The Dragon, The Car, and the Unspoken Veto: When Poly Isn’t Really Poly
TikTok video from 2023-01-17
Whew. Okay.
Dating again after 30+ years in a monogamous marriage?
It’s a whole damn thing.
But you know what? It’s been fun. Like, surprisingly fun. Liberating. Occasionally awkward. Sometimes disappointing. But mostly? Deliciously mine.
So when my husband and I landed in Salt Lake City recently, and he headed off to California for a bit, I found myself with a couple of solo weeks. Time, space, and a body that’s finally remembering what it’s like to want more than safety. I thought—why not explore a little?
I opened Feeld. (Yes, that Feeld.)
And that’s where I met The Dragon.
No, that’s not his real name.
Yes, he’s blocked on TikTok now (don’t worry, babe—I’m not messy, just cautious).
And yes, he did breathe fire—but not in the way you’re thinking.
We connected quickly. Exchanged a few cheeky messages, shared some intentions, and set up a lunch date. It was cute. Lighthearted. Like dipping my toes into the dating pool without bellyflopping. We both said we weren’t into hookups—we were looking for something consistent, a friends-with-benefits kind of energy with depth and mutual respect.
And here’s where it got interesting.
The Dragon is bisexual. He’s been in an ethically non-monogamous relationship for years. He and his wife recently got married (like, last September), and they have kids, busy schedules, the whole blended-life chaos that comes with adulting. According to him, they had done the work. Talked about boundaries. Understood the importance of autonomy.
Honestly? I was impressed.
And you know me—I don’t just take someone’s word for it when they say “we’re open.” So I asked, straight up:
“Do you and your wife allow veto power?”
Veto power, if you don’t know, is when one partner can basically cancel the other’s romantic or sexual connection with someone. Like a “nope, I don’t like them, you can’t see them anymore” card.
He said no.
He laughed. He was confident.
He told me the only things that could get in the way of us connecting were logistics. Kids. Calendars. And I totally get that—I live by Google Calendar too. We agreed we’d check in, keep communication honest, and take things slowly.
So we met. We had lunch. We flirted. We started planning.
And then… we got playful. In his car.
(Yes, that kind of playful. And yes, in that kind of car—a sporty little thing that made me feel like I was 25 and mischievous again.)
It was fun. Hot. Silly. Rebellious in a “life begins after 40” kind of way.
And then, a few days later…
Boom.
Text message.
“Hey… I’m really sorry. My wife and I have decided to close our marriage.”
Just like that.
Apparently, she was excited about us at first—supportive, even. But when she found out where things happened (in their “sacred” car), it all changed. Suddenly, it wasn’t sexy anymore. It was threatening.
I remember reading the message and just sitting there. Staring at it.
Because this wasn’t about the car.
It wasn’t about timing or miscommunication.
This was a veto.
Plain and simple.
And the kicker?
He didn’t even know he could be vetoed.
Let that sink in.
This poor man thought he had agency. Thought he and his wife had clear agreements. Thought they were functioning in a consensual, ethical, open marriage.
But what they actually had were unspoken rules.
And babe, rules and boundaries are not the same thing.
A boundary is something you set for yourself. “I’m not comfortable with this, so I’m stepping back.”
A rule is something you impose on someone else. “You’re not allowed to do this.”
Big. Damn. Difference.
And here’s the painful part:
He didn’t have the autonomy he thought he had.
And I didn’t have the safety I thought we had created.
So there it was.
Another connection. Poof. Gone.
Not because of misalignment, not because it didn’t feel good—but because someone somewhere along the way confused control for consent.
Look, I get it. ENM (ethical non-monogamy) is complex. It’s vulnerable. It takes communication, repair, honesty, and constant self-reflection.
But it also takes ownership. And clarity. And real, non-performative consent.
So what did I learn?
Always ask about veto power.
Always ask again. And again.
And trust actions more than affirmations.
The Dragon wasn’t a bad guy. He just wasn’t as free as he believed.
As for me?
I’ll keep flying.
I’ve got a Wizard to tell you about next—and he’s the real deal.
Stay tuned, lovers.
