almasever

[almasever]

It’s Not That Casual Anymore; Unicorns and Non-monogamy

In the dating era of the late 2000’s, casual dating seemed to be a new and only recently accepted social trend. Going to GSA meetings and conversing with my newfound more sexually fluid college friends only gave rise to the occasional polyamorous person, and they were still an anomaly to the general population. In the smaller LGBT world, there was no such thing as a one night stand. The Talk was always dreaded in any new hook up. Feelings grew, and a decision had to be made; are we together or not?

Cut to the 2000-teens and polyamory —a word conceived sometime in the 90′s— seems to not only be more openly accepted as a sexual orientation, it is gaining attention in media and television and even feature films. Emotionally driven plot lines in movies, strongly worded feminists, and workshops at millennial run festivals are now at the forefront educating and defending our polyamorous brothers and sisters . Friends and family members are coming out of the woodworks about their polyamory. Dating apps are littered with profiles establishing that they are “in an open relationship”. Without even knowing it, the perfectly happy couple you grab drinks with may be quietly searching for their “perfect third”.

As a female motorcycle enthusiast, I have plenty of unicorn themed apparel and accessories. This is because female motorcyclists are considered “unicorns” because of their rarity. When I heard the term “unicorn” describing a type of polyamorous person, I was thrilled because I may now fall into two categories of unicorns! A unicorn is a third person joins in on a couples relationship. The term was coined because a willing and happy “third wheel” is rare to find.

Every few years I find myself becoming close with a couple. We would flirt, incessantly spend time together, claim to love each other as best friends at some point, and eventually it would blow up in my face in a variety of ways. The initial attention from a couple can be exhilarating, it’s like riding on the coat tails of their love. Our relationship would go something like this; First, the girl would want to meet up for drinks, or coffee, or invite me to see a movie at her place and drink there, second, I would begin buddying up with the man. My couples were always monogamous and believed in either being committed or single. The idea of being polyamorous was not an option for them. I would see cheating, lying, and an eventual breakup between the two of them while I was the silent observer. After the last time it happened in my life, and ended in complete disaster due to the fact that one part of the couple was in love with me and I did not reciprocate, I faced the reality of this trend. This mythical creature joining couples had no commitment, no drama, and little to no expectations.

A unicorn has plenty of flexibility in the polyamorous world. Their role is defined with the couple after a conversation, and as long as all parties are on board, everyone is ready to rumble. In my limited experience with friends or acquaintances who have explored this triad of a relationship in the past, I haven’t seen it work out because someone ends up growing stronger feelings for just one of the people involved, leading to the are we together or not? question. I am a true believer, however, that it is possible to make this work, and a beautiful thing if it does. More and more people are growing an alicorn. We may have to find an animal one step down from Unicorn on the endangered list.

[almasever]

A poem by Gary Snyder in his California outhouse. Taken May 2012.

[almasever]

I love Los Angeles, and I love Hollywood. They're beautiful. Everybody's plastic, but I love plastic. I want to be plastic.

Andy Worhol

[almasever]

A Los Angeles summer was like entering a world made of daydreams I thought would be great in real life.

[almasever]

motorcycles, death, freedom

They don’t get it. 

Yes, I know it is dangerous. Yes, I know that people love me and need me around. I understand that someone you cared about or someone you knew or someone you met once got in a motorcycle accident and I am deeply sorry for your loss and for them.  People talk to me as if I am selfish for riding a motorcycle. As if I am threatening my loved ones with suicide every day. I am told "be careful” by strangers when mounting my bike. I try to be respectful and nod my head, say thank you and “I will be” then get on with my day. 

I have ridden from Colorado to California and back multiple times. I have ridden hours through deserts and mountains and camped alone in the woods with no one but my motorcycle “ Ol’ Beth” to keep me company. Every time I get on, I wear boots, jeans, my leather jacket, leather riding gloves, and a helmet. These days I even wear knee pads, hip pads, chest and arm under armor as well. I do not ride impaired or ride dangerously. I respect the road and am on a constant lookout. I try to avoid riding when I am stressed or exhausted. All I’m trying to say is; I am safe and respectful as fuck when I jump on that hog. 

I experienced death and motorcycles in a personal way for the first time this year. 

During an all female group ride to a motorcycle event, one of our fellow riders was hit in a head on collision by a full size pickup truck. Bones were sticking out of her contorted legs. Blood streamed out of her helmet creating a pool of blood a few feet from her head. I saw people attempting to make phone calls in complete panic. How would I react if some stranger called me screaming and crying that my family member was in an accident? I grabbed the phone from a strangers hand. As I spoke with a cousin on the phone notifying them of the accident and getting family contact information for the hospital, I watched my new motorcycle friends give the girl CPR. “Is she going to be OK?” asked her cousin on the phone. I was sure she was dead. CPR is only given when someones’ heart has stopped. “The accident was pretty bad, we have an ambulance on the way and I’ll make sure to give all your information to the hospital” I replied, avoiding answering the question or telling a stranger that her family just died in front of my eyes. Emotions rippled through a group of 27 young female riders. First, there was shock and bewilderment. Second came a rush of adrenaline with girls barking orders at each other and trying to organize the chaos around the dying girl. Then, came agony. The closest friend of the dead girl was wailing uncontrollably, girls attempted to comfort her by holding her. The family (two children, parents, and another family friend) in the truck that hit her were each experiencing their own newfound grief knowing they had accidentally murdered a young woman. It was not their fault in any way. I had seen accidents and blood before, but had never seen a life leave a body in front of my eyes like that. It is a strange feeling and the last thing you want to do after seeing a lethal motorcycle accident is jump on your bike and ride another 60 miles, most of the miles being in the dark.

When something like this happens it makes any normal rider question why the hell they ride a motorcycle. In the months following, some girls quit all together and sold their bikes. Other girls were emotionally effected, however, the incident did not impact their motorcycle riding. Without making a conscious decision not to ride, I ended up leaving Ol’ Beth parked for four months. Before I decided to change my motorcycle battery and start riding again, I asked myself honestly, “Why do I ride?”

Freedom.

Some people who have motorcycles are rich. Many are poor. I could never afford a motorcycle. I had a car and tons of bills, taxes, parking tickets, and now credit card debt to be paying off. I bought one anyway. When I am on my motorcycle all that matters is the road and that feeling that I am flying. The feeling of flying is more attainable on a motorcycle than jumping out of an airplane. It’s being in control that makes the difference. I’m a bird and all that matters is to keep going and keep your eyes on the road. My mind is clear and all the superficial necessities of existing in this world disappear. When I get off my bike, I feel refreshed, clear, and have newfound energy to take on the world. The motorcycle becomes an extension of my being. The wheels are longer legs, the engine holds my lungs, pumping heart, and more efficient versions of my organs. 

Life is dangerous. I was in a hot tub a month after the motorcycle accident and a man died in the sauna next to me because he overheated and passed out. People do dangerous things. There are those who are safe and still die young. I do not want to die on a motorcycle. I do not want to get hurt on a motorcycle. That could be a consequence one day, even though I do everything within my power to make sure that does not ever happen. But it could. I love my friends and family. But fuck. I love motorcycles too.

[almasever]

I forget sometimes that I grew up in a desert. I am in love with it. I find comfort and familiarity in that dry heat.