the good place

Every serious relationship I’ve had has taught me something—sometimes gently, sometimes the hard way. I’ve grown a little more each time, even when it hurt. Right now I’m really trying to focus on the good things I learned from each one… the ways I’ve changed, the ways I’ve softened or gotten stronger. 

My marriage was hard—damaging in more ways than I can count. But when he took away the choice to work through things, I had no option but to sink or swim… and I swam. I learned I’m stronger than I ever thought. I did the damn thing, even when it hurt.

First, there was the long-distance guy… The care and passion we had made me brave enough to do something wild—like drive super far, on the actual highway, all by myself. That might sound small, but back then it was huge. He made me feel bold and wanted, and I’ll always remember that.

There was a man who helped me rediscover something I didn’t even know I’d lost—my connection to intimacy, to touch, to pleasure. With him, I learned that I enjoy sex. That I can be playful and passionate and fully in my body. He made me feel safe enough to explore, to ask for what I wanted, to actually want. He reminded me that I’m allowed to be a sexual creature—and that it’s not just okay, it’s beautiful.

There was a man who introduced me to kitchen table polyamory—the kind where everyone’s included and safe to be themselves. He showed me that men can have bad days and big feelings without taking it out on the women around them. During one of the hardest times in my life, he was just… steady. Calm. Safe. And I’ll always be grateful for that.

From him, I learned that men can be hardworking and genuinely care about their people—their chosen family, their whole world. He was the first person I ever had to break things off with, and even in that, he made it feel safe. He gave me the strength to choose what I needed, and that kind of love sticks with you always. 

There was also a man who was—and still is—my rock. He came into my life during the hardest time, when everything felt like it was falling apart around me. And instead of running from the mess, he let me ignore the world around me. He didn’t try to fix me or rush my healing; he gave me romance without pressure, space without distance, and comfort without condition. In a world that felt overwhelming, he became my quiet place—my calm in the chaos. As I begin to slowly unravel the painful threads of my past, he’s right there with me—It's like he's got this magical ability to translate my chaos into clarity, helping me see myself through his eyes—strong, graceful, and surprisingly resilient. 

Then there was the surprise entry—a guy I was just supposed to go on a date with… who ended up becoming this deep, intense, real relationship. It flipped my brain in the best way. I found myself thinking, Maybe someday I do want to nest again. Maybe I do want to love like that. I’ll always be polyamorous, but what we had? That was real. We did family things—holidays, dinners. He showed me men can be close with their family. He even introduced me to Munches—something I might’ve never tried on my own.

It was a whirlwind. Beautiful and messy. And after that, I really started working on myself. I learned so much from the way it ended—mostly that I have to actually say how I’m feeling. That I have to stand in my truth, even if it makes things harder for someone else. And most importantly: when something’s over, it’s okay for it to be over. You don’t have to wait until the love turns to pain. And if you’re hurting—say it. Don’t just silently drift or push someone away. That kind of honesty is love, too.

There’s this guy I’ve been spending a lot of time with lately.  He’s got his own stuff going on—battles that aren’t too different from mine—but he’s handling it with this quiet strength that’s kind of amazing.  He makes me feel seen, safe, and, let’s be honest, incredibly good in the physical affection department.  But beyond all that, he’s shown me something I didn’t fully believe before: that a man can truly show up for his family, heart and hustle combined.  Watching him juggle it all with love and grit?  It’s inspiring—and yeah, it’s made me fall a little harder. 

There’s this guy I was friends with for what felt like forever (which in Erica time is like 6 months). I really tried to keep it in the “just friends” box.  We were like fireflies pretending the other one’s glow isn’t the prettiest thing we’ve ever seen. He's the one who talks me down when I’m spiraling, helps me untangle my own feelings, and never—not once—makes me feel like I’m too much, even when I’m an entire emotional tornado in glitter heels.    

He’s calm and steady to my wild and great.   And honestly? I think he’s been giving more than I’ve even known how to receive. Being friends first was unique,  I was scared to let myself feel it—scared of ruining the friendship , or worse throwing off the whole meta web.  But, let’s be real: feelings don’t care about timing. And somehow… he still surprises me, in the best ways!

I worry sometimes that I am going to be his lesson

To be continued....