Love & Attachment



I’ve read stories, books and articles on the subject and learning to live without attachment is perceived as the path to enlightenment. Guru’s discourage developing attachments to material possessions, to feelings and privileges and among those that identify as relationship anarchists ‘attachment’ can be a dirty word.

“How can you love without attachment?” I asked Riddles during one of our many discussions. He is of the opinion that loving without attachment allows for a more genuine connection, and on discussing his viewpoint I came to agree with it. When I passed on this opinion on a thread in the group I help moderate for local polyamorous people, one of the members stated that she didn’t  “… want detachment from [her] partners in the slightest”.

I agreed with her, but that’s because the concept of ‘detachment’ differs slightly to how I view a ‘lack of attachment’. It implies a separation or disunity while ‘attachment’ goes hand in hand with (co)dependence.
Maybe this is just semantics but I believe the Gurus (and Riddles) were referring to this concept of dependence in a relationship as opposed to a detachment from people or emotions.

Embracing polyamory has allowed me to comprehend that I belong deeply to myself and the same is true for those I love. When I talk about the loss of attachment I am talking about learning to cherish your autonomy and respecting the same in others.
To break the cognitive dissonance we all share surrounding relationships. To question those thoughts that imply ownership and this attitude of entitlement toward someone else’s time and attention.

I don’t see attachment as a negative or something polyamorous people should flat out avoid, but rather to embrace this process of unlearning as a positive. To shift your perspective and the language you use to validate the autonomy of those that are close to you and to be inclusive of those that are new in your life.

Being conscious and intentional about who I do form attachments to makes me feel empowered. I feel special when someone consents to my forming an attachment to the relationship we share. It is then that I allow myself to have expectations of people, and those expectations are usually based off verbal agreements.

Maybe this is why I struggle to understand the nuances between a Friend With Benefits, a ‘casual’ relationship, an NSA arrangement or a Fuck Buddy… because I’m always questioning this narrative that we possess those we have chosen to be in a relationship with, even with those people I have been seeing consistently for months or years.





The only light in the room streams from the computer monitor located on the desk.
The cool, white light illuminates my slouching figure positioned on the swivel chair; my right foot is on the seat to allow my chin to rest on my knee and my left leg is tucked underneath.

The smell of cannabis and menstrual blood permeates the stuffy air as a hand, which doesn’t feel entirely my own, reaches out to snuff out the butt of a joint. As I pull back I notice the index, middle and ring finger are covered in blood… the edges of my orgasm still twitch deep in my body.
I snarl, baring my pointed teeth and continue to flick through images of a past lover who killed himself the day before. 

I pause on one that I took of him on the beach behind the apartment I shared with him and my ex-husband. He has his hand in the pocket of his dark green jacket and is looking over his shoulder towards the horizon with an authentic smile spread across his face. Every landmark in the foreground appears to be pointing at him.

My eyes begin to flood with tears again and my vision blurs. I blink them away and as they roll down my cheek I continue exploring what little images I have left of our time together. I search for something in those images, something I didn’t see the first handful of times I’d flicked through them that day… some indication that he cared or that I enriched his life somehow or an answer or clue to the reasons why he left so soon, without saying goodbye.
I think that’s the hardest to cope with in this dark, quiet room alone… similar to how he left us… that he didn’t say goodbye. That he didn’t want to, that he couldn’t, that he didn’t have words for any of us. 


A great hopelessness washed over me and spilled out of my eyes, anger flared up then and disappointment weighed heavily on my chest.
It was a great injustice and something needed to be fixed.

But alas, nothing could be done and Kieran was gone.

Stolen from us.

Being: Polyam Relationship Anarchist

It didn’t become clear to me that I perceived love, loyalty and relationships differently to my peers until after I had experienced a broken heart several times as a teenager.

When I was about 20 I started researching eco-villages and a lot of these places used the term “polyamorous” to describe the relationship structures and style of governance of their intentional communities.
A lot of things clicked into place for me and many aspects of my relationships with friends, lovers and even my family suddenly began to make sense.

Over the last 6 or so years that I’ve aligned myself with the polyamorous community I’ve learned a lot about myself and the way I ‘do’ relationships.
I still consider myself polyamorous, but I see that as more of sexual identity than a relationship structure.
I’ve noticed that even among other polyamorous people my definitions tend to be broader, my boundaries regarding who I love is less defined, my expectations are limited purely to those things communicated verbally and my love comes without attachment.

For these reasons relationship anarchy is a more accurate description because each of my relationships has it’s own set of guidelines negotiated by the people involved over a period of time.
I find comfort in the uncertainty because life is chaotic and I’m not trying to force some sort of order into it by giving all my loves names, titles and territory.
I like that each dynamic is fluid… being stretchy allows each individual to grow and shift.
I realise that this can be confusing to people who have a monogamous mindset, and even to those who are ‘traditionally poly’ (ie. there’s a primary or nesting partner, a triad, a one penis policy, etc).
Human’s like classifications, labels and order… so my carefree nature probably seems incredibly risky, a novelty or something that I will probably grow out of.
Maybe, maybe not… that will change when and if it needs to change.

When I draw a ‘polycule’ diagram it’s always incredibly large and complicated because the relationships I consider important basically include anyone I see regularly.
When people ask I tell them about Hectic because we have been in a sexual and romantic relationship consistently for over three years.
But there are other’s who are friends that I kiss, past lovers that I nap with once in a blue moon, groups of people I cuddle puddle with. There are some I like to watch masturbate, some that I let hurt me, some I like to watch be pleasured, other’s that have dived deep into my emotional landscape and then back up again, breaking the surface they gasp for air and gaze deep into my eyes to feel a connection that transcends physical touch. People I have danced with all night, people I have been on LSD trips with, watched a meteor shower with in their arms and some who I have called upon when I felt suicidal.
Every single one of these people, and more, I have love for. I don’t expect them to say it back, to do anything with that information or to follow through with some form of a relationship… I just want them to know they are loved, by me, in this moment. In this vast and unfeeling universe we call home, we are connected by our mutual experience.

So yeah technically, in my books, everyone is polyamorous.

Being: Asexual Edition

Ah yes, the asexual identity – the commonly forgotten letter in the LGBTQIA acronym. Even more invisible than bisexuals in the community we flit around the edges getting too attached to people we kiss and exploring others’ emotional landscapes via oversharing.

My sexual experiences have been few and far between not because I’m not interested but because sex is kinda gross.
There, I said it.
I feel very little sexual desire if any at all and, a part from a small bout of experimentation post divorce I don’t fuck people unless I have an emotional connection with them.

This is why I consider my “polyamorous” status to also be my sexual identity. It encompasses my need for love and affection that isn’t centered around sex like the term bisexual implies.
Bisexuality relies on the gender binary by default which isn’t entirely relevant either.

I’m still discovering new things about my body and marveling at how fluid my sexuality can be. I want to accept myself for who I am and I want other’s to do the same.
I’ve embraced my attraction to people of all sexualities, genders and identities but I’m often made to feel like a fraud because I don’t jump into bed with those people. Ironically, for all the pigheadedness of seemingly hetero-normative men they have been the most accepting so far of my wants and needs.
I don’t think I need to figure out why I am the way I am but having the language to explain how I feel to other’s has been instrumental in obtaining fulfilling romantic relationships.

In the past, lovers and potential lovers who have been on the sexual side of the spectrum started to feel unloved, unappreciated, forgotten or undesirable. Usually because it’s a need for them to not only feel that release but also to facilitate that in someone else.
The label gives me the language to explain that I’m not angry at them, I’m not with holding sex to manipulate them. That I still find them attractive but I need to express that attraction and love in a different way.
Discovering the love languages was also super important in learning how to verbalise what I needed to feel loved and appreciated (

Since embracing Kink I’ve been able to explore intimacy with people I love that isn’t inherently sexual. There is still space for us to be vulnerable, to meet somewhere that can make us all feel fulfilled.

Continue reading

Have some pictures of Joker and I having out first play session at the local Rope Exchange last month. It was short and sweet as we got to know one another’s style.
We talked before this about what we wanted and what we expected. Plus communicated throughout about my comfort levels and she made sure to check my limbs for any signs of compressed nerves or arteries.
We’ve had some good deep and meaningful conversations since then too and I’m excited to negotiate further with her.

Here is a small excerpt from a story I’m working on which I may or may not edit:

“Good girl” she whispers in my ear and my body shudders with longing. I can tell she’s behind me even though I’m blind folded. I can feel her breath which has become heavy on my neck.

The heat radiating from her body brushes against me as she leans over to check my hands and feet which are bound in front of me by rope. She gags me with another piece of rope even though I know she enjoys the sounds I make when she hurts me.

We’re sitting on the floor of the community hall and I know people are probably watching us but I’m not aware of them at this stage. All I’m aware of is the rope around me and now the piece of rope in my mouth which is unpleasant. My tongue doesn’t know where to sit and I worry about making her rope wet with saliva. She stabs my feet with something pointy and I make a high pitched squeal around the impromptu gag… I forget all about worrying; about the saliva soaked rope and any other worries that were floating around in my head at the time. It’s gone… there is only me, Joker and the rope around me. Every now and then something pointy comes into existence too – she revels in my pain and discomfort.

She tickles me with her nails and I make muffled laughing noises. Then she pulls the rope that has been woven around my toes. It hurts and I make squealing noises again.

This is our first play together so it’s short. She slowly unties me, taking her time specifically with removing the gag so I drool a little bit. I can tell she enjoys watching my saliva drip from the rope.

We cuddle afterwards and I ask if I can lay in her lap. I look up at her and we talk about what we just created. I respect and fear her. She says she likes me and can tell I’m an authentic person. She says she loves me for who I am, how vulnerable I can be, the noises I make. She says she trusts me, that I live my life by example and that she respects that. I smile at her not knowing what to say… I wrap my arms fully around her in a tight bear hug. There isn’t much height difference between us at the moment but I remember her 7 inch black heels adorned with silver spikes that she was wearing when I first met her. I can’t wait to explore this deeper… hopefully she will wear those heels next time.”


Last weekend my friend Joker commissioned our perverted friendship group to get together for a weekend of debauchery in the name of marriage equality promotion.

In Australia marriage is still defined as “…between a man and a woman at the exclusion of all others” which is very outdated. All other marriages are not legally recognised and you may be excluded from your spouse’s will or be turned away if they’re in hospital (even if you got married overseas).
Our government have commissioned a third party to post a survey to us which we have to then vote “yes” or “no” to allow same sex marriage. That sentence seems like a joke but it isn’t. The most ridiculous part of it is that it isn’t legally binding and it will cost taxpayers millions of dollars to carry out what is essentially a social experiment. The LGBTQIA community have already become a target in the lead up to the postal survey with misleading propaganda being circulated.
Many minority groups including many First Nations people who live in very remote areas (or who aren’t literate in English) are at a great disadvantage.


The idea was to shoot a series to highlight the overall humanity beneath our different relationship structures and identities. Queer, bi, pan, straight, cis, trans, poly, mono, triad, Vee… human.
We stripped ourselves of the part we present to society and covered each other in rainbow colours and glitter.

I had so much fun being naked in the sun with my partners, their partners and my friends. We showered together and drank wine. Hooped in the sun, ate fruit, laughed so much and wrestled each other playfully.


Photo Credit:

Rejection, Loneliness & Freedom

Today I laid in his arms, played with his chest hair and gazed into his wide blue eyes while we discussed relationship anarchy, polyamorist theories and gushed about new potential love interests. We haven’t seen each other much over the last two months because our lives took detours. We were dating briefly but we rejected each other because of expectations, misunderstandings and unrealistic attachments.

Chaos brought on by lovers feeling threatened and projecting their insecurities contributed to the unrealistic picture of what “We” would look like.

But now we’re cuddling on the couch without the pressures of other people, their eyes no longer lingering and judging the value of “Us” or measuring “Us” against their own systems of love and worth.

Admittedly the lack of pressure is probably because they’re not expecting us to be here.

Life is cyclical and about two months ago I had overwhelming feelings of loneliness and rejection again. It was painful because I was patient, forthright and vulnerable. Two months of self reflection and distance allowed me to comprehend what freedom means and how much I value my own autonomy (as well as the autonomy of others).
So today we were there – where exactly doesn’t really matter, we could have been anywhere. Two completely free and autonomous human beings actively choosing to spend this time getting completely lost in each other. Of not feeling like the interactions were fake or forced because we were there completely of our own free will.

We held each other because we wanted to and kissed each other because it felt good. I grabbed his thighs and he grabbed my ass, we flirted and he bit my neck playfully – I wanted to jump him there and then.

The tease!

But maybe I won’t ever fuck him. The validation I get when someone gives their body to me isn’t necessary. Things can be so amazing, like today, just keeping a little distance… because of that distance. Electricity has room to jump and spark, flames have oxygen to breath.
It doesn’t have to go anywhere else, we can jump off the relationship escalator and build our own relationship from scratch. To have someone comprehend how I perceive love by communicating openly with me is validating and that can be more satiating than sex.

It’s fulfilling to watch people unfold unabashedly as themselves and not who they think I want them to be. True intimacy for me is when people show their eccentricities. I love to hear them divulge their darkest secrets and their most twisted dreams, to rant about their passions.

It’s truly amazing how beautiful people are when they’re vulnerable – when there’s a lack of expectation and attachment.