Riding the Storms; Relationships, Power Exchange, Polyamory, and the Sometimes Hard Work of Staying Together
People, inside and outside the lifestyle, often ask how Shay and I have lasted 23 years. I think sometimes they expect a quick response; a little secret tip, a tidy little trick; like we’ve cracked a code. The truth is, there isn’t an easy answer. I can’t explain it in a moment, when we run into one another at an event or at the bar. You need a cup of tea or your favorite coffee, and to sit back and get comfy, and I would need the same - and a box of Kleenex to really explain it to you. To explain that what we have was built, broken, nearly lost, and rebuilt again… more than once.
Twenty of those years have been inside a 24/7 power exchange. That’s not just a bedroom game. It’s daily life lived through service, authority, trust, honesty and structure. At its best, it feels sacred, grounding, and intimate in a way few people outside our lifestyle will ever know. But here’s the part most people don’t say out loud: power exchange magnifies everything. Every strength, every crack, every mistake and every personal shortcoming. When you throw in kids, health issues, grief, money issues, careers, and the sheer fucking chaos of life, all of that collides with your dynamic. And sometimes what once felt like freedom can suddenly feel like a foreign land, a prison of sorts.
And I’ll be honest — for many years, I was the problem. I wasn’t the disciplined Leatherboy I claimed to be, or the life partner that I needed to be. I was often dishonest about what I truly wanted. I was very combative about money, always defending how I spent “mine” instead of respecting “ours.” And honestly, I was only submissive when it felt good to me, when it was easy. In moments of turmoil, I was willful, headstrong, and selfish.
Shay once told me she felt like I had given her a Daddy cap to wear, and the minute I didn’t get my way, or something angered me, I snatched that cap right back. That pattern went on for years. Every time she tried to explain it, I brushed it off - denied it and really, refused to really hear her. Until one day, in the middle of the deepest divide we’d ever found ourselves in, she said it again. And this time, I heard it, and it broke me. Because I knew it was true. I was horrified that I had made my Daddy, my partner, my best friend feel that way; like her authority and stability could be stolen from her the minute I got scared or angry or just plain wasn’t getting my way. That realization gutted me. We had been trying to navigate polyamory and jealousy and I refused to be open about what I wanted. I was trying to weave what I wanted into our dynamic in ways that came off as unethical and sneaky. I was just too scared to say - hey, here’s something I am interested in, can we talk?
Polyamory was my idea. I literally pulled Shay into it, told her to trust me, to take the leap. And it truly was coming from a place of wanting her to have it all. I had married a queer woman who loved women, and that wasn’t really something I could give her. I wanted her to experience it all in this lifetime. But I also wanted to experiment and I denied that. She got on board with the idea of having a girlfriend, and we started meeting people and dipping our toes in. We were so green. We fell into that horrible veto card territory. Agreeing that if either of us ever found it too hard, we could just say the word and be done. It made it feel safe.
Shay did meet someone. She began to build a relationship of her own, and her partner was someone I genuinely cared for. We had become fast friends. I didn’t have issues with her - with them. But I tore it all down in a tantrum. I vetoed her love, not because it was wrong or unsafe, but because I couldn’t handle my feelings in a moment of anger and hurt feelings. In that moment, I wasn’t acting like a boy who was in a dynamic. I lost sight of who I was talking to. It wasn’t submission, and it damn sure wasn’t devotion. It was selfishness. It was me in panic mode, blowing everything up instead of facing my feelings and being honest and communicating. No one had done anything to me, no one had crossed a line. I just got my feelings hurt. But because Daddy loves me and we had that stupid agreement (veto cards are HORRIBLE), she broke it off. They were both very hurt and it was all because of me. I had arbitrarily ended a relationship for other people - in a moment of spite.
Rebuilding from that wasn’t quick and it wasn’t easy. It damn near destroyed us. I had to own that I’d not only betrayed Shay’s trust, and my friend’s trust, but that I had made a mockery of the role I swore to hold as Shay’s collared boy. I had to learn the hard way that submission isn’t about rituals or titles, and it sure as hell isn’t about ease or convenience. Real submission shows up in the hard moments, when your ego is screaming, when fear or selfishness wants to drive, and when you’d rather bolt or lash out.
Power exchange is about accountability, humility, and staying steady in the storm. It’s about being honest about what your intentions are and what you are saying and doing. I lost my Daddy’s collar during this time. I was hurt when she removed it from my neck, but deep down I knew that it was the right thing to do. I knew that I didn’t deserve it and that I wasn’t representing it.
Slowly, brick by brick, I worked to show Shay that I could be steady again. It took so much work - and therapy. I was so lucky to find a kick ass therapist that knew how to get through to me. We worked on intention and honesty and how to recognize when feelings of anger, hurt, or jealousy were starting to build. I learned to recognize the quietest whisper of those feelings. I learned how to navigate it and unpack what I was feeling and how to not only handle it for myself, but how not to hurt the other people involved while I was doing the work. I truly wanted polyamory - I just needed to learn how to do it ethically and responsibly.
The truth is, love didn’t save us. Leather didn’t save us. Protocol didn’t save us. Because I am here to tell you that getting into a dynamic won’t fix your problems, it will absolutely highlight them and throw them right in your fucking face. What saved us was honesty, self-discovery, self reflection and a willingness to grow even when it was brutal. It meant doing work. It was hard conversations, ugly tears, and months where survival meant choosing each other in the dark, even when it would’ve been so much easier to walk away.
We’ve almost lost it all, more than once. But every time, we’ve found our way back by choosing truth over ego, growth over fear, discovery over denial. That’s the real secret to longevity: not that it’s easy, but that you keep doing the work, over and over again, until you’ve rebuilt something stronger than what had broken. We had always said that we stayed because there was more good than bad - shit got real when we realized that there was a lot more bad lately. That’s when you have to roll your sleeves up and get to work if you want to save it. We both knew that we were meant to be - we knew it from the moment we first hugged all those years ago. We knew it at every one of our children’s birthday parties, every time we celebrated an anniversary… every time we watched one of our babies take their own walk down the aisle to their person. We always knew, we had just let so many bricks go up and the wall was getting harder and harder to step over. We knew that to make it, we had no choice but to figure out how to take some bricks down.
A little over two years ago, we were as done as we had ever been. She was done. That pattern that was repeating over and over - handing her the Daddy cap and then snatching it back - had finally been a nuclear bomb in our relationship. I sat in my bedroom for two days, not eating, crying, scared and really hating who I had become. I knew I was losing the best part of me. The person who had saved me from myself all those years ago - and who had once again been trying so hard to save me again… to save us. I am so thankful that she gave me another chance. She certainly had no reason to. I guess I don’t know how to explain what happened. But knowing she was done changed me in a way nothing else ever had. It humbled me, it terrified me and it broke me. I begged her to give me one last chance, and somehow she found it in her heart to. And I immediately went to work. I was able to learn to rebuild myself into a better partner, a better friend, and a better boy for my Daddy. After several months of proving myself, I got my collar back, and we have been the best version of us in the last two years than we had been in two decades.
Because in the end, power exchange isn’t about control. Polyamory isn’t about collecting partners. Both are about remembering that beneath it all, we are each other’s home. And home deserves nothing less than our best. And a collar isn’t a cute accessory to wear out to the bar with your harness. It is sacred. It’s a promise and it is an honor.
So what does it look like now? Well, we don’t keep score - whether it’s chores, emotional labor, or kink service, we don’t treat our relationship or our dynamic like a running tally. Sometimes Shay’s shouldering more, sometimes I am. Sometimes the D/s is more formal and intense, other times it’s lighter because life is life. Protecting the we means trusting that the balance will come back around without resentment poisoning the water.
Laugh.At.Everything. Life is ridiculous. Sometimes the only thing that saves us is humor. We’ve laughed in hospital rooms, during arguments, and right after kinky scenes that went hilariously sideways. If you can’t laugh with your partner, at yourselves, at the world, at the absurdity of it all, it gets real heavy, real fast. Protecting the we means making sure joy is always part of the toolkit, both in and out of scene.
We choose one another every day. Longevity isn’t an accident. Every morning, whether we wake up under the same roof or across the country, we’re making the choice to show up for each other — as partners, as Leather family, as D/s. That’s the real magic. Not fate, not luck, but choice. Protecting the we is an everyday practice. Twenty-three years hasn’t been a perfect fairy tale. It’s been more like a leather-bound choose-your-own-adventure with some bloodstains, coffee rings, and tear marks on the pages. But it’s ours. And I’d choose it again in a heartbeat.
And if I may - if my two plus decades of navigating this gives me any right at all - I will leave you with a little hard earned wisdom, especially for those walking their own path in power exchange. Whether you are mono or poly, whether you are in a dynamic or not, relationships don’t survive on fantasy and sweet words and occasional cards and flowers. They survive when we own our shit. When we stop blaming life, our trauma, stress, or our partners - and start facing the person in the mirror. When we face our demons and remain focused. You can change. You can do the work. And if both people are willing to be honest, to grow, and to stay in the fire long enough, you can salvage a relationship — even when it feels like it’s already gone.
Your turn: If you’ve been with someone long-term, what’s kept you together? If you’re just starting out, what’s the advice you wish someone would give you? Drop it in the comments — I’m always down for swapping survival stories.
