Two Men, Two Muses

A case of piano four hands

The Sun, 1909, Edvard Munch

Can a woman love two men at the same time?

Simply putting this to my readers has me breaking out in a sweat. It’s one thing for this to happen, the falling in love with two people, and surely I’m not the first to experience it, but it’s quite another thing to talk about it openly. I feel in doing so, I am potentially putting everything at risk, yet how can I ignore this thing that has happened, especially in a forum I created, where the goal is to speak freely about these sorts of things and in a non-judgmental way? It's so much easier to discuss when it’s about someone else’s situation. But this time, it’s mine.

Did you ever fail miserably at writing about a thing, though much thought and consideration went into exploring the topic? Perhaps you even took time to talk it through with a trusted friend or colleague, to use them as a sounding board to ensure the conclusions drawn made sense. On this subject of these two beautiful, wonderful men, I have been at a loss for words, and seeking guidance from friends turned out to be a wrong thing.

And perhaps “fail” is not the right word when it was the methodology that was off – basically I’d already drawn a conclusion on the matter well in advance of having considered it properly. In essence, I inadvertently set the GPS coordinates for the wrong location, causing my self-driving car to end up in Paris, Illinois instead of Paris, France. Metaphorically, that is. Two very different locations.

In trying to write about my recent experiences, and having jumped through the many due diligence hoops that I created for myself, all of which, I might add, had me arriving at the same conclusion as to the right and wrong of this thing I’d done, I chose to persist in my contrary opinion because, to put it simply, it felt right. My gut told me what happened between myself and these two men was right and natural. I subsequently became intent on not being swayed, and with the same degree of force, I now feel motivated to understand what happened and continues to happen.

This is not the first time a powerful convergence of relationships has occurred in my life and I’m pretty sure I did not handle things very well on past occasions. Doubt lingers in my mind - the what-ifs. This I can say – on this go-around, I handled things very differently. The men involved were informed of the situation and my feelings about both of them, and this gave them the opportunity to jump ship should they choose. Needless to say, this was very scary for me, as I was quite enamored with both men, and the thought of not being with either or, worse, losing both - well, that was a difficult thought. Fortunately for me, both chose to stay on board, allowing me to work through a challenging, though admittedly exciting, emotional scenario. Or drama, if you must. All of this would have made for an excellent operatic libretto.

Imagine that fantastic surge of love hormones times two. Just when one wave of wonderful feelings was receding following an encounter, the other person called in the middle of the night, and there I was, riding the next wave. What transpired between myself and both men turned out to be many things: exhilarating, scary, wonderful, exhausting, and, in the end, unsustainable.

This thing I have been experiencing has been difficult to express in words. Not sure if that’s because of my reluctance to openly explore a topic considered taboo by some of my close friends or because of the complexity of it all. What exactly has happened and why? I am still dissecting this.

When I am unable to extricate thoughts and feelings with prose, which is what is happening at this very moment, I find it helpful to resort to music, art, and sometimes poetry.

For those of you unfamiliar with the classical music designation “piano four hands,” know that it is a duet whereby the performers play their separate parts on the same piano simultaneously. Sonatas, tone poems, and the like, composed for four hands, allow for rich textures and especially colorful sonorities, as well as providing an intimacy during the performance not achievable in other chamber music groupings.

In compositions for “piano four hands,” performers sit immediately next to one another on the piano bench, often their melodic phrasing causing hands to overlap. This intimacy allows the desired phrasing to be conveyed easily, ensuring volume, articulation, expression, and tempo are perfectly in sync. And there are infinitely more interpretive options in play when a composition is shared between two minds.

The scenario is this: I am the piano being played by four hands. Draw whatever inferences you wish.

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Though I am surely not the first person to have experienced falling in love with two men at the same time, I have found few people willing to talk openly about it. And when they do, the foregone conclusion is that this “problem” needs to be resolved in one of two ways—choose one or the other of the love interests or walk away from both.

But nothing is ever that simple.

In telling my side of this story, I hope to give these lovely men the dignity they deserve. Both are important to me and I feel exceptionally lucky to have them in my life.

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The first romantic relationship started about 4 months prior to the second. It was intense and everything I could ask for, truly, but that was minus one thing, a big thing – the possibility of it ever becoming a marriage or de facto marriage or even a living together situation. My boyfriend was very clear on this from the get-go; those scenarios would never be in the cards ever, take it or leave it. Which to me, indicated clearly that in his mind, the relationship would always have limits, basically the ones he set. Yes, fuck all the female-centric banter that was part of our courtship. On this biggest of issues, it was his decision; my thoughts on this issue could not, would not be part of the relationship equation. And that was confirmed after much discussion and sadness expressed on my part. And yes, it also pissed me off – even if, in the long run, not living together as partners was something we both decided was best. It was just the possibilities of the relationship were now predetermined. The relationship would not have the opportunity to take its natural course, it would be taking a prescribed course.

My feeling - how could we know how we might feel in a year, in two? His knowing this in advance led me to believe one of two things: I was not long-term/serious relationship/marriage material in his eyes, or it was his preference to be a bachelor for the rest of his life, with all the benefits that accompanied that title. Truth be told, I could totally understand him feeling I was unsuitable as a long-term partner, what with two marriages and a third long-term relationship in my rearview mirror. I could also appreciate his desire to not have his life revolve around a long-term partner, especially after decades of being married. Got it. Totally. My issue: I wanted absolutely nothing to do with being one in a series of late-in-life girlfriends or being one of many female social companions, even if I was top dog. Absolutely nauseating to me, both scenarios. If that was how it was to go down, I wanted off the ride immediately. Like yesterday.

So, let me say this… my grieving process about the relationship began the minute this sank in. I mean, immediately. And to this day it leaves a pit in my stomach when I allow myself to think about it, which I try hard not to do. It colors all that we are as a couple. We are boyfriend and girlfriend, companions, that’s it. The big thing is this, the thing that makes this relationship so damn tricky to navigate: we have an absolutely lovely relationship. I love all that we do together. My boyfriend is a fabulous companion and great in all the right rooms of the house. But I have had to accept that what he wants and needs are now our boundaries. There, I’ve said it. Ouch.

My reality: I want a permanent, long-term, committed relationship, married or no, with the possibility of eventually sharing a household together. I desire this with my whole heart. I want someone to share meals, a bed, life challenges, adventures, my passion for writing, whatever passions he has, and everything else in this world. So there you have it. I don’t see this dream of mine going away, ever. Am I sad about giving this up? You better fucking believe it. Gut-wrenching sad. Crying in the middle of the night when I’m home alone sad.

And for the sake of bringing myself back to center, let me point out my blog name: “Men On Pause.” There was a reason for this title. And yet here I am… once again butting up against these same existential issues, issues I know plague many of us – men and women alike.

OK, moving right along to romantic relationship #2. I am calling it that because that’s what it was for me, at least for a while, and perhaps a bit still. The gentleman involved may prefer other designations - perhaps I am, to him, a flirtation, sexual interest, potential girlfriend, friend with benefits, muse, whatever. The point: we like each other, have many common interests and a shared sense of humor and there were/are sparks. We gingerly danced around the issue for quite a while as we connected by email, phone, and text, but it was clear - we liked each other. Quite a bit.

And, during that time, when the intensity of my feelings toward my boyfriend was at a fever pitch, there remained this conflict as to the long-term arc of our relationship. Then, voilà, in waltzes this absolutely lovely and talented man who had an interest in me. Truth be told, there were three contenders at that same time - all great guys, but it was this one guy, in particular, who strummed my heartstrings. My pheromones were obviously working overtime.

Much back and forth transpired via text and phone, and for the most part, the banter was as friends, but then subtle flirtation started to creep in, and, not going to lie - I loved it. The reality is that at the time, I was having doubts about my boyfriend’s feelings for me, whether he was in it for the long haul, whether he could get past issues of my appearance - I was contending with these doubts about our relationship as my feelings for him continued to grow and I was becoming more emotionally attached. This was a very scary time for me and having a second love interest somehow kept things in perspective. It’s a hard thing to explain and I’m not even going to try.

The attentions of this other man, whom I found equally desirable on many levels, namely that he was kind, shared my interests and political views, was a brilliant performer, and was, frankly very sexy, well, all of this made me reconsider whether I should really be letting go of my lifelong wish for a committed/living together relationship, vs. my boyfriend’s idea of how things were going to be. The tingling I felt for my long-distance friend made me think long and hard on all of this. And I should point out this was more of a there-are-other-fish-in-the-sea situation versus any expressed desire between us for a long-term relationship. We had most certainly not gotten to that stage.

So, I explained my feelings to both men. I mean - we’re all adults, right? And at my age, there is no time to, pardon my French, fuck around with this. Those discussions were hard. I risked my boyfriend backing away altogether at this news and I risked the other man not being down for sharing. But as luck would have it, no one seemed overly concerned, or at least they didn’t share those concerns with me, and it was agreed things would move forward and they did. Plans were made for an in-person visit from my long-distance love interest and my boyfriend and I adjusted our schedule to accommodate that. I did, repeatedly, make sure everyone was ok with what was going on, and it seemed to be the case.

The lead-up to the convergence of these two men being in my life - OMG - it was difficult to sleep, to concentrate on work, really to do much of anything. So much excitement. My boyfriend was showering me with extra attention and adoration and he was looking better than ever. My love interest was sending gentle sexy texts and checking in periodically with updates on his schedule. He also called me to talk - I loved that and this was something missing from the other relationship. I was having a great week overall and anticipating even more enjoyment and fun when my love interest arrived. For a moment, it seemed like, wow - two lovers! I could get used to this.

Or not.

The day finally arrived when I would meet my love interest in the flesh. I was nervous and worried about what he would think of me. Was I beautiful enough? Was I too goofy? Was I smart enough? Silly concerns, I know, but we had not yet met in person. When he arrived, the connection was instant, and while I won’t go into graphic details here, I would just say this - he was all I had hoped for and then some. And for three days, things were… well, I hate to assign a word to this, so how about two: smoking hot. Suffice it to say, a good time was had by all.

Then Saturday morning came along, and I slammed into a brick wall. All of the night prior I dreamt of my main squeeze, and when I woke up at the crack of dawn, with my lover/friend snoring away next to me, I started crying. I quietly got up, grabbed some Kleenix, and then sat in the living room and continued weeping—like for two hours. All I could think of was my boyfriend and how I was missing out on what would have been our weekend together. For the first time, I would not be there with him. I didn’t like that one bit.

The lovely man who’d been sleeping in my bed, well, he woke to find me in this state, and frankly, I can’t even remember what I said to him or if I even had to explain myself. I do remember this: he was very kind about all of it. Off he went to the shower and when he came back out to the living room, he was rolling his packed suitcase behind him. We made our goodbyes, and as he departed, I made clear how really grateful I was to him both for the amazing lovemaking and wonderful conversations, but also for his understanding. In another world, he would have been the guy, easily.

I love him. Yes, I still do.

Through all of this, what became plain was that I was totally in love with that guy who lives up on the hill, and that I needed to be with him now and for as long into the future as he would have me. He was my one and only. There was no longer any question of it. None.

As soon as my lover’s car drove out of view, I called him. He immediately cleared his schedule and noted that if I left right away, we could still have our entire weekend together, exactly as we always had.

And that we did.