Just got off the phone with my Dad. Sometimes, I am not sure what to talk about with my parents.

“What are you up to?” he asks.  “Haven’t heard from you in a while.” (I am one of those bad kids that doesn’t call regularly, but again, sometimes I don’t know what to say to my parents that isn’t completely surface and superficial.)  I mean, today, when he asked this, my morning had been like this:

I just finished writing a story for a lesbian anthology and sent it to W for critique.

Earlier I had sent in a piece on BDSM terminology for Eden Cafe.

I was IMing with a sexy new guy that I just started seeing.

I was working on an article on poly.

I had my photo editor open as I messed around with a pic for next week’s HNT.

I was thinking about what I am going to wear when I go to a concert with Ad tonight, that I can also wear to Conspiracy afterward when we go to see W.

And okay, I was planning to get up and go to the gym.  So that’s what we talked about.

I also have not been able to share the past few weeks’ agony with them.  When he asks what I’ve been doing lately, all I can offer is that I have been working and going to school and dealing with sick children.

But I guess that’s enough. He seemed happy with that answer and didn’t need to know more. I guess there’s just some people that are on a need-to-know basis.  But that makes me sad, in a way. Not that I want to share everything with them, and they certainly wouldn’t want to know everything, but, sometimes, so much of my life is off-boundaries.

My mother knows I am poly. She doesn’t get it, and asks me at least a few times a year when I am going to “settle down” and marry Ad, as though being poly is just a symptom of a wild nature or something, and I always tell her that neither Ad nor I believe in the institution of marriage, which has nothing to do with my polyness, but even if we did get married, it wouldn’t mean that I would no longer love others. And she nods, and sighs, and says, “As long as you’re happy.” Which I do know she means. She just doesn’t quite believe that I can be happy this way.

Since I don’t live the BDSM lifestyle, I don’t expect to ever share that with them (if it was a life philosophy, then, perhaps, yes it might come out.) But I don’t talk about vanilla sex with them, so I wouldn’t talk about kinky sex either. But then that kind of precludes me talking to them about my writing, which I would like to share with them. I would love to be able to tell them I am writing prolifically lately, submitting stories, blogging, writing for an online space. But that would beg the questions, “What are you writing?” And, “Can I read it?” And um, since my writing is in large part about BDSM, sex, & poly…no, they can’t.  And…that makes me sad.


Still, they don’t seem to notice these giant gaps in my life. The parts I do share, about the kids, my work, school, running, seem to satisfy them that my life is full and happy and satisfying. And that’s good.  Because my life is full and happy and satisfying–just much more so than they need to know.


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