The relationship described in the OP lasted about six years.
After we split up, there were a few brief entanglements, but nothing lasting. I was a mess; I jumped on my bike and headed to the desert for a month to clear my head,
After I got back, I met someone. She drew my eye the second I saw her; after we got to know each other, I’d find myself unconsciously orienting myself to her whenever we were near. If we were sitting around a campfire, I’d be facing her; if we were walking, I’d be beside her.
But she was married.
So, I buried it. Until the night of the party…
I ended up crashed out in a corner at their house, after a spectacularly drunken evening, trying to ignore the noises coming from the other end of the room.
And then she grabbed my ankle. It turned out that both her and her husband were into group scenes.
That was fun, albeit confusing.
Later on, I went to visit them. She was keen, he was uncomfortable. He was a bit of a yob, and more than a bit controlling; he liked watching her, but he didn’t like the thought of her doing anything without his permission. It was awkward.
So, I backed off and tried to stay clear.
And then she came to visit me.
I’d made clear that while I was okay with poly, I wasn’t interested in messing up anybody’s marriage. I had no interest in being someone’s bit on the side.
But she was there, and she wasn’t keen on taking no for an answer.
And I fucked up. It’s the only time in my life that I’ve ever been faced with something that I absolutely knew was wrong, but did it anyway.
And then, of course, it all blew up in my face. She was just getting back at him for an affair he’d had a year earlier.
Which is why that bit of my life is always tied to this song:
