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Three
years ago my partner, Don, formed an intimate and what has
turned out to be a lasting relationship with another woman,
Angela. Over this period I have done my best to understand, live
with, and grow from this unique experience. I traveled to East
Africa to absorb the ways of traditional polygyny (where
multiple wives share one hus-band) and shared and compared my
travails with interested friends and professional colleagues.
Despite
occasional efforts to socialize as a threesome, the most
comfortable con-figuration we'd found was that of two twosomes
with Angela and I each having half the week with Don and the
other half to ourselves. Despite my proclamations that I could
handle this, I often found it an unnerving experience. Being
that there were two separate relationships, there were always
secrets. To quell my discomfort over this, I'd tell myself that
Don and Angela's relationship was boring and that I had little
interest in knowing what went on between them. I imagined they
did dull things like work on crossword puzzles, watch videos,
and go to the hardware store to pick up supplies to repair
things at Angela's home. I resented how much of Don's time and
energy went into Angela and her home. I also felt there was
absolutely nothing I could do about it.
Angela would remind me that Don had made a commitment to her and
that the time he spent alone with her was barely her fair share.
Hour per hour I had to agree. He'd spend many more waking hours
futzing around our home, fixing computers, working in the yard,
and remodeling the kitchen and the bathroom. I also knew that he
cared lots more for our two cats than he did for her two cats.
Every so often Angela would have outbursts over how dispensable
she was-that if something horrible were to happen to her, no one
would be there for her. She'd proclaim she was just as alone as
she would have been had she never gotten involved with Don. Only
now she was in love with himand too often it just didn't feel
like he was hers.
My
experience was a bit different. The first time I witnessed Don
kiss Angela, my relationship with him shifted. When I saw her
throw her head back with a powerful sense of entitlement, my
emotions backed off. Theirs wasn't a tentative or exploratory
kiss, it was thick and passionate and I felt threatened.
Meanwhile, Don kept assuring me I had nothing to worry about in
that he loved me as much as ever. My body didn't feel that. I
felt like Angela's passion for Don was ripping him away from me.
I listened to Don's need to have two lovers-each of us offered
him different things, for him one lover wasn't enough. He had
newness and great companionship with her, while with me we had a
history, a home, cool cats, and shared projects.
While
for Don the arrangement drew him much loving focussed attention,
the downtime that Angela and I were left with caused problems.
She'd call him countless times on the evenings he was supposed
to visit with me. Sometimes her calls were filled with much
emotional urgency, with fears that he wasn't really there for
her. He'd seem so distant, like he couldn't come over even if
she'd really needed him. Sometimes I'd suggest that he just go
over there. The sound of her pain would so overwhelm me that I
didn't want to be responsible for keeping her from feeling
better.
Meanwhile, I proceeded to fashion a social life sans Don. Often
I'd get together with girlfriends and we'd do lunch, take hikes
and yak up a storm. On the weekends I'd go to parties with my
old friends. About a year after I'd returned from Africa, I felt
a growing desire to have a second lover. Under the current
circumstances, Don was clearly not enough for me. He wasn't
available half the week, and Angela's emotional demands
continued to wear him (and me) down. I thought to myself, if I
could have the perfect new lover, what would he be like? He'd be
cute and playful and have lots of energy to do fun things like
dancing and swimming and hiking. He should be interested in me,
but not so interested that he'd make the kind of time and
emotional demands that Angela makes on Don.
Occasionally I'd meet someone online and invariably it felt like
a mismatch. Some of the guys were in sexless marriages and
sought secret liaisons. Having suffered so much over Don's
initial secretiveness with Angela, I vowed to never ever bring
such pain to another woman. Then there were the lonely single
guys who regarded me as a horny housewife After awhile I just
gave up. Then a couple of months later a publisher acted extra
friendly to me and I responded. We met for lunch, and then a
couple of dinners, and then I realized that despite how
incredibly friendly and bright he was, I wasn't attracted to
him. I couldn't fake it-I needed a lover who'd send shivers down
my spine. I had no plan; I just figured that someday I might
meet him.
Last June that day arrived. It was a sunny Saturday afternoon
and I'd dropped by a girlfriend's pool party. It was Don's date
night with Angela and I was bearing up to another lonely
Saturday night followed by a way too quiet Sunday morning. As I
walked in I immediately caught the eye of an extremely
attractive man who looked to be about my age. My first impulse
was that he looked too cute and that I'd better keep some
distance. I doubted he was as taken by me as I was by him and so
I for the next hour I just chatted with whoever came by. Then
one of my girlfriends whispered that Michel, the very cute guy,
wanted to meet me. It was time. The next moment I turned around,
there he was and immediately we embraced. I had no idea what to
say to him, all I knew is that he had a cute ass, dancing eyes,
and long brown ringlety hair. Within moments we were snuggling
on a couch and making plans to spend the evening together.
I was a bit astounded at myself. I couldn't remember the last
time I'd met someone at a party and gone home with him. Maybe it
was San Francisco in the 70s. I floated into Michel's crowded
Santa Monica townhouse. We talked, drank, and tried to eat. We
were way too smitten to have an appetite. It had been so long
since I'd been with a lover other than Don that our attempts at
intimacy felt awkward. He smelled different, moved different,
and touched different. It was exciting, but also unreal.
The next morning I called Don and told him where I was and what
had happened. It didn't sit well with him. Don's reaction to me
taking a new lover was so different from how I'd reacted over
Angela. During the first months that I knew about Angela, we had
so much sex. Don seemed to have to prove to me over and over
again that he loved me, was attracted to me and very much wanted
to be with me. Now, with my new passion for Michel, Don just
backed off. He refused to make love, and would barely hug me or
look me in the eye. Initially, I was so taken by Michel, that it
was a bit of a relief that Don was keeping a distance. The same
time I was anxious about losing touch with Don. While I did find
Michel to be lots more than a pretty face, I had no interest in
leaving Don for him. I, too, had come to believe that for me one
lover isn't enough.
For the first couple of weeks, I'd arrive at Michel's place in
the evening and he'd cook me delicious dinners and then we'd
make love. He'd making me shiver and writhe in ecstasy, doing
things to my body that no one had ever done before. Then one
weekend afternoon I felt a fever coming on. Quickly it escalated
into a summer flu, which soon brought on weeks and weeks of
laryngitis. I hadn't been so sick in years. Some days all I did
was wrap myself in blankets until I'd get covered in a clammy
sweat. Then I'd smear suntan lotion all over and lay out in the
hot afternoon sun. I considered that perhaps the reason my voice
disappeared for so long was that I was very anxious over what
I'd been feeling. While I considered Don a man I was proud to
have as my life partner, I had so much more fun with Michel.
With Michel I could say whatever was on my mind and it was okay.
And I could hear whatever was on his mind and that was okay,
too. We gave each other the space to be very truthful.
Then as my voice returned, Michel began to venture out from his
initial infatuation with me. He claimed that though I looked
like his ideal lover, I didn't behave like her. There were
things about me that just didn't please him. The more I listened
to his complaints, the more I was ready to go packing. Here was
a man who was so picky that no woman in years had ever been just
right. In one breath I told him that I didn't want to get in the
way of his search for Ms. Extremely Right and then in another
breath I found myself saying, "You can't go away."
Finally, I proclaimed that since I was practicing polyamory by
continuing to relate to Don, he should continue to be lovers
with me while he searched for the woman of his dreams. He
agreed.
The next phase of our connection was
much more casual. Sometimes he'd drop by my houseboat (which
doubles as a writing office) and we'd take a swim and make love.
Other times we'd just swim or go on a hike. Sometimes we
wouldn't see each other for weeks. We'd rarely go to parties
together; our social lives seemed more and more separate. Then
his best friend whom he'd grown up with in Montreal called to
announce that he was coming to LA. As teens, fueled by the
francophonization of Eastern Canada, they both renamed
themselves "Michel." He went on to mention that in
their early 20s they had shared a woman. Teasingly I asked,
"Would you do it again?" He nodded. About six weeks
later, Michel #2, arrived.
I was anxious when Michel #2 stepped into Michel's bedroom. I'd
never before met this man and now it was presumed he would
become my lover. He smoked cigarettes (I don't) and lacked the
artistic flair of Michel #1. It certainly wasn't the first
meeting I would have orchestrated, but out of deference to their
connection, I didn't protest. . I wondered what it was that had
kept them close over the last 35 years. They showed me a film
they had shot of themselves in Paris when they were in their
late teens. I started to sense a bit of their history and their
own relationship.
Still, I feared being regarded as a cheap slut that Michel had
so little respect for that he would pass her on to his friend. I
was assured that this wasn't the case. Rather because Michel
loved Michel #2 so much, he wanted to share me, his special
lover. Perhaps with so many years living apart, they had a
strong desire to feel close. And while they might be
uncomfortable being directly sexual with each other, a woman
between them would make a physical sharing possible.
Nonetheless, I had little basis to want to be lovers with Michel
#2. I was a bit frightened that this man I'd never before seen,
was going to touch me in an intimate way. While, I didn't feel
like I would be in any danger, I feared I would be uncomfortable
being touched by a man I had no interest in or connection to.
I closed my eyes and hoped for the best. Soon I found myself in
an extremely delectable position. Rather than being scrutinized
for not being "the one," I was transported into the
world of unrequited love that family and best friends share. And
I became the recipient of amazing kisses, caresses, and much
erotic intensity. With two lovers, my mind couldn't wander off
as far. With so many of my erogenous spots being stimulated
simultaneously, orgasms kept tumbling out. While I made
occasional efforts to stimulate my partners, I mostly basked in
being the focus of their attention. Finally, I felt I was making
up for all of those cold lonely nights when Don stayed with
Angela. For me, in that moment, two simultaneous lovers were
completely enough.
During the next week I felt extremely tight-lipped about what
had happened with the two Michels. Some of the time I felt weird
for having been intimate with Michel #2 who was still a stranger
and the rest of the time I sensed I'd crossed into a dark spooky
world of erotic taboos. I figured that if I never did it again
no one would ever find out and it would just be a private
secret. Life didn't unfold in that way. Instead I started
pondering Michel #2. Who was this man who comfortably chimed
into Michel's and my erotic play? Was he actually attracted to
me? Could there be a connection between he and I as well? I
figured that the best way I could begin to surmise these
questions was out of the bedroom.
The following weekend I invited both Michels to join me at an
outdoor concert at the Hollywood Bowl. The music ranged from
Hebrew devotional songs (to which we all knew every word) to
South American tribal chants to Beethoven's Ninth Symphony.
During the concert I floated from one Michel to the other.
Sometimes my legs would be wrapped around one, while the other
would run off to look for friends or find us better seats. Being
that there were so many people there, our three-way affection
seemed to go unnoticed. Later that night my attraction to Michel
#2 felt genuine and we became lovers in Michel #1's bed. It was
an amazing moment, filled with passion and the generosity of
spirit that both Michels share.
When I'd appear in public with Don and Angela, we'd make efforts
to not draw attention to our three-way relationship by saying we
were "just friends" and keeping our hands locked in
our pockets. With the Michels it was another story. Spurred by
my efforts to gather data on how the general public reacts to
poly love, we'd walk arm in arm, engage in three-way hugs, and
announce to anyone who cared what we were up to. Women that we'd
meet would acknowledge my euphoria, but would choose to keep a
distance. Men's reactions ranged from regarding me as sexually
available to them as well to asking me which Michel I really
preferred. When we rented a hotel room on a weekend getaway, the
hotel concierge wished us well, proclaiming, "You only live
once!" Often I was just giddy about finally getting to be
poly in public.
During the last couple of years I'd discussed some details of my
challenges in sharing a man with my cultural anthropology
students. For them it made the study of polygamy truly come
alive, as we'd contrast jealousy and economic issues in marriage
in African vs. Western cultures. Invariably my students would
share their own opinions and experiences and our discussions
would become quite heated. Being that infidelity is quite common
in our culture, my "plight" of having Don take up with
another woman drew much empathy. But when I suddenly found
myself in the midst of a polyandrous love affair, I felt
cautious and tight-lipped. Would they come to regard me, their
otherwise proper college professor, as a slut? At one point a
couple of female students begged to know the recent details of
my love life their reaction was both envy and glee. They felt
Don had it coming to him and they were so excited for me.
Meanwhile, my own girlfriends were excited as well. At some
level they all wanted more than one man to be lusting after
them, despite a widely forwarded e-mail joke which reports
"recent research" has shown women do want two men,
though not for sex, but rather one for cooking and one for
cleaning! While today's polyamory movement certain supports both
polygynous as well as polyandrous relationships, I began to feel
gender dynamics make each of these configurations very
different. And certainly whoever is in the middle has a very
different experience than the other players.
After a couple of months of being shared by the Michels, I had
little appetite for sharing Don with Angela. As Don sat between
Angela and I in the safe cover of a darkened movie theater and
placed a hand in each of our laps, my heart sank. I shuddered
remembering how in the years before I'd found this experience to
feel so connecting. Quickly I rescued my sinking heart by
allowing my mind to float off to thoughts of being the center of
Michel #1 and Michel #2's attention. Now, sharing Don with
Angela felt like a silly charade. I had little interest in
connecting with her as family, especially the whitewashed
pseudo-family she'd concoct for public appearances where I'd be
introduced as "a friend," while Don would pose as the
man in her life. Her needs to be private about being in a poly
relationship so troubled me. Certainly having the Michels dream
up ways to delight me took the cake compared to hovering on the
edges of Don and Angela.
Now if it seemed that Don had a difficult time accepting that
Michel #1 would be my lover, despite several of my girlfriends'
proclamations that "he had it coming," his accepting
Michel #2 nearly tore us apart. Initially, I attempted to keep
Michel #2 a secret largely because I thought it would be a brief
"experiment." I figured why ruffle Don's feathers over
something that's going nowhere? Then I attempted to create a
cover for myself by simply telling Don that I was getting
together with "Michel," figuring little harm was being
done in dropping an "s." Meanwhile, I basked in my
dizzying euphoria as I walked into walls, daydreaming about the
last tryst and fantasizing what else might be in store. After
awhile my new threesome had so consumed the spare areas of my
brain, that I had nothing much to say to Don. Part of me wanted
to continue floating and part of me was a bit overwhelmed by the
"high" and by my growing distance from Don.
In telling Don about the second Michel, I fractured the spell.
Don contended that my tryst with the Michels was a "gang
bang" and threatened to "punch their lights out"
if they ever again graced the doorstep of our home. Meanwhile,
Michel #2 got sick for a couple of weeks. It gave me time to
ponder what had happened. Being a research anthropologist, I
could chalk it all up to participant observation data gathering
and just let both Michels go. While I had made friends with lots
of poly folks, studied African polygyny, attended plenty of
swing parties, and weathered sharing Don with Angela; being
shared by the Michels was truly the first and only time in my
research I'd really had fun.
What I had begun to understand, which I honestly believe I could
only really know through experience, was what it is like to be
an ardent female. Until connecting with the two Michels, I
remained incredulous at women who could be freely sexual in
public, or for that matter in semi-public, or for that matter in
the privacy of their own bedrooms! I'd interview women who I'd
see partying up a storm at swing parties and ask them how they
did it. Whatever they'd told me, went into one ear and out the
other. I continued to see women as sexual negotiators. They
trade money and/or security for sex; and as they get older and
have their own resources under wrap, they might trade sex for
companionshipor if possible, sex and companionship for sex and
companionship.
But having sex without a proper seduction continued to make no
sense to me. I really didn't understand how women could be
sexual with strangers if they weren't at least being paid. My
connection with the two Michel's caused me to see, feel, and
know another way. Being that my professional income is more than
adequate and that I share a secure home with Don, I was not
particularly vulnerable to being seduced financially. Moreover,
neither Michel had been in an economic position to offer me more
than sweet heartfelt gifts nor was particularly invested in the
connection to promise me the moon or the stars or even a serious
commitment.
At one point Michel joked with me that if he could introduce me
to a third "Michel," I'd readily become lovers with
him as well. I wondered. Part of what enables a woman to feel
that it's okay to be sexual with a man is her sense that theirs'
is a special connection. If it seemed that she was willing to be
sexual with every Tom, Dick and Harry on the block (or every
Michel for that matter), then she was a slut. And of course no
upstanding professional woman such as myself would want to risk
being seen as a slut. So, the only way I could know how an
ardent female processes her sexuality, was to risk being
regarded as a slut. First, I had to consider for myself whether
being considered a slut had any charge for me. As a researcher
it didn't (it was still part of my participant observation
adventure), though as a professional woman I was a bit anxious.
When Hillary Clinton, launched her New York State senate
campaign, contending that she herself has never had an affair, I
began to wonder is it really safe for me to dabble as a slut?
The opportunity arrived and I stopped thinking so hard and
somehow I let myself go. Michel #1 took me to a swing party with
his very attractive friend Jacque. In past forays into swinging,
I'd mostly maintain an anthropological distance and watch. I
might strike up conversations with those taking a break and
occasionally would make love with Don. After wandering aimlessly
for a bit, Jacque motioned for me to join him and Michel. My
initial caution melted as I did what I'd never before done: make
love with a new man (Jacque) at a swing party. For me it was an
incredibly smooth first encounterand I readily assessed that
Jacque was certainly as good as he looked. I found myself
construing a story that made this slutty dalliance okay. Jacque
wasn't really a stranger; I'd spoken to him on several occasions
in the last month or two. And moreover, he had worked as an
International Economist, so he, too, was a professional. And
then I didn't do anything sexual with anyone else that evening
so perhaps I hadn't yet fallen over that reputation-ridden red
line.
A couple of weeks later Michel and I spent the afternoon at a
secluded nude beach. It was the day after Christmas and we
exchanged gifts and rubbed sunscreen over our winter-white
bodies. The rubbing led to sensuality, which led to sexuality,
which led to a true stranger perching himself in such a way that
he could watch us with impunity. I was aghast that a stranger
was watching us and begged Michel to pack up and go. Michel
suggested I look the other way and just grok the moment. It was
a beautiful afternoon and we'd been having such a good time. I
concentrated as best as I could, but the stranger's presence
continued to trouble me. We stopped and began to gather our
things; then the stranger came over and introduced himself. He
was concerned that he'd made us uncomfortable. I told him that
he had, though, in a different context, e.g. a private party, it
would have been okay. The more the stranger chatted, the more
human he became. Eventually he helped as carry our things back
to the car and I admitted just to myself that the stranger was
actually pretty cute and that I could imagine making love with
him, too. That night I dreamt about making love with my cats, my
childhood dog, and my mother and my father. For that moment I
had no fears-I was open to love.
Finally, I glimpsed at what it's like to have no gates, no
fences, no walls, no secret doors and no double bolted locks. I
didn't need to scrutinize my lovers; I was open to loving
everyone in every way. Now anthropologists actually research
things like this, though for the most part they're
primatologists who study the behaviors of bonobo chimpanzees.
Bonobos are pretty amazing compared to common African chimps.
They traffic in sexuality. When they come upon a Mango tree in
the wilds of Zaire (their native habitat), they first make love
with each other. This presumably releases tensions, which
enables them to then happily share in a juicy feeding frenzy.
When new females join a troop, they size up their new
"family" by making love with each maleand each female.
Observers contend that the females prefer each other as lovers,
naming their erotic activity G-G (genital-genital) rubbing.
(Their very large clitorises appear to make this exceptionally
satisfying.) The strong erotic and social bonds that the females
share could be what enables them to easily stand up to
aggressive males. Likewise, researchers have established that
amongst modern humans, a woman's ability to choose her mates and
to control her own reproduction are key to ensuring the
viability of her offspring. Being that the hominid line (which
eventually evolved into the humans of today) split off from the
bonobo-chimp line some five million years ago, anthropologists
have questioned which chimp species we are closer to. In that
chimp and bonobo lines diverged 2 _ million years ago; that
still leaves us in a quandary over how that human-bonobo-chimp
ancestor behaved sexually. Certainly the behavioral differences
between bonobos and chimps could have evolved since the 2 million
year ago split.
Like humans, both bonobos and common chimpanzees are by nature
polysexual. Chimpanzee females are typically interested in sex
only when they're in estrus or heat. They advertise their sexual
interest through prominent genital swellings that are just at
eye-level for their four-legged male counterparts. During estrus
a female may be so absorbed by the sexual attention afforded her
by the males in her troop, that she waits until nightfall to
forage for edibles. Male chimpanzees have relatively large
testicles, enabling for them to compete over the fertilization
of females by means of an inter-uterine sperm war. Being that
the troop's alpha male would have the largest testicles and in
turn be the most prolific sperm producer, he typically fathers
about 50% of the next generation.
Bonobo females, unlike chimpanzees, but quite like human
females, do not need to be in estrus (or ovulating) to be
interested in sex. Their reasons for connecting erotically may
vary from cementing social bonds, accessing food from
provisioning males, to responding to the heat of the moment. My
question thus became, could I learn about being an ardent
(human) female from studying bonobo females? Of course humans
have very complex and varied cultures compared to bonobos. We
have art, music, literature, film, and of course pornography
which all influence what we consider a female's sexual potential
could be. And bonobos only have the unique cultures of their
individual troops, as well as of course their DNA, which like
common chimps, is 98% the same as ours.
But unfettered by art, literature, etc. are bonobo females the
quintessential ardent female? Perhaps. They have physical
security provided by the troop as a whole and if they're living
in a decent habitat, plenty of juicy mangos and such to fill
their bellies. Moreover, the strong bonds amongst the females
enable additional protection, food sharing possibilities, as
well as much erotic pleasure. The ways that female bonobos
engineer their sexuality creates little certainty over paternity
and in turn much female power.
Despite that human female ovulation is not physically
"advertised," women don't typically wield the sexual
power and independence of bonobos. In natural sexuality cultures
like the Dogon of West Africa, where birth control is not used,
paternity still can be easily discerned. Menstrual huts afford
everyone ready information as to which females are pregnant,
lactating, and menstruating. Males can then figure out each
woman's fertility cycle (e.g. she'll be most fertile a couple of
days after she leaves the hut) as well as readily establish
paternity (e.g. the last one who slept with her since she
stopped coming to the hut). And for modern men, who could not
possibly keep up with the whereabouts of their wives and lovers,
DNA testing assures irrefutable biological paternity.
Anthropologists have also puzzled over the engorged genitals of
estrus chimps, baboons, and 25 other primate species. Being that
these species are clearly not-pair bonded and hardly monogamous,
the question arises, did the hominid line once sport such
swellings as well? Some have speculated that by a female
overriding such a display (or lack thereof) as bonobo females
do, she can gain access to goodies from a variety of males
whether or not she's about to ovulate. And certainly today a
human female knows that the more sexually available she dresses
and behaves, the more goodies (e.g. dinner, jewelry, and concert
tickets) males are apt to tempt her with.
Likewise, if a female primate manages to bamboozle all the males
in her region into believing that they each could be the
father of her next offspring, then they'll all be there to help
out. Considering the widespread practice of male infanticide
amongst primates, a prospective Mom does much to insure the
safety of her newborn by giving every male around the impression
that he could be the daddy. And research data certainly supports
this in that there has never been an instance of primate
infanticide by a biological father. Thus this wily behavior may
have imbedded itself into human DNA in that human females often
find it to advantageous to have multiple males available for
assistance including computer repair, car repair, household
repairs, as well as an array of sensual services.
Another possibility for the loss of a visible estrus display is
that by readily having sex with a male whether or not she was
fertile, the female could cause him to bond to her. Others
speculate that because the female no longer displayed estrus,
the male had to inseminate her regularly to ensure that the
offspring she produced were in fact his. While these last two
theories promote an early origin for long term pair bonding,
this seems to counter all primate research that emphasizes the
central importance of the mother-infant bond. More recent
examination of this lack of visible estrus amongst human females
has led to the contention that such displays were more likely a
later development amongst chimps, bonobos and such, and may have
actually begun after the human/hominid line branched away.
Despite that only two percent of human societies openly practice
polyandry, human females may very well have a long and wide
history of ardency. Those infamous australopithecine bipedal
footprints imbedded in the 3 million year old volcanic ash
of Laeotoli, Tanzania may have been in fact a threesome. And if
they were a threesome, who is to say they weren't a female with
her two male lovers? The Canella of South America happily report
trysts with up to two dozen partners in the same afternoon.
Eskimo men show their male visitors kindness and respect by
offering their wives for the evening. The Yoruba and Masai share
their wives with age-mates and allies. Amongst the East African
Luo, all children produced by a polygynous man's wives are considered
his. Meanwhile these husbands freely acknowledge that their
wives might be entertaining his brothers and cousins of their
nights off. Finally, recent biological research has established
that humans, too, are well-equipped for inter-uterine sperm
wars. The male ejaculate contains not only egg-penetrating
sperm, but also sperm that are equipped to block and kill off
sperm from other "intruder" males. Men who have been
out of town on business routinely (and unconsciously) produce a
more potent and plentiful ejaculate upon their return because
their bodies "know" that while they were away their
wives could have been with other men. Altogether, I had to
conclude that my dalliance in being a "slut" has a
long rich history and that for female chimps, bonobos, and
humans, one lover has rarely been enough.
Dr. Leanna Research
5105 Williams Place
Los Angeles, CA 90032
home: 323.223.1507
LAWolfe@aol.com
http://www.lavc.edu/anthr2lw/index.html
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World Polyamory Association 
