I had a confession to make. To my husband, Alex, and our boyfriend, Jon. I was pretty sure I was having an affair, and I was pretty sure it was outside the rules of our open relationship.
His name is Conor. At first, he was just supposed to be some guy I fucked after one Sunday afternoon beer bust at the Faultline, the gay bar in Los Angeles where I work as a bouncer. I didn’t even know at the time that I was attracted to him—I was just impressed by his game.