Aiden

I did not speak to Aiden again after that last "go fuck yourself" message. He apologized, but I didn't even read the entire message, and then I stopped checking my accounts.

I started a long process of erasing all the good memories of him from my mind. It was a foundation of the new relationship with Kevin; if I didn't hate Aiden, it would've fallen apart, so hate him I did. Kevin spewed bile about him and I danced at the hate party.

Eighteen months later, I got a Facebook message from Aiden, saying that he was sorry for the hurt he had caused me, he was finally leaving his wife, and he hoped I was well. I freaked out and told Kevin, who called Aiden and threatened him with law enforcement if he ever contacted me again.

In July of 2012, three years after our falling-out, I ran into Aiden by chance at a farmstand in town. I knew he knew I was there only because he wouldn't look up from the floor. I took note of the fact that I had almost zero reaction to seeing him and that he was still as hot as ever, and then moved on with life. I wrote in my journal later that "I took it as a reminder of where I don't ever want to go back to."

In January of 2013 I left Kevin and couch-surfed until my new apartment opened up in February. In October of that year Kevin left the rest of my things - except for a choice few, about which I will refrain from ranting - out in his driveway, and I borrowed a truck from work and Eben's helping hands to get them home.

In the process of unpacking that followed, I uncovered my journal from 2009. Curious, I sat down on the floor, in the midst of the tornado of stuff, and read it beginning to end. Near the end, a piece of paper fell out; it was a letter from Aiden, the one that ended with “And while it will pain me deeply if you need to hate me I will understand it and I deserve it.”

Hate? No. I hadn’t hated him in a long time. I don’t hold grudges, and once my feet were off that fire, it had melted into oblivion.

I searched him up on Facebook and sent him a message that went something like, “Hi, hope this isn’t too startling out of the blue, but I thought you should know I don’t hate you. Hope you’re well.”

The next morning he responded. He was thrilled to hear from me. We spent several long messages catching up; getting through four years of not speaking requires a lot of characters.

We messaged every morning when I arrived at work, and met up for the first time a week or so later, at an open jam for circus prop spinners. Spinning and chatting was a good way to say hello without having to sit and stare at each other awkwardly. After the jam, we leaned against his car in the parking lot and talked, just like we used to do. He gave me a hug before he left and said, “It’s good to see you again.”

“Good to see you too.”

That meeting had one startling outcome: the attraction was gone. Completely. Like it had never existed at all. I was surprised, but not complaining; it would certainly make things easier if we could legitimately just be friends.

I didn’t hear from him again until five days later. I figured he was busy, but he started our next conversation with an apology for ignoring me. He said that he hadn’t told his girlfriend, Shelby, that I had cropped up in his life again until after we saw each other, and he had to make her feel safe. Already impatient with some unrelated drama in my life, I told him in no uncertain terms that if there was going to be drama and bullshit, I wasn’t going to hang around. He swore no drama and said I should meet Shelby.

A couple of weeks later, I stopped at their house on my way to an amateur night, met Shelby, and re-met little Aiden. We continued chatting every day, and it wasn’t long before we started slipping into a flirty pattern again. I saw it and backed the fuck off. The attraction was returning, but I learned a lesson last time, and I wasn’t about to earn the name of Homewrecker again.

One day we were discussing a friend of mine who was dabbling in BDSM and Aiden said, “You know what it looks like when I take the leash off the Dom side of me, don’t you? I think you quite enjoyed every minute of it.”

“But why on earth would you want to remind me of that,” I responded, as a memory from an afternoon in a car flooded my mind. He took it to mean, Don’t make me think about those awful memories. What I really meant was, Stop teasing me with something I can’t have!

He told me not long after that that we were exploring the boundaries of our new relationship to find out where they were. I said exploring is all well and good until you stumble over a cliff, and then you can’t undo what’s been done. He called me after work that day and said, “Sweetheart, I need you to know there are no cliffs here,” then informed me that he and Shelby have a polyamorous relationship and whatever his new relationship with me turned out to be, it wouldn’t be a problem.

I was skeptical. It sounded like too easy of a lie. Then I went to a friend’s birthday party one night in Aiden’s neighborhood, and he told me to crash on his couch afterward. When I showed up, we were all drunk, and they were seeing off friends. Shelby was getting friendly with the girl, and I watched Aiden as he watched her. Then I sat on the space heater – their furnace was under construction and it was December – while we settled into conversation. Shelby wandered through some poly topics, and I was finally convinced that she knew what was going on and was okay with my presence.

They went up to bed after making me a nest on the couch. Then Aiden came running back downstairs, ostensibly to check on laundry, but there wasn’t any of that. He hugged me good night, bit my neck, I bit back, and he grabbed my face, kissed me, and disappeared up to bed.

The next morning I had to be up early to go run a 5k. He made coffee and eggs, and we chatted and watched their chickens run around the back yard. When it was time for me to leave, we had another long hug, followed by neck-biting, followed by makeouts. I was trying not to grin like an idiot as I walked out the door.