WELCOME! YOU’VE GOT INSECURITIES!

Tonight, my husband will be going on his first date. He is going alone. I will be home with the kids. This isn’t a huge surprise. I knew this was coming up. What I didn’t expect was the feeling of anxiety that would wash over me, seemingly out of the blue, and throw every ounce of self-confidence I have out the window. The internal mantra of you’renotgoodenoughyou’renotgoodenough that ran through my head was something I could not have predicted. Yet, there it was.

I should back up a bit. A few weeks ago, while we were lying in bed, my husband mentioned to me that he had created a profile on a dating website. I knew he had signed up on a swinger site previously, in order to find a couple that we might like and want to get to know. I was completely on board for that. When we first discussed opening our marriage, he had made it clear that he thought he would be okay with it as long as we moved forward as a couple. A threesome with another woman or another couple that we could “play” with sounded fun and exciting to him. He wasn’t keen on the idea of me going off on my own, not at first, and certainly not with another man. Since I was the one that initiated the discussion in the first place, since I was the one who wanted to explore, I agreed. If this was going to work, it was going to have to move at the more hesitant person’s pace. I absolutely accepted that. I was in no hurry to dive right in and start finding partners. If he needed to move more slowly than me, that was fine. I would not take the next step until he was 100% comfortable and ready for it.

Wait for it…wait for it…

The initial discussion started a few months ago. In the time that’s passed, there has been a lot of talking, a lot of honest communication about opening up our marriage. We’ve talked about the things we are excited about trying, the things that worry us, where things could go wrong and where they could go right. I’ve sort of sat back and let him explore websites on his own, finding what interests him, and he reports back things he’s found to me. So far, it has all seemed to be things we would do as a couple. So I was a little shocked (and if I’m being honest, hurt) to learn he had created a solo profile on a dating website. I didn’t worry about it too much though, and that night I created my own profile on the same site.

Within a couple of days, we checked back in with each other about our online experiences. I lamented at the overwhelming amount of messages I had received, with none of them being anything I was interested in. The online dating game is a vastly different experience for women than it is for men. He had a gotten a few messages over the two days he’d been active. In the first 12 hours, I had received over forty. It’s almost as if men (and I’m generalizing, I know) think that a woman who is in an open relationship is only interested in finding someone, meeting them that day, and sleeping with them. That couldn’t be further from the truth. But I digress. 

So, as we were talking about the people that had contacted us individually, he mentioned that there was a woman who was in an open marriage that he had hit it off with. They seemed to have a lot in common and they were having some enjoyable conversations online. I was genuinely happy for him. I know he has had some self-esteem problems in the past, and still does, so the fact that he’d met someone that is interested in him is great. It was nice to see a little pep in his step, how he came home from work with a smile on his face and his head held a little higher. He told me that they were thinking about trying to get together and meet soon, maybe for coffee or something, and I was okay with that. I was supportive and excited for him. A couple of days later, he came home from work and offhandedly commented that he and Rose (not her real name) were up to 131 messages exchanged. The next day, he informed me that they would be going to dinner the following Friday night.

My initial reaction…

“Oh, okay. Cool.” That was what I said. What I thought was, “Um…okay. Cool?” but I didn’t think any more about it. I had kids and work to keep my mind occupied. The Monday before his date, though, I found myself at work, suddenly feeling…I don’t know. My stomach was upset. I thought maybe I had eaten something that didn’t agree with me. I was working on a particularly tedious task, earbuds in with Gin Wigmore and ZZ Ward and Ivy Levan coating my eardrums. I couldn’t get that feeling to go away, though, no matter what I did. I began thinking about the upcoming date, and my stomach got worse. It’s hard to describe, that deep feeling of dread. There’s a tightness in your chest and your stomach feels full of ice and fire and knives all at the same time. It would go away whenever I had to get up and talk to someone, but as soon as I was back at my desk with only my music, my stack of work, and my own brain, it started up again immediately.

This is Bob. He lives in my stomach. Say “Hi,” Bob!

It dawned on me that I was feeling anxious about his upcoming date. Not just a little nervous – I was in full-blown anxiety mode. I couldn’t focus, I felt sick, I was a little clammy. I have a Xanax prescription that’s well over 4 years old and sitting in the bottom of my underwear drawer. I haven’t taken one in years, but that day when I got home, I made a beeline for that bottle and washed one down as quickly as I could. I don’t know why, after all of the time we’d spent talking and visualizing and planning, hesitation hit. No, not hesitation. Let’s call a spade a spade, shall we? It was jealousy. I was jealous. I was scared and threatened and feeling shitty about all of it. I didn’t want to bring it up to him, though. I was afraid it would scare him off, cause him to call the date off, and I didn’t want to do that. I know he was excited to meet this woman he’s had such a wonderful time talking to, and I didn’t think it would be fair for me to put my feelings before his. Especially because, let’s face it, this was my idea in the first place, right? I can’t drag him along and then suddenly put the brakes on. That’s kind of a dick move. And as that great sage Wil Wheaton says…

My personal life philosophy.

I did do some things right in this situation, however. I remembered from my reading and from a local poly group that put on a “Poly 101” course we attended, that when feelings of jealousy arise, you have to really examine them. Instead of pushing them away and ignoring them, turn around and stare them right in the face. Look at why you’re feeling jealous. Where is it coming from? Where is it rooted? I began to jot down thoughts as they came to me. It wasn’t anything structured or coherent. Hell, even my handwriting was sloppy and frantic. But as thoughts and realizations, or even hints of realizations, came across my mind, I pulled out a piece of paper, wrote it down, and then went back to the task at hand. The writhing snake pit that was my stomach didn’t subside, but my mind slowed down from a neck-breaking pace to safely speeding along.

We could survive a crash at this speed, right?

So that night, when he got home from work, I casually said, “I’ve had quite a bit of anxiety today about Friday. We’ll talk about it tonight.” He just said okay and called the kids down to dinner. It was a normal Monday night. He did the dishes; I gave the baby a bath. The kids went to bed, we watched a little TV, and headed upstairs to bed. While brushing our teeth, I told him about how I was really upset, to the point of needing to take a Xanax. I told him how it had really taken me by surprise. Up until this point, I had been really pleased with how open and willing he was to try and his growing enthusiasm had allayed a lot of the lingering fears and uncertainty I was still feeling over this new endeavor.

I expressed how I felt he was moving forward without me. I was under the impression that this was something that we were going to do together, that we would have a discussion prior to making any changes or taking any steps forward. His creating a dating profile by himself felt like a violation of that agreement. I thought we’d be looking to explore together, and he created a solo profile without talking to me about it beforehand. His conversations with a woman he just met were so fascinating that within a mere couple of days, he was unable to focus at work because of the constant communication. His “maybe” meeting for coffee suddenly became we’re definitely going to dinner. I felt like he was dashing ahead and I was struggling to keep up. How did he go from being so cautious and hesitant to eagerly diving in without telling me? To be honest, my feelings were hurt a little. No, that’s a lie. My feelings were hurt a lot.

I told him how his upcoming date had brought up feelings about myself that I didn’t think I had, insecurities that I never knew existed. I’ve always been a fairly confident person. I’ve usually had a good sense of self, and a good grip on my emotions. Now, at the age of 34, I feel more secure in who I am as a person than I ever have at any point in my life. I recognize my flaws, I know my weaknesses, but I also know my strengths and what makes me a self-assured person. Or so I thought.

See, the problem wasn’t his date. The problem is that my husband thinks I’m amazing. (Hang in here with me, I’ve got a point I’m getting to.) He knows I’m not perfect, and he knows what my flaws are. In spite of these he still thinks I’m the most wonderful, awesome person in the world. Given his limited experience, I jokingly refer to his high opinion of me as being the valedictorian of summer school. His first wife was a needy, belittling, and (sorry, honey) crazy bitch who put him through hell and fucked with his mind ten ways from Sunday. She left a lot of deep wounds in that man, wounds that are still trying to heal, almost 7 years later. His next relationship was basically a rebound. So, yeah…I’m sitting pretty compared to those two. My fear comes from him seeing me for what I am – a woman of average intelligence, average looks, and average interest. There is nothing exceptionally special about me. I have no specific talents, aside from maybe being able to cook a pretty good meal. I’m good at being a mom, even though I question that some days. But I don’t see anything about myself that sets me apart from any other woman. I don’t say that in a “pity me, poor broken thing that I am” kind of way. Not everyone can be exceptional. It’s a fact of life. You have your exceptionally smart people, like Stephen Hawking. Exceptionally beautiful, like [insert your favorite actor/model/celebrity here]. You have your exceptionally funny people like George Carlin. But then you have the multitudes of us who stand in awe of those exceptional people. That’s life. It’s made up of far more average folks than exceptional.

We’re just ordinary people!!

My husband, however, is exceptional. He is incredibly smart. He constantly amazes me with his wealth of knowledge, how he is able to retain seemingly everything he hears or reads. EVERY. SINGLE. THING. He just puts me to shame when Jeopardy is on. It should be noted, however, that he has never once said or done anything to make me feel inferior. He doesn’t talk down to me or treat me like an idiot. The feeling of not being good enough or on par with him is entirely of my own doing. Sometimes I feel like he deserves someone that is his intellectual equal, rather than having to constantly catch his less-intelligent wife up on so many topics. He has had some incredible experiences in life. He’s done interesting and wonderful things. He’s made friends and memories that are always a lot of fun to hear him talk about. He is an incredibly fascinating man. He has a great sense of humor, and he is so funny. I literally laugh every single day when I’m with him. But he’s sweet and humble and thoughtful and helpful and just a beautiful human being. He is a genuinely good guy.

(Author’s representation)

Being with someone that you feel is far too good for you is a challenge. I’ve done well so far, but his impending date has brought out those insecurities. What it boils down to is I’m afraid. I’m afraid he will meet a woman who is every bit as fascinating and intelligent and quick-witted and interesting as he is. I’m afraid that her awesomeness will shine a direct spotlight on my flaws, magnify them by a thousand, show him all the ugly, warts-and-all side of me that he may have overlooked/forgiven up until this point. I’m afraid that he’ll say to himself, “Hey, if this amazing person thinks I’m great, then maybe I deserve better. Why am I settling for a McDonald’s hamburger when I’ve got a decadent T-bone throwing itself at me?” I’m afraid that I just won’t be enough anymore.

Pictured: My insides

Of course, he reassured me that he loves me. That he wants to be with me. That I am his best friend and the best wife he could ever ask for. He means well, he really does. And I think he sincerely believes that when he’s laying in bed with me, the possible future relationship with Rose still an abstract idea floating around in the ether. Still, I can’t help but wonder if the eyes he looked at me with are going to be the same ones he looks at me with when he comes back home.

I suppose I’ll just have to wait and see.