• Join Holly as she searches east Auckland for love and connection.

In which Holly unknowingly becomes the other woman.

The other week, Reader, I ran into my ex, Ariki (name changed for privacy).

We’d parted on good terms, so we spent five pleasant minutes chatting, then left each other with the promise to catch up over lunch.

A little context: We saw each other casually but consistently for over a year. In Ariki, I found kindness, intelligence and eagerness.

To me, he entrusted desires that he hadn’t revealed to anyone else – submission, crossdressing, voyeurism, katoptronophilia and more.

Over lunch, I was glad to hear his businesses were thriving. I asked after his kids and was thrilled to learn that he’s seeing someone lovely.

He told me that she’s smart, beautiful and very vanilla.

There was no jealousy. The two things I love best about my polyamorous lifestyle are the radical honesty and something called compersion.

Basically, compersion is finding joy in seeing the people you care about happy (inside the bedroom and out of it), whether or not you’re the one making them happy.

No, Reader, I wasn’t jealous, but I was surprised.

I had trouble imagining the adventurous man I’d known being satisfied with a milder lifestyle.

He went on to explain that they’re the perfect couple “on paper” and for the moment that’s enough – he enjoys her company, even if he feels unable to reveal his spicier side.

“We’ll only have an issue if she finds out we’ve had lunch. This is platonic, but she’d see it as cheating,” he told me.

Suddenly, it felt like she and I were in the same boat. I felt betrayed, tricked into being the other woman.

After all, betrayal isn’t always about having sex outside a relationship. It’s about dishonesty and broken trust.

Betrayal is often a spectrum of circumstances and decisions, with every couple defining it a little differently.

It could be something as simple as watching an episode of your favourite show ahead of your partner. Yes, Reader, I’ve witnessed a couple go seven rounds over this.

It could be enjoying an unsanctioned lunch with an ex, revealing something said in confidence, or making a joint decision unilaterally.

As we finished our lunch, I told Ariki that while I’d loved catching up, I felt uneasy with the secrecy. I wished him well, sincerely, and said goodbye.

Reader, how do you define betrayal? What would you have done, in my position?

Email holly@times.co.nz.

Yours in love,

Holly