Things I'm Learning About My Poly Heart

1. Per this excellent, multi-layered infographic of poly styles, especially including their overlap with BDSM I have determined that my primary style is "I'll arrange a gangbang for you and you'll LIKE it."  Thankfully there are plenty of people who will, indeed, like it.
2. This rant/helpful list of things-not-to-do entitled "I DON’T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT HOW YOU FUCK: OR, YOUR HOT ASS MESS IS NOT MY REVOLUTION" got a lot of conversations going with my friends & lovers.  I've been really angry about personal stories told about butch misogyny, about practicing poly on an "it's alright for me but not ok for you to actually go sleep with someone else" kinda way.  And part of that anger needs to be pointed back at myself for all the times I fall into that trap mentally, listen to the old tapes, tense up about other butches in a way I do not tense up about non-butches.  There's such a scarcity dynamic at work in my head & my heart and sometimes it trips me up just when I'm trying to breathe into a bigger picture.  (To be fair there is a LOT of other stuff mentioned in that great piece, that's just the part I took home.)
3. Sometimes it's not about the poly.  This past weekend I felt very anxious and focused on a poly situation in my world as the cause.  While there was some old poly PTSD that came up (do NOT get me started about music festivals) what I should have been focusing on was my financial worries exploding in the form of squealing brakes & the search for a new place to live.  All of which was compounded by working too damn much over the weekend and missing out on some social time with friends that I desperately needed.  This is not a recipe for extrovert success and I found myself dwelling on the poly part as the sharp bit that was getting to me.  Was I nervous about a new thing, maybe even a little insecure?  Sure.  But really I needed to breathe, cook myself a real meal, walk the dog and get some other voices in my head.  I was really proud of the way I was able to not go too far down that spiral.  I noticed pretty fast when I started focusing on the process: I should have asked for this, if I'd made this request it would have been better.  It's really never the process (even when sometimes it needs to be addressed).  When I'm focused there it's because I am too scared to just open up, admit my own fears, and take care of myself.
4. And also, old poly PTSD awaits sometimes.  As gracious, loving & happy as I was to enjoy this adventure when the old stuff came up, sparked by things I could not have seen coming, I felt myself revert to an older version of myself where there was not, could not possibly be, enough.  Now I know I have to watch out vigilantly for that script to go off in my head because that is a tough neighborhood to spend time in my friends.  And the truth is there really is enough, it is different now, I'm learning how to be my own enough.
5. Write it out.  Talk to people who know you well.  Don't be scared of being scared, sometimes that happens and it is okay.  Feelings are not facts.  And keep breathing.

And I'm back...

I got a little quiet there, more than a little overwhelmed.  Each night driving for Homobiles is an adventure, each night has lines or moments that could be spun into short stories or, ahem, blog posts.  And I'm a little awed by it and at the same time worrying about the practical end of things - driving all over San Francisco for hours on end is hard on your brakes.  And struts. And steering, etc etc.  I love the community service part of it, the connection with random and not-so-random people (I LOVE it when my friends book me!).  Sometimes crazy stuff happens and I think "Can I really write about that?  Will it get me in trouble?"  When telling the stories out loud I catch myself toning it down, sort of underplaying the bizarre carnival that happens in my car most nights.

Sure there's some self-preservation involved.  And not wanting people to be scared for me or worried too much (did THAT post already!).  I'm scrawling down notes as it unfolds and need to sit down and just write my balls off, some of it not intended for public consumption, other bits just needing some time to pass before sharing.  Also, I don't want to just write about Homobiles, even though it is the gateway drug I have been dying for.  It has uncorked me, made the need to write so apparent in my skin that it twitches, makes me hunger for the pen and the keyboard.  I moved to California with the intention of pushing myself to write, to get published, to use my real name or maybe not.  So thank you late night San Francisco for pushing me over the edge.

You want a few moments, a little taste?  Here's two:

Quote from the back seat "Do you mind if we do mushrooms in your car? They're in chocolate so it's not vegan."  The concern was palpably for the use dairy products more than the hallucinogens.  

Monday late night/early morning it is often just me out there and I was running late having mistaken 15th Street for 15th Avenue when agreeing to pick someone up from the ER - a fairly big difference in driving time.  I swing around Dolores Park in the dark, brakes squealing, and pull up to fetch two men and two small children on the way to the airport.  People on airport pickups really don't like to be late.  Nor should they have to be!  So I was very apologetic and just kind of tried to disappear in the traffic flow and music from the speakers.  The guy in the front seat started humming along to an old school Price jam.  We talked music a bit, what's good to listen to at dawn versus earlier in the shift, nice and easy chat.  We pull up at the terminal, they decide to pay with a credit card, I whip out my newly purchased iPhone plug-in for exactly that purpose and open the app, which displays my name across the top.  The guy sitting in my front seat pops out with "Hey, you're Holly Fogleboch, you went to Hampshire."  I stare at his face, shocked and trying to roll back 19 years, and guess wrong (totally embarrassing but not a bad guess, Michael I'll bump into you one night!). He tells me his name, and of course it clicks into place, we've actually been Facebook friends for a while, I just was not looking for him in the front seat of my own car.  He was the first person I saw do really subversive, mindbending drag and his Div III show (Hampshire for senior thesis) has always stayed in the back of my mind.  It was a delight to see him, so I hopped out of the car for a hug.  I look a little more carefully at each face now, presume connection when there might not be any but really, would it take even two degrees to find a link?