Writing about one’s life is tricky sometimes. It’s not just a matter of what I’m comfortable revealing to the world – I have to be careful not to say too much about other people, either. But sometimes it’s difficult not to write what I’m thinking. No matter what other verbal path I start down, my fingers wind up typing out whatever is at the front of my brain.

And what I’m thinking about lately is: Man, there is a lot of polyamory tension in the air lately! Just seems like a number of people are having trouble making the courses of their different loves run smooth. It’s funny how it seems to go in streaks – for a while everyone will be rolling along just fine, and then there’s a seismic shift, the ground moves under our feet, and everyone starts stumbling and crashing into each other.

None of this trouble is mine, and I’m profoundly grateful for how well things are going between me and Max, and me and Monk. I cannot tell you how many times I have turned to each of them in the last few weeks and said, “Thank you so much for being so amazingly cool.” And they have said the same to me, which is nice.

So I’m watching all these other storms spinning around me, like the Tasmanian devils in Bugs Bunny. And not only is it hard to not write about it, it’s hard to not speak up real life, too. One wants to pet people and say things like, “Oh, honey, I see that this is being hard for you, but just breathe - your sweetie loves you, everything is going to be all right, and this yucky part will pass.” This generic bit of advice being applicable to the majority of poly upsets.

But I don’t give advice unless I’m asked for it. Unless, of course, I can’t seem to write about anything else.