Navigating Boundaries

Navigating Boundaries

Ethical non-monogamy can be rewarding, but it is not simple. The lifestyle requires a significant amount of care for everyone involved. Feelings of hurt can be easily triggered—whether through past wounds, oversharing (as Song Bird calls it), straying out of one’s lane, or crossing boundaries. This is not for the faint of heart. Even for those who have practiced it for years, it remains a delicate dance.

On our sixth night together, we began with sushi at 8:30 PM. The chef surprised us with a heart-shaped roll that made her smile, and her joy in that moment lit something in me. Over dinner we traded more stories from our past relationships, conversations that pulled us deeper into each other’s histories, our scars and our hopes. By 10 PM, we were still talking, reluctant to move.

Afterward, we ventured to a Bachata dance mixer in Chinatown. She was in her element—hips and feet moving with natural grace, her smile radiant and contagious. Watching her dance, I felt simply glad to be beside her. We danced together and apart, and I even met an instructor who kindly offered me lessons. I left hopeful—perhaps with better dancing I could meet her in yet another space, beyond karaoke and dinners.

We returned to my house past midnight, where she met Hazel, my daughter’s rabbit, and Charlie, my Golden Retriever. After a quick tour, we settled into my bed to watch Good Sex on HBO Max. The show prompted a raw conversation about intimacy, her challenges with climax, and the obstacles other women face. Speaking openly grounded us in a new way.

As we touched, the world beyond us dissolved. There was more eye contact this time, more words exchanged, more kisses. I told her I loved her—not just in a romantic sense, but as a fusion of eros and philos: she felt both like a trusted, passionate lover and like someone comfortingly familiar, a close friend.

The intimacy was intense, but just as she neared climax, reality intruded. Her partner called, furious, demanding she come home. She left at 4:30 AM, and their fight stretched for hours. In truth, we had gone well past the boundaries set for us. What was meant to be four or five hours together had turned into eight. This would become a recurring challenge—our difficulty with keeping time.

And yet, after the storm, she and I spent three more hours on the phone the next day. She said she wanted to keep seeing me, but we’d need better discipline. She strives to ensure her primary partner feels prioritized, but the weight of that responsibility often falls squarely on her. She is the focal point, the one through whom everything must flow in order for trust and respect to be maintained. Watching her bear that burden made me ache. Part of me wondered if she should pour her energy into repairing things with her partner, though another part of me silently crossed my fingers, hoping this wasn’t the end for us

By our seventh date, the rules had shifted. We agreed to keep our time together to four or five hours, divided evenly between activity and intimacy.

That night, I picked her up at 8:20 PM, and by 9 we were at Ellis Island for karaoke. She was radiant, her joy filling the room. I sang songs that stretched my voice—Animal, Daughters, Hemorrhage—while she sang You Were Meant for Me, Loving You, and Broken Road. Her voice carried a raw sincerity that always moved me.

Later, back at her house, we lingered over music. We recorded a duet, and she asked me for a massage. Draped in a sheet on the table, her body softened beneath my hands, her face relaxing, her hair spilling to the side. She surrendered so fully she even drooled a little, and I laughed quietly to myself, warmed by the sight.

From there, the intimacy grew, as it always seemed to. Kisses deepened, touches lingered, and she welcomed me again into her world. Time pressed against us, and my worry about overstaying gnawed at me, breaking the rhythm here and there. Still, she found release with her vibrator, gripping the back of my head as if to hold me in place.  I made yet another journal entry:

“Being with her feels natural. I crave her touch, her lips, her voice. But beyond the physical, I treasure her completely—her honesty, her drive, her devotion as a mother and performer, the way she lights up when she sings. I know this relationship is complicated. I am, in truth, an outsider to the family she loves and is committed to. Yet I also believe I bring her something: a recharge, a space of affirmation and tenderness.

Perhaps that is my role in her life—to augment, not intrude. One day, I hope to meet [her primary], to convey my respect for their family’s health and harmony. For now, I am content in the love I share with Song Bird, even if it doesn’t look traditional.”

I spent a lot of time reflecting on how I might help to remind myself of the time constraints—this was and continues to be a learning process.  Nothing is fixed until it is and that isn’t necessarily easy to predict.  Though date #6 resulted in some unplanned drama, our rendezvous at karaoke followed by the casita was perfect.  All was well, for now…



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