Pansexuality is loving someone regardless of their gender or sexuality.
Gender or sexual identity is not a factor in my attraction to someone. I fall in love with someone’s heart—not their body parts. For me, it is about emotional connection.
Polyamory means you are involved in multiple committed relationships, with the consent of all parties involved.
These are the thoughts and musings of my life as a pansexual, polyamorous person:
The taste of her lips were honey, sweet, and soft, mingled with the beer on mine that bubbled forth from the night’s festivities. Her hair smelled of sunshine and coconut and everything that felt tropical. I remembered her touch, for she was permanently etched into the memory of our kiss.
Her breasts were warm and soft, nipples erect and taut, while we gingerly caressed each other. We had connected through hours of talking—brains on fire with creative energies and ideas that seemed to be never-ending.
We discussed life and love and feelings and families and shared intimate details from our hearts long before we truly knew each other. And before that first touch, I was in love with her a little already, for whatever is played out in the body always happens first in the mind and heart.
She had a madness about her that was vivacious and intoxicating—attracting warmth and light to her life in a way that few could even dream of. She was my first lady love.
She was my friend and doula long before I realized how important she would be to me—someone that I could call at any time of day or night and she would be there. I could say whatever I want with her and she would hear me. I could rage and cry and laugh, and she would hold it and cry and scream and swear with me.
She would calm me in my darkest hours and lift me when I was beating myself down. She had seen me through all the stages of my metamorphosis. She had a sensual power and energy, for everything she touched became love and sex personified. We were sisters and friends, bound for life.
She taught me to listen to myself, to reach for my goals and dreams, and to embrace everything wonderful that came into my life. She showed me how to turn pain into beauty and to face what I was afraid of. She opened my eyes to the power and magnificence of women in all changing forms of life.
I could not remember an important moment in my life since the time that we first met over a decade ago that she had not been a part of. She knew every dirty, tantalizing secret and every hopeful wish and desire of my heart. She was my soul sister.
The first thing I will always remember is his probing eyes—blue as a crisp summer day. His soul peered out to me, smiling, during our first conversation. I could not understand or explain away the feeling that drew me in, that made me want to know and explore more.
As we sat in the coffee shop talking about life, I knew in my bones that someday I would explore and discover every part of his body with my own—how he smelled and tasted and felt against my skin. Even then, I wondered if I would ever love him, and the past and future converged into that one defining moment, the pivot point on the line of my life, for I have not been the same person since.
Our first touch was electrifying and soul-opening, with every feeling exploding through fingertips and salty lips. We were high on the newness and the connection that bound us together in an ethereal dance of desire and intoxication.
My best friend, my confidante, my soul lover. The one I turned to first when I had something wonderful to share so he would rejoice with me, or something sorrowful or upsetting to calm me. Calling me out on my sh*t and telling me the truth when I was doubting myself. Singing and breathing with me, encouraging, cheering, and laughing with me. The dance, the playful banter, and the sparring always left me higher, filling me in a way that no one else had before. The most amazing surprise of my life, my muse, and my first true love.
He met me as a girl, and I left him as a woman. Once upon a time, there was love and desire, and today, there is deep hurt and immense gratitude and death—the death of a relationship whose bond is now our children—the family we created together. A good, loving father who did not understand me and loved me from the juvenile place of mormon imperfection. How I wish we could have made a life together work.
He was a friend first and forever, a part of my chosen family—and always a part of my heart. No ending or beginning or line to define any connection, just a soul lover who loved me for me. A sexual lover who wanted me when we felt like connecting, with no expectation of anything other than souls entwined. Though I would never question whether he cared, I knew I could always call on him for support and love. And he is always there—forever.
He was there on the dark night when I longed to disappear and no longer exist. On the night of my birthday (a day of pain and pretending), he appeared with wine, supportive arms, and held me all night long until I no longer felt invisible. He rescued me from the self-loathing that almost sent me to a darkness I may never have recovered from and held me through the night until I could face another day.
A friend, a lover for a time, and someone I would always be grateful to for saving my life while facing a dark night of abandonment and pain.
We connected through cerebral interactions, emotions high and intense. There was a calm easiness about our friendship and attraction with mutual respect and admiration. They saw me and expected me to witness authenticity and rawness. We connected in moments of vulnerability and emotional sensitivity. Loving was easy and comfortable. A friendship, strained at times, sustained emotional difficulties and faced uncertainty. Connection was easy and tumultuous. Love was free-flowing and careful.
She appeared when her life circumstances dictated an openness she was not ready to embrace, but wished she could accept. She saw a future in a moment and embraced all the what ifs. She dove headfirst into a life that required complete surrender; she was open to all the pain and love. A friend, a confidante, a life partner, and a soul lover.
He was a best friend, a champion of truth, and held me in moments of pain and soul surrender. Moments of laughter, love, music, and conversation—I was seen without judgment or misunderstanding. Years of friendship morphed into a companionate love with mutual respect and concern. He knew who I was and loved me, and a part of my heart belonged to him always.
I wasn’t supposed to love her. She made me question everything I knew about life and love. She challenged me, held me in a place of honesty and discomfort, saw my soul in moments when I questioned my own, and I could feel all the energy pouring from hers. We spoke without words in moments of raw vulnerability and discomfort, with mutual respect and love. Her care was evident in the moments of connection we spent alone. She will always haunt my dreams.
Connection, love—this is life.
All we have promised is that we will someday leave and die. No one person is perfect for anyone, and connection is about finding out who you are through loving someone else.
We discover who we truly are within the connection of our relationships with our lovers, friends, and partners.
This is what we are here for—to find the love and joy of every moment.