How Do I Get My Relatives to Accept My OSO as Part of the Family?

Dear Viny,

I'm poly, married, and struggling to integrate my boyfriend of four years ("Ben") with my blood relatives. We don't really talk about things in my family. My parents and siblings were pretty accepting when I came out about three years ago, but they've been resistant to treating Ben as a partner on similar footing with my husband ("Harry"). They mostly pretend Ben doesn't exist.

We do a big family trip with spouses/SO's every other year. During last year's trip, I mentioned to my dad that I'd like to bring Ben to a family gathering, possibly but not necessarily Christmas. He said they'd have to think on it, because it would change the dynamic, and that I should remember he and my mom get a say in who comes to their house. I thought maybe they'd talk offline and get back to me, but it's been radio silence since and I'm too chicken to bring it up. When my parents visit me they hang out with Ben, and Harry's girlfriend too, and it's not even that awkward. But when we talk on the phone and I mention something that Ben and I did together, they don't respond.

Now we're planning next year's trip and I want Ben to come but I'm not sure how to bring it up or how much to fight for it. I know he'd like to be included, but that he's not going to push me one way or the other. And that it'd be completely awkward. I get pissed off just thinking about it because his family has always been nice to me, and even included Harry in their Thanksgiving last year like it was no big thing. I think if I was gay, or fostering a troubled teen, or had a baby, or broke up with Harry and was seeing someone new, I wouldn't be getting nonsense about the "family dynamic" and it makes me angry.

Help! Am I being horrible to my boyfriend by not including him in my family stuff like the life partner that he is? If so, how do I get my parents to be comfortable with him? What do I say to my brother and SIL who are concerned about their grade school age kids' reaction?

Regards,

Vacillating Vacationer

***

Dear Vacillating,

No, you're not being horrible. You're being sandwiched: between the crustiness of conventional morality – which allows you to have ONE partner, and ONE partner only – and the moldy misery of raining on the family picnic with your poly weirdness.

Like you, I have a sincere desire to do right by ALL of my family members, and like you, I have some family members who would be offended if I had the audacity to insist that they treat ALL of my family members with equal respect and consideration. We have every right to be angry, you and I: we know that introducing a new family member ought to be cause for celebration. And we also know that your dad's mealy-mouthed excuse about not wanting to change the family “dynamic” is garbage – after all, the very word “dynamic” implies change, rather than stasis, and healthy families end up weathering all kinds of dynamic changes, good and bad, without coming unglued.

Unfortunately, our righteous indignation isn't going to get us anywhere. Most families have very static ideas about what kinds of changes are a normal part of family life, and any overt attempt to change those parameters will be met with resistance and resentment. As far as our folks are concerned, showing up to the family reunion with two partners is like showing up with two heads: super freaky. Don't try to tell them it's normal. It offends their sensibilities.

In order for your parents to invite Ben to the next family gathering, one of two things would have to happen: either you would have to force their hand (e.g., by refusing to attend unless both of your partners are invited), or you would have to somehow convince your entire family that basic decency demands they treat Ben the same way they treat Harry.

The first approach has some advantages: it's quick and dirty, and it immediately puts the ball in someone else's court. It also has some potentially serious disadvantages. Best-case scenario, your parents give in and invite Ben as well as Harry, and all three of you have to endure the awkwardness of feeling like unwelcome guests. Worst-case scenario, you and your family end up permanently estranged from each other.

The second approach – getting your family to re-define “normal” – is impossible, for reasons I've already outlined above.

My advice, then, is to give up on the project of getting your parents to invite Ben on next year's family trip, and to focus instead on the real prize: making it possible for your family to recognize Ben as someone who belongs. And to win that prize, you're probably going to have to sneak him in through the back door – verrrry, verrrry slooooowly.

I am currently in the process of sneaking Cam, my boyfriend of several years, in through the family back door. I expect it will be many more years before he's officially recognized as a family “insider”, but we are definitely making progress. Just two days ago, Cam showed up at a family reunion of all the relatives on my mother's side of the family – uninvited, I might add – and he was treated with courtesy and kindness for the entire thirty minutes he was there.

The keys to our (admittedly modest) success? Patience, peer pressure, and plausible deniability.

Let me explain. I came out as poly to my parents nine years ago, and it was a pretty traumatic experience. They made it clear that they had no interest in even meeting any of my “extraneous people.” So when I arranged for my parents to meet Cam, two years ago, I made sure it was in a context that felt as normal to them as possible. And I did not inform them of my plans beforehand. We were at a public park. My parents had joined me, my husband Parker, and our daughter on a little excursion; I texted Cam to let him know where we were; he and his wife showed up at the park with their dog; everyone said hello. It was all very spontaneous, and we did not discuss the meeting afterward. A few months later, Cam and I took my daughter with us on a trip to meet his parents (who are extremely sweet and accepting of me), and I made sure to mention to my parents where we were, and whom we were visiting. A few months after that, Cam stayed with me, Parker, and our two kids at my mother-in-law's house, and I made sure my parents knew about that visit. Since my parents and Parker's mother live in the same city, this visit afforded me the opportunity of inviting my parents to join me, my daughter, my mother-in-law, and Cam on a picnic one day. My parents wanted to see their granddaughter, so they accepted. The picnic was a success: everyone behaved, the conversation was pleasant, and no one pointed out how strange it was that we were all hanging out together. Then, my brother and his wife invited me and Cam to their house for tea, and my brother told me afterward how “surprised” he was to realize that Cam and I have a relationship that's “of the same caliber” as my relationship with Parker.

When Cam showed up at my Auntie Ell's ranch two days ago, he was on his way home from a backpacking trip. It was all very convenient. Yes, we had planned his trip knowing that it might give him a good excuse to drop in on my big family gathering – and this bit of maneuvering had the desired effect. He got to meet many of my relatives, but no one felt threatened by his presence. I did not “make a scene” by introducing him as my partner, but several of my cousins know who he is and how he's related to me, and they all made a point of welcoming him. My mother was downright friendly. As long as I don't embarrass her by making her admit he's part of the family, she's free to enjoy his presence among us. One low-key visit at a time, Cam is becoming become more and more familiar to my blood relatives. At some point, he'll be so familiar that it will start seeming weird not to invite him to our family gatherings. That's the hope, anyway.

It's okay to take it slowly. Just remember what your real goal is, and keep moving in the right direction.

Rice and Roses,

Viny

My Husband Has Decided He's Poly. How Can I Trust Him, When Our Whole Marriage Feels Like a Lie?

Dear Viny,

Wow, this is weird, but my whole life turned weird a year ago, so maybe this is normal. Quick stats: 48, stay-at-home mom, 21 year marriage, monogamous to the core, husband dropped the polybomb a year ago. I'm still sifting through the rubble trying to find anything worth saving. We've been in therapy for a little over 6 months, but I'm still struggling and I'm afraid I will never be comfortable with this. I went from a tight, loving secure partnership to having doubts and fears and insecurities out the wazoo. I know I'm absolutely not interested in sharing the kind of deeply intimate emotional and physical relationship I have with my husband with any other man. And I can't understand why he wants to. I'm battling the "why am I not enough/good enough to keep you interested in me" demons. I'm also deeply squicked out about the physical aspects of sharing my husband's body with someone else. The thought of touching, kissing, making love with him after he's been inside someone else is deeply uncomfortable.

So after that rambling mess, here's the issue. In therapy, I was asked "What can your husband do, in lieu of emotional and physical fidelity, to assure you of his love and commitment? What can he do/say/give you to help you feel safe/loved/comfortable?" I'm having a really hard time coming up with anything tangible when the voice in my head keeps screaming "NOOOOOOOO!!!! Don't do this!!!!!"

We're not one of those couples joined at the hip, we both have separate friends and hobbies as well as the multitude of things we share, so it's not like I expect him to be my everything. But I did expect him to be my only deep love and intimate partner. And I was really hoping he felt the same about me. Now I feel like I'm being demoted and that I'll eventually be dismissed. You know, First Wives' Club. "Yeah, honey, thanks for raising my kids and helping me build my business and restore our kickass Victorian home, but this is Vicki and I really want to bone her now, sooooo…."

Dammit, rambling again. I guess, two things, how do I trust him in this when it seems like our whole marriage was a lie, and two, how do you get over the ick factor of your beloved having sex with other people?

Thank you,

Faithfully His

***

Dear Faithful,

My heart goes out to you. You’re putting on a brave face, but you are clearly in a lot of pain — and I can totally see why. Your situation is tragic, in the classic sense. Like a person whose spouse was diagnosed with cancer, or someone whose house was leveled by a tornado, you are in an emotional tailspin because your life has been permanently altered, in a way that you would never have chosen for yourself, by a force beyond your control. And to make matters worse, it was your loving husband who set that destructive force in motion. From your point of view, he might as well have said, “Honey, I’ve been praying for cancer,” or, “What I think this place really needs is a natural disaster,” and BAM: a year later, you’re still picking up the pieces, shellshocked, going, “How do I put this back together?” and “What the hell were you thinking?”

Obviously, I do not mean to imply that polyamory is a bad thing. I am simply recognizing that your husband’s revelation — “I think I might be poly,” or “I would like us to open our marriage,” or whatever he said to you — was a life-changing event you wish had never happened.

For that reason, the first thing you are going to have to do is to work through your anger and grief and come to a place of acceptance. Your husband is not exactly the person you thought he was. The relationship you had, which felt right to you, did not feel right to him. Going forward, you and your husband do not have entirely matching visions of the “good” life. Those are the stark facts, ma’am, and regardless of what the two of you decide to do about dealing with your differences, you desperately need to come to terms with this new reality. Only after you have accepted your life, as it now is, will you be able to think constructively about how it might be.

Getting your old life back is not an option. As soon as you’ve made peace with that, you will be in a position to think about how you want to move forward. Moving forward always requires saying “yes” to something, and you can’t say “yes” to anything as long as you’re still screaming, “NOOOOOOOO!!!!”

I’m not going to try to convince you to say “yes” to what your husband wants. But I do think you ought to start by saying “yes” to what you want — not in some imaginary world, in which your husband’s polybomb never exploded, smashing your sweet heart to smithereens, but in this world, the weird and wackadoodle place where you — you, of all people! — have been reduced to asking some Viny chick for “alternative” advice online. Whether you like it or not, this world is now your world.

So, now that you’re here, how do you figure out what you want? That’s a tough question. I can’t answer it for you, but I can give you a good starting point to begin soul-searching: imagine yourself, twenty years from now, telling a good friend, “That polybomb my husband dropped on our marriage back in 2014 turned out to be a blessing in disguise.” If you can imagine anything good — good, according to you — coming out of the wreckage of the marriage you once thought you had, then there’s a “yes” you can feel good about working toward.

Now, to answer the two questions you actually asked.

Question #1: How can you trust your husband, given that your whole marriage now feels like a lie?

In my opinion, your inability to trust your husband isn’t the real problem here. The real problem is your inability to trust yourself: you thought your husband wanted the same kind of marriage that has always appealed to you, and you turned out to be wrong. It doesn’t matter why you believed what you did, only that your belief turned out to be false, and now you’re afraid: if you were wrong about him once, what’s to prevent you from being wrong about him again? The answer is: nothing. You will probably be wrong about him, yourself, and everything else in the world in lots of ways before all is said and done. And that is okay. You see, trusting a partner is just a choice you can make — not because that person has proven, beyond all doubt, that he or she “deserves” to be trusted, or because you’re sure you can’t possibly be wrong, but because you have decided it’s the best choice for you. And in order to make a deliberate choice to trust someone else, you have to trust your own ability to make good choices.

I am sure there is evidence both for and against the story you’re currently telling yourself, the one in which your husband was lying for twenty years, while you played the part of his dupe. So, it’s time to decide: do you or do you not want to believe that awful story? May I suggest that the “tight, loving secure partnership” whose loss you are presently mourning was not a complete fabrication? That it was in fact based on mutual attraction, respect, and positive regard — and that all of these things are still possible, if you choose to believe in them?

Question #2: How does one get over the “ick” factor of sharing one’s lover with another person?

This question surprised me, because I have never felt grossed out by being with a partner who has recently been sexually involved with someone else. (Emotionally threatened, yes; physically revolted, no.) Sex is inherently sexy to me — so, although I seem to be more paranoid about STI risk than many non-monogamous people I know, I really don’t mind the idea of this or that beloved appendage having been in some orifice that doesn’t belong to me, so long as reasonable safe-sex precautions have been taken. I have never been the type to insist on showers and clean sheets after my partner has been physically intimate with someone else. Honestly, it’s never occurred to me, before now, to wonder why not — but I guess I simply assume that a person cherished by my partner is worthy of my love as well, at least by extension. It doesn’t bother me to think there might be some symbolic or energetic “trace” of a foreign body on my lover’s body, because I do not perceive my lover’s lover as foreign, like a pathogen or a noxious weed. It’s more like, “Your invited guest is my invited guest.”

Then too, I have never thought of anyone else’s body as mine, to share or not share, as I see fit. I firmly believe that each person’s body is his/her/their own. Another person’s body may be shared with me, for a period of time, as a gift; my sacred task is to appreciate that gift without expecting to keep it for myself.

Although you and I are coming from very different paradigms, I suspect that you will feel much less squicky about sharing your husband’s body if you do in fact choose to share him, for reasons that feel right to you. It’s amazing what a little agency can do. I also think that if you can shift your perspective just a bit, “Vicki” (the hypothetical home-wrecker in your First Wives’ Club scenario) will turn out to be, on closer examination, a person — just a person, much like yourself, with needs and hopes and fears (and maybe even a few stretch marks). Are other people so gross, really?

There is one final part of your letter that I would like to unpack. You say you are “absolutely not interested” in sharing the kind of relationship you have with your husband with anyone else, and that you “can’t understand” why he would want to share that kind of relationship with anyone other than you. I have a couple of reactions to these claims of yours. First of all, I am suspicious of how emphatically you state your disinterest. Are you so sure? Is there no circumstance under which you might feel differently than you do now? But even putting that objection aside, and assuming that you are 100% correct (not only about your present self, but also your future self), I smell a two-faced rat. On one face, the sneer of smug superiority (“I would never consider the horrible thing you are considering; I am so much more loyal and loving than you are!”). On the other face, eyes squinched shut (“I refuse to look at your reasons for wanting to share love and sex with anyone else, because I’m terrified of what I’ll see. What if you don’t love me anymore? What if it's because there’s something wrong with me?!”)

Faithful, it’s obvious to me from your letter that you are smart, sassy, and supportive — which is a truly kickass combo of womanly virtues, in my opinion. Your husband is one lucky guy. And guess what? He probably knows it. I can’t tell you his reasons for dropping the polybomb, as you put it, but I have a hunch they’re mostly about him. Have you ever tried asking him why he wants to be intimate with other people? I mean, really asking him, and really listening — curiously, compassionately, without judgement or self-defensiveness — to what he has to say in response? Perhaps if the two of you could approach each other in a spirit of open communication, you would be able to explain yourself, and he would be able to explain himself, without either of you having to make the other person wrong. You’re monogamous; he’s polyamorous. You love the shade; he loves the sun. To-may-to; to-mah-to.You get the idea. Can you love each other the way you are?

Thanks for writing. I admire your courage, and I wish you the best of luck.

Panache and Penuche,

Viny

Minor Tremors and Major Upheavals: Why Polyamorous Relationships Are Like Landscapes

Dear Viny,

An unexpected thing happened to me a few weeks ago, and I would appreciate your take on it. My three year old Rock of Gibraltar poly romance experienced a tiny earthquake, and ever since then I find myself mentally wearing a hard hat and carrying emergency supplies. I usually feel delighted about my partner's experiences with other men she finds interesting. So after a recent occasion I was most surprised to discover other feelings gradually welling up in me, namely anxiety, insecurity, and a certain obsessiveness about their interaction. This was totally unexpected. What the hell?

-Seismic Quandary

***

Dear Quandary,

Did you know that the Rock of Gibraltar is home to a few hundred Barbary macaques, the only population of wild monkeys in Europe? These Old World primates are quite unusual: they don't have a tail; their social structure is matriarchal; females mate with most of the males in their social group, apparently giving preferential treatment to those who are most parental; and males take an active role in caring for infants, even though their paternity is highly uncertain.

Unbeknownst to these macaques, the rock upon which they have built their poly paradise is actually a highly faulted limb of an overturned fold – its sedimentary strata are upside down, with the oldest layer on top. Basically, what this means is that different layers of rock gradually built up, over the course of eons, as oceans advanced and retreated – and then, one earthquake at a time, over the course of more eons, the whole structure gradually flipped over. From a geological perspective, then, the Rock of Gibraltar is a perfect example of how the earth is constantly changing, shaped by dynamic processes that we usually don't even notice, given our puny human timescale – except on those rare occasions when we are shaken, quite literally, out of our illusion of safety and security by some cataclysmic event.

As you have no doubt figured out, the point I am trying to make is that the only certainty in this world is impermanence. Nothing is truly solid, not even the earth beneath our feet. There is no rock on which to rest. We know this instinctively, and it's terrifying. The Holy Grail we seek in life is freedom from this fear. And that is why we adore the people who bring us temporary respite – and also why we often come to resent those same people when it becomes apparent that the key word was temporary, rather than respite.

There are a number of possible reasons why your reaction to your partner's interest in someone else felt different (and considerably less delightful than usual) this time. Perhaps there was something qualitatively different about this particular interaction: your partner's level of interest seemed unusually high, the other person's level of interest seemed unusually high, your partner and/or the other person behaved unusually toward you afterward, etc. Or perhaps you were merely predisposed to interpret the situation differently because you happened to be feeling more insecure than usual – for reasons that could have been entirely unrelated to the event, your partner, and the other person. Whatever the cause, something shifted, just the tiniest bit. You felt the earth move under your feet, and that reminded you of your fear – the very same fear you depend on your partner to help you forget.

I could offer you some tips on how to alleviate your feelings of anxiety, work through your jealousy, and regain a sense of trust in your partner's love for you. However, you don't seem to be asking for practical advice. You seem to be posing a bigger, more existential question – which is why I want to leave you with this quote from Pema Chödrön's book Comfortable with Uncertainty: 108 Teachings on Cultivating Fearlessness and Compassion:

As long as we believe that there is something that will permanently satisfy our hunger for security, suffering is inevitable. The truth is that things are always in transition. “Nothing to hold on to” is the root of happiness. If we allow ourselves to rest here, we find that it is a tender, nonaggressive, open-ended state of affairs. This is where the path of fearlessness lies.

Rocks & Macaques,

Viny

A Half-Baked Half-Dozen

I returned from the Oregon Country Fair yesterday afternoon, after five days with no email access, and was partly relieved and partly disappointed to find that my ninety-seven unread emails did not include any burning questions for Viny. Relieved, because I leave tomorrow for California, and I knew I didn't have the time to answer any complicated questions today; disappointed, because having to respond to someone motivates me (and produces better writing, too, I think).

But since blog maintenance is the last un-checked item on my to-do checklist for today, I am damn well gonna post before midnight strikes and I turn into some lesser-known cultivar of cucurbita pepo.

So, here are a half-baked half-dozen topics/ideas I have been thinking about, some of which I might expand upon at some point. (Feel free to weigh in -- using the Blogger Contact Form to the right, or by commenting on this post -- if you have a favorite topic in this list, or you have another topic to suggest!)

1. Who counts as "family" and "extended family" (vs., say, "friend of the family") among people who are open about being in open relationships? 

2. Now that the U.S. Supreme Court has ruled in favor of marriage equality, I find myself thinking that the whole concept of government-sanctioned domestic relationships has got to go.

3. I don't consider myself an exhibitionist, and in fact I'd always assumed that having an audience during sex would be very inhibiting for me, but when Cam and I went to a sex club recently, I discovered that I enjoyed having sex in public. Who knew? Yay for finding out new things about one's sexuality!

4. My last two posts (and also this post from 2013) have addressed the topic of how difficult it can be to find people to date when you're already in a relationship -- particularly an open one. (The "secret affair" makes sense to the monogamous mainstream; they'd sooner date a cheater than a person who identifies as ethically non-monogamous, it seems.) Moreover, heterosexual dating is more difficult for poly men than poly women, on average: but is that just a reflection of the larger hetero dating culture, or are poly men at a greater disadvantage than single men? Does the gender imbalance equalize as people age?

5. Transition ceremonies -- are they useful? (Relationships go through transitions; people go through transitions; the only constant is change, right?) What is the function of ceremony, anyway?

6. This one is kind of "meta" (and maybe not interesting except to people like me, who draw from private experience in order to cultivate a public persona), but when is it appropriate to share someone else's private story in a public forum? One answer is "only when you have the person's express permission." Another might be, "only when there are no identifying details." But I'm not sure I'm totally satisfied with those answers. Is information a kind of personal property? If you share it with someone, doesn't it become theirs, also? (I'm not talking about a story shared in confidence -- that's kind of like a nude picture sent via personal text/email, shared under the condition that it remain private: in that case, making the "information" public would be violating an agreement.) What about an experience that involves several people, including oneself, and some people are fine with the story being shared and some people are not -- is silence always the best default setting?

Signing off now & heading bedward. Check, check, check!

My Boyfriend Can't Get a Date, and I'm Tired of Talking about It

Dear Viny,

I've been with my boyfriend for a few years, but we've only been in a poly relationship for about a year. I've had a vast range of outside relationships, but unfortunately he doesn't have as much luck with the ladies as he would like. Constantly feeling pent up and frustrated, he turns to me to vent and ask advice. I really want to be there for him, since he's been there for me, but it's become difficult for me to participate in these pessimistic conversations. I'm not sure what to say to him, half feeling like we may need space and also hoping things will improve on their own.

Regards,
A.

***

Dear A.,

I hear you on this one, sister. One of the most challenging periods of my marriage occurred after I got together with my first serious boyfriend but before my husband got together with his first serious girlfriend. Our relationship dynamic during that time was very much like what you've described in your letter: my husband, feeling frustrated and discouraged, turned to me for sympathy, advice, and reassurance; and I, feeling concerned but also annoyed and resentful, did my best to meet his needs – and utterly failed to fix his problem.

If I were giving advice to your boyfriend, I would probably say things like, “Approach dating from the perspective of what you have to give to others, not what you hope to get from them,” or, “Try putting yourself into situations where you will meet other people in a setting that brings you joy, and just be open to interacting, without specific expectations,” or, “Stop fucking wallowing already – don't you know it's super unattractive?!” 

Those are all things I told my husband during his woe-is-me phase, but none of them made one sniffly sniglet of a difference. It was almost like he was determined to feel bad about himself. And then a miraculous thing happened: somehow, he ended up crushing on someone who returned his affections. He was thrilled, as you might imagine, flooded with feel-good juice – which made him much more fun to be around. And suddenly, all sorts of women began suggestively sashaying out of the woodwork. I remember going to a party with him around this time: no fewer than three women remarked, in breathy tones, on how good-looking my husband was, and one of them (after imbibing too much holiday punch) literally backed him into a corner and attempted to make out with him. It was pretty ironic: the second he stopped needing more attention from women, he began getting it. Desirability is strange in that way. It's the people who are most deep-down convinced of their own attractiveness who are most attractive to others.

So, what to do when you're stuck in the negative version of that loop? What recourse do you have when you fear you're not sexy enough, you don't have what it takes, and – worst of all – you know that other people can sense your insecurity, because it stinks like skunk stew?

You step out of the loop, that's what. You stop evaluating yourself based on what you think others think of you, and you get to work on doing what you need to do in order to think more highly of yourself. You focus on self-improvement for your own sake. Sure, you can always pray for a prince or princess who is looking for a diamond in the rough, a lover who is willing to mine the whine, as it were, but such reprieves are rare. What's more, the magical boost in self-esteem caused by another's positive regard is only temporary. After my husband and his first girlfriend broke up, he was right back where he started – except that he had learned a very important lesson: self-acceptance can only come from within.

I could say a lot more about this, but your boyfriend isn't the one asking for my advice, and your issue isn't really that you don't know what to say to him. Your issue is that you have allowed his problem to become your problem. This wouldn't be so bad if the solution were in your hands, but it isn't. He has to solve this one on his own. On some level, you know this, and it's making you crazy: you're waiting for him to get his shit together, so you can both enjoy your lives, but you're beginning to despair. You feel powerless and put-upon. It's like he's holding you hostage. You think to yourself, “This is totally unfair! Why do I have to feel bad, just because he's feeling bad?” – and then a wave of guilt crashes over you, and you think, “This is totally unfair! Surely I, who have so much, can muster up a bit of compassion for someone with less?”

Does this resonate? If so, I have some bad news: there is no such thing as perfect parity – in any relationship, poly or otherwise. A “fair” is for the pigs. Life's a bitch, and then you die. Et cetera. But I have some good news, too: you do not need to fix your boyfriend's problem in order to feel better. You only need to fix your problem. And your problem is a simple boundary issue.

I say “simple,” but I know very well how difficult it is to deal with boundary issues. I'm still learning how to walk the tightrope of interdependence without falling into codependence. Nevertheless, I would like to share with you one fail-safe way to tell whether you are maintaining healthy emotional boundaries: when you get drawn into a conversation about someone else's problems, ask yourself, “Am I experiencing feelings of anger or fear or anxiety right now?” If the answer is yes, then you are interpreting the situation as a threat to your autonomy, and any empathy you may feel will be swamped by your desire to protect yourself against the unwelcome intrusion of the other.

True compassion cannot be forced. You cannot be shamed or guilted or manipulated into empathizing with another person's plight. When you give of yourself, you must give freely, or it isn't a gift: empathy born out of a sense of duty arrives freighted with resentment, obligating the receiver to seem grateful – and, interestingly, true gratitude cannot be forced, either.

This may seem counter-intuitive, but your ability to be there for your boyfriend actually hinges on your ability to separate yourself from him and his problems. Yes, A., you are absolutely correct: you need space. My hope is that you can create that space without having to distance yourself from someone you love.

Knickknacks & Piggybacks,

Viny

My Wife's Boyfriend Wants Her to Be Monogamous -- With Him!

Dear Viny,

I'm married in an open/poly way. Actually my wife and I had together a girlfriend in the past (but it didn't work out so well). She still has (kind of) a boyfriend. The thing I'm bothered about is the fact that he wants to go monogamous with her. I've already told her to talk to him and explain that that will never be possible, but she likes him very much. I, on the other hand, don't have currently a girlfriend or a fixed partner. Actually I can go out with girls, but I can't seem to find any girl interested in joining an existing open relationship (we live in Berlin, Germany). Also, to make matters worse, I tend to fall in love easily with the girls I go out with, only to painfully find out later that they never even considered anything serious to be possible with me. My question is: how to handle such a relationship and such expectations? I'd appreciate if you could help me.

– D.

***

Dear D.,

Although you have asked a general question – you want to know how you and your wife can maintain a committed open relationship, given that the people in your dating pool seem to simply assume that any serious relationship entails sexual exclusivity – I would like to begin with the three specific concerns you mention.

Concern #1: Your wife's 'kind-of' boyfriend wants her to be monogamous with him, and you have told her to tell him this isn't possible, “but she likes him very much.” Whoa, wait a minute: what?! Is your wife actually entertaining the idea of ending her sexual relationship with you, so as to give this other guy what he wants? Or is she merely hoping to string him along, because she is worried that saying a firm “no” to monogamy with him will mean the end of their relationship? I would suggest that the first thing you do is get clear on why your wife is resisting this much-needed talk with her boyfriend. The foundation of every successful relationship is mutual trust and respect. And, in my opinion, trust and respect is best fostered by being who you say you are. If your wife would be willing to change the parameters of her relationship with you in order to please her boyfriend, then she needs to tell you so. If, on the other hand, she is not willing to change the parameters of her relationship with you, then she needs to be upfront with her boyfriend about where she stands. She cannot hope to have a healthy relationship with either of you unless she understands her own priorities and is willing to be honest about them.

Concern #2: You can't find anyone who is interested in joining an existing open relationship. Well, my friend, join the club! And by that, I mean the club my boyfriend and I went to a couple of weeks ago, where we spotted a coltish beauty dressed up as a unicorn, horn and all. (We assumed, of course, that her costume was a deliberate advertisement to couples searching for that rarest of beasts: the hot bi babe whose sole ambition in life is to be a third wheel on the Tricycle of Love.) Seriously, though, “we can't find someone who wants to date both of us” is a very common complaint among couples in open marriages. There are different philosophies about how to deal with this problem, but I think relationships should be allowed to develop organically. The successful triads I know all formed in one of three ways: either one member of a couple formed an intimate relationship with a third person, who then, over time, became closer to the other member of the couple; or an open couple and a single person started out as friends only, and eventually, with no pressure from the couple whatsoever, the single person became curious enough to ask about exploring something more; or two couples got together and one person dropped out of the quad. Remember, relationships between three individuals are four times more complicated than relationships between two people [A+B, A+C, B+C, and A+B+C vs. simply A+B], and therefore they take more time to develop and require more time to maintain. I think it's unwise to go looking for someone who is ready to sign up for a serious relationship with a couple without some pre-existing intimacy – either romantic intimacy with one member of the couple, or friendly intimacy with both. If you did manage to find such a person, the relationship would be unlikely to work out in the long run.

Concern #3: You keep getting your heart broken, because you are looking for love from the women you date, and the women you date are merely looking for a good time. In other words, what you want doesn't match up with what they want. So, I have to ask you: what are you doing to communicate your hopes, desires, and expectations to the women you go out with, and what are you doing to encourage them to communicate theirs to you? Do you present your situation accurately, or are you being misleading? Yes, I get it that nothing screams “Fun!” like a two-hour conversation about relationship expectations. I'm not suggesting that you bring your NVC manual and a talking stick on every first date. I'm suggesting that you hold off on falling in love with people until you get to know each other well enough to have a real conversation about what each of you is looking for. (Okay, maybe you can't hold off on falling in love – but you can hold off on developing expectations about exactly where the relationship is going to go, and try to just enjoy what is there, even if it isn't everything you're hoping it might turn out to be. The problem is that you are becoming attached to a certain outcome before you know whether that outcome is even possible.)

Now, to answer the question you asked. There is a simple solution to your dilemma, but it's not a quick fix. It will take time and patience and an unwavering commitment to showing up as your real self in all your relationships.

Are you ready? Here it is: restrict your dating pool to people who already identify as non-monogamous. It may be more difficult for you and your wife to find such people where you live, but I'm pretty sure it can be done. Berlin is a large city in a generally progressive country, and I would be surprised indeed if there weren't at least a dozen like-minded folks within a dozen kilometers of where you live. Your best chance of finding them is by being open about being open. If that is not a risk you are willing to take, try selectively expanding your social circle. Work on making new friends who are more open to the idea of open relationships. I hear the Internet is a great place to meet people who are pre-selected to share a specific interest of yours: if geocachers and rat fanciers and HAM radio enthusiasts can find each other online, so can poly people! Dating sites that cater to people in alternative relationships, or at least that do not require you to be single in order to have a profile on their site, are especially useful in this regard. I met many of my current poly friends via OKCupid. Even though I had an active profile for only a few months, several years back, I got to know some great people during that period of time – and since then, those people have introduced me to other great people (some of whom they originally met on OKCupid). 

Good luck! If it helps to imagine me here on the west coast of the USA, shaking my virtual pom-poms and cheering you on, please feel free. 

Shnuppdiwupp & Alioop,

Viny