Jackie is an old hippie. She lived in a commune for years, now she has a small farm near the commune where she grows vegetables and raises chickens. She has two lovers, one of whom she lives with. The other one lives on the commune.
After being a born-again hippie as a teenager myself, I ultimately rejected many of the trappings of hippiedom. I don't think good vibes will save the world, nor do I think we'll destroy the war machine by living in the woods, growing organic food and having lots of sex. But I like a lot the way so many hippies, especially of the 60's generation, really worked hard at re-imagining how life should ideally be lived.
Even if their broader ideas about how to solve global problems may need a lot of work, their ideas about raising children, open relationships, living on the land, in community, etc. -- all of these things are very attractive to me, even though I have never developed a fondness for playing in the dirt. Or for smelling like I spent the day doing that.
I visited Jackie recently on the farm, and we were having a good time getting caught up about each other's lives. As is generally the case with authentic hippies, Jackie is very thoughtful, and a very active listener.
"How's your love life?" she asked.
Of course I knew she'd ask that question, and she didn't wait long before she did. We've known each other for quite a while. She's really one of a very select group of people I feel comfortable with answering that question honestly.
"Still got a woman in every port?" she prodded. I think I was taking too long to answer. "Meet anyone new on this last tour?"
I travel around the world, playing music for a living. That alone is cause for a certain amount of envy on the parts of a fair number of guys, and others. It can be hard enough to admit that to many people. But to mention that I also have lovers around the world, I just tend to keep that to myself.
Many people would think I'm a terrible womanizer. Sometimes I think I am, too. Others would just be extremely jealous. Or both. I'd be really jealous, too, if I weren't me. I'd probably accuse myself of being a womanizer just as a form of emotional self-defense. There must be something wrong with having that much fun.
"I was thinking about some things you said some time ago before this last trip to Australia," I said. "About visualizing what you want. Sometimes I think that stuff is just New Age nonsense, but then other times I think it really works."
"Something worked?" Jackie smiled wryly.
"Well, I was getting really tired of leaving a trail of broken hearts all over the world. Women I liked would say they were into polyamory, or at least that they were cool with the idea. But then in reality it would always be like, if we couldn't at least be in a primary relationship, they'd end up feeling used and the relationship would end fairly quickly."
"That's sad," Jackie interjected. "And you were trying to be clear with them, and not lead them to believe maybe if they were really exceptionally good at sucking your cock, they might win you over to the monogamous life?" She laughed at her own question, fairly raucously.
I smiled. "I don't think so. But who knows. I think oftentimes people just want to think they're OK with something. Or they want to say what they think you want to hear."
"So you tried a different tack?"
"Yes. It occurred to me that if I only went out with women who were already happily in a clearly open relationship, and I would be like lover #2 or #3, then maybe things would go better. So then I visualized meeting such a woman. And then on my last visit to Australia, I met two of them!"
"And that went better?"
"Yes. Except that they live in Australia."
"Maybe you should try visualizing one closer to home," Jackie suggested.
"Sounds dangerous," I replied.
Jackie knew that I live with my lover. My wife, in fact. She also knew that although it's an open marriage, it's very much DADT (Don't Ask, Don't Tell). So hooking up with people closer to home could get unnecessarily complicated.
"Sometimes," Jackie said, now truly taking on the role of elder adviser and confidant, "it's good to just imagine who you're looking for, regardless of how complicated or impossible it might seem."
"Like how impossible it might seem to find a single person that embodies all the sorts of things I want?" I asked, for the purposes of clarification.
"Yes. I know you've told me before that you long ago gave up on trying to find everything you're looking for in a single person. That's good. That's part of what's so healthy about polyamory, at least potentially. Variety is a very good thing, though it might take some getting used to." At this, she chuckled, perhaps having a memory which she doesn't bother sharing. "But what if you were to just imagine who this woman would be?"
I didn't know the line of questioning would go in this direction, but I liked it. "She'd be full of contradictions, that's for sure," I said.
"Like she'd be in a relationship but also available for you?"
"That's the least of it. She also wouldn't live in Australia. She'd live somewhere closer. Maybe even in Portland. She'd be deeply in love with me, but she'd be happy if she only saw me for a few hours, a couple times a week."
"That's a contradiction, for sure, but far from an impossible one. Maybe you'd meet someone else who's happily ensconced in a DADT relationship, but wants something else nearby that's discreet."
"I hadn't really thought of that possibility," I said, in all honesty.
"Ha!" Jackie laughed heartily again. "Sometimes even the most apparently liberated guys just can't imagine that a woman might be equally liberated. Why wouldn't there be a woman who wants exactly that?"
I was embarrassed, but happy. She always says useful stuff like that.
"What else?" Jackie asked.
"So many other contradictory things." I thought for a few seconds. "She'd live closer than Australia. Closer than Scandinavia, too. But probably she'd have to be Scandinavian."
Jackie frowned slightly and backed up a few inches, looking at me with a mock sternness. "Do you have a blonde fetish that I didn't know about?"
"Along with all of my other fetishes?" I laughed. "That would be ridiculously limiting, eh?"
She looked relieved. "Why Scandinavian?"
"Well, she wouldn't necessarily have to be Scandinavian." Trying to clarify. "But she should be athletic, and gorgeous. But she shouldn't be arrogant or full of herself. Good-looking American women are impossible narcissists, by and large. Not like Scandinavians. In Scandinavia -- Denmark especially -- there are so many athletic, stunningly beautiful women that it's just totally normal, so nobody is full of themselves just because they look good."
"Ah yeah, I got it. Good-looking but not arrogant. What else?"
"Youthful but wise. Playful but confident. Innocent but somewhat cynical."
