Unraveling Through Silence: The Challenges of Communication and Vulnerability

Trigger warning: Consent, Alcohol, Threats of violence

This blog post reflects on my relationship with Willow, an ex, and some of the struggles we faced around communication and vulnerability.

Background

Willow was my first hinge experience. I dated Willow and Triss simultaneously, while Willow had three other partners. Willow was stretched thin from the get-go, and as such when we initially talked about seeing each other, and what she could offer - she originally said she welcomed making a connection but was unable to entertain anything that required more of a commitment. I needed time to consider whether I would be happy to be involved with that arrangement.

After a few weeks of getting to know each other more, spending time together, and growing closer, I settled into the idea that this was just how it had to be. Someone I could care about, maybe even deeply, but never have a relationship with. No expectations. No commitments.

Then I was told otherwise.

I was told I could ask her out. She had talked to her other partners, and they were fine with it—more than fine, even—they encouraged it.

I was told that (when I was to ask her out), that I could see her two weekends every 3 months, and asked if I was happy with that arrangement. I discussed the idea of everything with Triss, before "asking out Willow" (which felt somewhat redundant).

My relationship with Willow brought with it a lot of new experiences for me, both positive and negative. I was caught up in the rush of my "first poly relationship" where I felt a newfound sense of freedom from the lack of judgement for living an atypical lifestyle and feeling less weird for not wanting the norm.

Willow "liked having her boys around her", and as such encouraged time where we would all spend shared time with her. One of my favourite scenarios of this was when we all spent time online playing games together. It wasn't all rainbows and butterflies; a lack of understanding, care, or awareness resulted in harrowing situations.

I was aware of a bunch of the terms - such as "kitchen table polyamory" and "parallel poly"; but what do you describe as the expectation to all go out on a night out together, with an explicit plan to go home for Willow to sleep with three of us (myself, Martin, and Harry), one after the other. Not wanting to let her down or disappoint her, I reluctantly agreed. I told her that it was something I had zero experience with and that I was incredibly nervous. She assured me that she was empathetic and would be drinking less as she wanted to be able to support me.

Halloween

At the club, I distanced myself from Willow and her other partners. I didn't enjoy feeling like I was lingering awkwardly, so instead left to socialise with others. Before the night concluded, I was found and told we were leaving, the four of us leaving before everyone else. When we regrouped, I found Willow unable to stand, walk, or talk. I suggested we all eat some food, in an attempt to help her sober up. We all got in a taxi, and I grew increasingly uncomfortable about the whole situation. 

Willow had told me before about how she enjoyed having sex with her partners even if she wasn't conscious. Ever floundering to meet expectations, I said I was open to the idea. Sitting there in the taxi, the idea disgusted me. I felt nauseous. I attempted to talk with her, but she could barely respond. My sense of obligation conflicted with what I knew was morally right. How could I let this happen?

I was torn, struggling to speak while feeling disgusted and helpless.

I didn't know what to do, or what to say - I could only feel a sensation building up inside of me like a hot poker, working its way up my back, drilling into my neck. A pounding desperation as I sat there. I couldn’t understand how anyone could think this was okay, but I couldn’t find the words to express myself.

When we arrived at her house, Harry seemed to sense something was wrong. He must have presumed I felt nervous about the plan and leaned in to tell me not to worry. He insisted that "I would be going upstairs with her, just the two of us, and what happens there is just for us". I snapped. All I wanted was for the world to stop. How could anyone in this situation be thinking about sex?! I turned around and lashed out to grab him, only to see the look of confusion on his face, asking me "What's wrong?". Upon seeing him confused, and caring -  I immediately slumped down and began crying.

I went into the back garden and carried on crying, struggling to process or express the rage that I felt at the idea of someone, anyone having sex with someone unable to consent. I drunkenly tried to talk with them about the pain I knew, of the pain of my friends and family who had been hurt or assaulted. The idea of anyone trying to have sex with her in that state "made me want to rip their heads off", I tried to explain.

After some time I managed to compose myself, and we were all sat downstairs watching TV when the rest of the group returned home from the night out. When it came time for everyone to sleep, Harry suggested I be the one who shared the spare bed with Willow, instead of him as originally planned. I said that I was okay and that she was chatting with folks, and more lucid now. He said I would feel better if I went upstairs with her, and insisted he was fine on the sofa.

Afterward

The next morning I awoke and woke Willow to tell her about the night before. She seemed receptive, and understanding of how painful the evening, and those feelings were for me. In light of how good it felt to be heard and feel validated, we had sex before going downstairs to socialise.

A few hours later, she came and asked me what happened the night before, confused, I explained it all again. This time she seemed less understanding, not saying much; preoccupied that another woman had slept in the bed she shares with her nesting partner (which broke their agreement).  Not much more happened that day, and after she had been upstairs to have sex with Harry, we all ate and left.

Until recently I was oblivious to how "big" my emotions can be. I have always felt weird, different, robotic almost - the classic "overthinking and underfeeling" was me to a tee. As an adult I have been diagnosed with ADHD, and multiple therapists have also enquired/suggested I am also autistic - especially when it comes to communication and processing/understanding feelings. My lack of knowing what I want, the disconnect between myself and my physical body, and general lack of awareness around "feeling" emotions have left me oblivious to how strongly I can feel in situations where I am scared, a reflection of my terrified inner child, unable to speak or to change what's happening.

During my drive home, about an hour or so away, I was asked again what had happened the night before. I expressed that I'd already explained twice, and was confused and found the idea of having to repeat myself once more painful. I found the ordeal embarrassing and shameful, regretting that I lacked the courage to speak up long before finding myself at breaking point. Martin had called and wanted to ensure I hadn't left out any details of what had happened.

She raised that what had happened was simply unacceptable, violence was never permitted, and any repeat of the situation would be the end of our relationship. I wholeheartedly agreed, bringing the confusion I had into my next series of counselling sessions. I wanted to understand why it happened. I wanted nothing like it to happen again.

Attempting to find resolution

Our attempts to talk about it afterwards were frustrating. I wanted to discuss what happened, to understand why it happened and how everyone felt, but Willow shut down that conversation. She told me that Martin didn’t do ‘discussing his feelings’ and that I shouldn't try talking to him. I felt like the villain, that I was the one who had done something wrong, and that was the only thing that needed to be acknowledged or discussed.

Willow doubled down on this angle. I was confused - I already felt terrible, was that not obvious? She told me how Martin felt about all this: emasculated, hurt that I didn’t trust him as he was supposed to be responsible for her that night. In truth, I didn't trust him - why should I?

We then had to discuss the practical implications of this fundamental difference. I tried in vain to be okay with being exposed to something that felt fundamentally wrong to me. Willow struggled with the idea that my presence, and by extension - me, might implicitly have a say over her other relationships. Why should she and her other partners not do what they want, just because I'm there? 

We were at an impasse until Willow laid out new rules: No one else can decide who she sleeps with but her. She said that when I'm around, no one will sleep with her when she's not capable of making that decision for herself. At the time I didn't understand the difference, but found relief in no longer having to worry about being exposed to something I opposed to the core of my being. 

In retrospect, perhaps the difference lay between boundaries and rules. Rather than feeling like I was trying to impose a rule, she was setting a boundary. Speaking of boundaries, I did both myself and Willow a disservice by pushing myself to consider being exposed to things that conflicted with my core beliefs.

Later

A few weeks later, maybe in an attempt to reconnect, or make me feel better, or make himself feel better - Harry tried to talk about it when we were driving alone in the car. He said that "even if Willow isn't able to talk, he can tell from her eyes if she wants to do something or not". I didn't feel any better hearing this. Once again I felt uncomfortable, and on edge. I did not doubt that Harry loved and cared for Willow— but when it came to the issue of alcohol and consent, I could not continue the discussion. 

I grunted and didn't respond further.

This was not the end of our relationship. Looking back now though I can see that it was the seed that, fed and watered by our inability to communicate and connect, would grow to uproot our relationship. I need to step away from these memories for now. I’ll revisit my relationship with Willow again when I'm ready.