried, it becomes apparent that a 60 year old dream will never be equal to a 30 year old dream.

Thats a fucking hard truth to swallow.

And to add insult to injury, I feared transition for 50 of those years. I thought, that the show-stopper in my dream's dream would be that I was a trans woman; and that turned out to be so far from reality that it is laughable. Cis men want to fuck us. Cis men really want US to fuck THEM. But the bottom line is that being trans is actually a sexual attractant and not a detriment.  But age is universal. Cis, trans, nonbinary, queer, agender, polyamorous, fetish model, sex worker, or any racial inequity holds NO import when it comes to age. Very few young people want to fuck someone who is OLD...

So here I am. Old and glorious, and trans and what the fuck why do I care. 

I don't even know why I care. 

I guess it's because I believed it was an achievable dream and now that she has the dream in her grasp; it feels like MY dream is cast-off. My dream of being part of the glorious realization of two years' work building our social brand, NOTHING matters more than age; and age is the only inescapable fact of life.

And my wonderful slut girlfriend doesn't even understand or feel this; she barely acknowledges the pain I feel at being inadequate and undesirable.

She craves only more, other, different...

In September of 2022, she met someone online that she had butterflies about, preparing for their first date. "Tell her" I counseled. "She has them too; it will be okay" I reassured Her. And I was right. She shared that fact with her new person and in her vulnerability, she was even more endearing; and when she came home to fuck this new body that same night - I IMMEDIATELY KNEW my life was about to change forever. 

She was hopelessly in love - it was blazing in her eyes. I had never seen her look at another human being that way (Including me) and my gut told me as my breath rushed out of my soul, that this was about to be the truest and hardest test of our poly commitment.

And I was about to fail miserably; because I had thought we were already doing the hard work.

In the days that ensued, everything became about the new person. 

I was warned off from ANY feels, ANY hesitation, Anything other than exuberant compersion about the new partner. I was admonished "You agreed to this; if you don't stand behind your word and have compersion for me, we are done" and so on. 

I was no longer the partner in a dream; I was now a free agent in desperate maintenance of status quo.

EVERYTHING became about the new person. EVERYTHING was dropped in order to impress, and romance, and secure this new relationship. It felt like nothing was left for me, save paying the bills and financing her dates.

And I was not the only person to notice this new person's power.  Suddenly the rockstar became the duff. There was now a new rockstar. And My partner was not the focus of attention anymore - her new girlfriend was. The insatiable pain slut that everyone wanted. The fresh blood so to speak. Sometimes my partner was bypassed for her GF on their second date; when another new play partner basically swooped in and convinced my themme to personally deliver the new cis girlfriend to a dungeon in the Bay Area for a week of every kink imaginable.

Nevermind that it conflicted with one of my surgical prep appointments,  That's what I do - I step aside for the others who matter.

I admit, I did get some satisfaction from the knowledge that she was now feeling the sting of being cast aside; of being the old toy as it were. She felt the pain of not being the focus and I pointed it out ("feels different when its happening to you" and was told "You're just being bitchy about it". So I never pointing it out again. And honestly I did my best not to take pleasure in her pain when others used her in this way; I just stood by to pick up the pieces when she shattered.

Even that empathy has become a problem though; because as someone who is literally always there to love and support, Ive also become the faithful dog who will sometimes get kicked as well. 

What's it like being partnered to a slut? They get lost in the hunt, in the prey drive, in closing the deal and in those moments, they don't care how their needs eclipse yours. That's how it is. They lose sight of your relationship whenever theres a new opportunity for another partner or some nsa sex. OR the opportunity to have more sex with an established partner.

In a therapy group I realized that during that few months, my partner will fuck literally anyone but me.

That's how it is.

In that same group I realized that my partner is only attracted to cis people or trans women who top, when it comes to sex; and as such I will never be a desirable partner when anyone else is available, as long as I can only receive anal. 

That's how it is.

Crushing.

Demoralizing. 

I feel worthless every time she chooses someone else over me; 

and she chooses. 

someone. 

else. 

every. 

single. 

time.

It's the reality that a dream that was sold to me as a shared dream, is actually just her dream; and I'm only here to facilitate her dream.

My greatest mistake is not that I loved her fiercely or that I partnered with someone who cannot empathise due to no common frame of reference;

My greatest mistake is that I allowed another person to determine if I love myself.

And I don't love myself, anymore. 

I barely feel like living most days now.