More on Polyamory and Parenting: Exploring Some Possible Drawbacks

Dear Viny,

I read your post on poly and parenting a while back, and I'm writing because I hope there is room here for a real discussion about the possible drawbacks to raising kids in this setting. The truth is, while being poly is vital to my current well-being, I'm not so sure it's great for my little kid. There are the obvious extra time demands. But also, I think it can be detrimental to kids to have adults shifting in and out of their lives and homes. I say that as someone who experienced discomfort in childhood around partners of my (divorced) parents I didn't like.

I always thought I'd be the type of poly parent to be building long-term relationships involving the intertwining of families, and I didn't understand people who kept their relationships separate. After my non-primary partner and I broke up recently, I began to respect that choice more. I have this amazing photo of my 2 y.o., smiling widely, hugging my ex-partner tightly. It was taken less than a week before he initiated our break up. I am pretty haunted by that photo. I'm not blaming my ex for anything (he is an awesome person); I'm pointing out that I didn't fully understand what I was getting into when I involved my kid socially in my relationships.

Obviously, issues that are difficult for kids can pop up in any kind of relationship; poly isn't special that way. But, because poly relationships are under such scrutiny, and we feel we need to be protective and defensive and rah rah rah about them, we don't always explore the negatives. I'm not asking you for advice. I'm just wondering what your perspective is.

– Considering the Cons

***

Dear Considering,

I have an eighteen-year-old son who is getting ready to move out at the end of the summer. Whether he goes to the University of Oregon (the parent-approved Plan A) or finds a job that pays well enough that he can afford to rent an apartment with his girlfriend (the not-yet-discussed, not-so-appealing-to-his-parents Plan B), we've got another three months with him, at most. We'll still see him regularly, no doubt, but in a very real sense, we'll be letting him go.

And man, am I ever going to miss him.

Maybe because I am reaching the end of full-time, functional parenting with my son, I have been feeling nostalgic and contemplative, thinking a lot about what I have learned over the course of his childhood. What went well? What do I wish I could do over, and how would I do it differently the second time around? Questions like these aren't purely hypothetical, in my case: I also have a seven-year-old daughter. So I appreciate this timely opportunity to tackle the topic of poly parenting again, this time focusing on the possible negatives.

I do agree with you that there are cons – some of them considerable – to raising children in a poly context. And I think you've put your finger on two of the biggies: 1) parents who are trying to maintain multiple intimate adult relationships probably end up with less time for their children; and 2) poly households may be less stable, overall, because more people often means more chaos. I also think that there are cons you didn't mention in your letter, such as the possibility that children with poly parents will experience difficulty reconciling the different, and often discordant, messages they receive about love and relationships from parents, peers, extended family, and the wider culture.

I have to tell you, though, that my own personal list of parental regrets does not include anything very poly-specific. I wish I hadn't been afraid to let my son co-sleep with us as a baby. I wish I had been more patient with him as a small child. I wish I had been better about giving him permission to express his emotions, even when those emotions were hugely inconvenient for me. I wish I had involved him in more body-centered activities that he might have enjoyed, instead of giving up when he didn't immediately take to soccer. I wish I had paid more attention, been more fully present, when he used to prattle on about Bionicles or Legos or Bugdom or Harry Potter or Magic (the card game), or any of his other childhood obsessions, even though his monologues made my eyes glaze over and my brain go numb. Sometimes I think I might have been better able to focus on Denali and his interests if I hadn't been so distracted by my own interests, and it is definitely true that adult relationships have been a huge interest of mine. But I suspect that the real problem was my youthful self-absorption (I was only 22 when I gave birth to Denali), rather than polyamory per se.

I do often wonder what lessons – positive and negative – my son has learned from watching me and my husband interact, both with each other and with our other long-term partners. And I wonder how those lessons will manifest later, in his own intimate relationships. The jury is still out on that one. It may be that there are future regrets that haven't come into focus yet, or poly-specific parenting pitfalls I will really wish I had avoided once it becomes apparent I already fell into them long ago, bringing my kids down with me.

One thing I can say for certain, however, is that I do not regret involving either of my children socially in any of my relationships, or the relationships of any of my partners or ex-partners. Yes, some of those relationships have involved some drama, and even, on occasion, a bit of dysfunction. Yes, not all of those relationships have lasted. But every one of my partners, and every one of my partners' partners, has been a person well worth knowing. Every one of them has enriched my life, and therefore – either directly or indirectly – the lives of my children as well.

My perspective, Considering, is that you do not need to worry about having exposed your child to an awesome person. I think your child's bond with your ex-partner will turn out to have been a good thing, on balance. The photo that's haunting you now? The one in which your two-year-old is tightly hugging your ex-partner? That's your proof. From your perspective, it may be a painful memento, something that stirs up sadness, regret, and resentment – but I'm willing to bet that the memories it evokes for your two-year-old, if any, are basically positive. (Now, if your kid had felt uncomfortable around your ex-partner, that would be a different story. I sympathize with your desire not to subject your kid to the negative experiences you had as a child with your parents' panoply of successive partners. I think it behooves us as parents to be careful about the people we bring into our children's lives. Personally, though, I wouldn't consider dating anyone I didn't feel comfortable introducing to my children.) 

I do understand why you might want to shield your child from the disappointment of bonding with someone you're dating, only to have that person up and disappear. However, losing people we love is just a reality of life. Whether you like it or not, your child is going to develop meaningful relationships with all kinds of disappearing acts: friends who move far away; favorite teachers who retire; lovers who write break-up letters; close relatives who succumb to dementia or mental illness or addiction or cancer. I believe that one of the best lessons we can teach our children is not to let fear of loss limit our ability to love. Love always entails loss, and it's always worth it. That's my opinion, anyway.

Since this post could use a bit of levity at this point, I'm going to leave you with one of those “you can't make this shit up” stories we parents love to tell about our children, this one courtesy of my daughter, who is always coming up with quotable quotes I'm way too embarrassed to post on Facebook: the other day, as I was bending over to retrieve a clean bra from my underwear drawer, Sienna observed, “Did you know that your breasts look kind of like twin baby koalas hanging onto their mama?”

The moral of this story is that no matter what you think of yourself -- as a polyamorous parent, or just as a person -- your children are very likely to have a completely different perspective. And you may or may not find it flattering.

Kids. Ya gotta love 'em.

Snickers and Doodles,
Viny

Am I a Fool for Opening My Marriage, Or Can I Learn to Be Okay with My Wife Having a Lover?

Dear Viny,

I have been in a long term relationship for the last 10 years, most of my adult life. We are recently married, and have always been very strong together. About 4 months ago my wife asked if we could open our marriage and try polyamory. She also indicated that she had developed a crush on one of our friends. I had thought about poly before and had imagined we might end up there one day. I also imagined that I could get some benefit from it. My wife came at it from an angle of being in a strong place in our relationship, but feeling like we could get more, if we opened ourselves up to love beyond our marriage. With all this in mind I agreed that we could try it. She had been thinking about it for a while and reading quite a lot. Within a week she had kissed the friend and struck up a relationship. I busied myself with reading and thinking but was not quite happy. There was a lot of fear, jealousy and unhappiness – too much to really get into the details, but I imagine you know the deal. I was mainly afraid that she was so excited by this new man and by this new lifestyle that she would realise she didn't actually need me. She always denied this though and insisted that she really does want me, but also wants a polyamorous relationship. At one point it got too much for me and I asked her to call it off while I spent time getting my head right. I also have a very stressful job that is at its worst and is really damaging my happiness and self-esteem, and it is mingling in with this relationship stuff to really make me an anxious wreck. It is one month later and we have done a ton of reading, talking, thinking, fighting, and crying, and we have also had some good times within that. She would now very much like to go back to her lover, and I want her to be happy. I also do feel like I can get behind us being polyamorous, but it is very difficult to adjust to. The feelings of fear and jealousy are stronger than ever and I am not sure what to do. I feel so conflicted, because I want to be the type of person who is ok with this, I want to be less jealous, possessive and weird. I want her to be happy, and I want to be happy too. I want to meet new people, but I am not quite there yet from a confidence point of view. I have now told her that it is ok for her to go back to the lover, but I am conflicted. I think that part of me is letting her do that out of fear of her resenting me for not letting her do it, part of me really wants to be ok with the whole thing and thinks I can get ok with it, and part of me really doesn't want it. I am also not sure if it is just because of who it is with – the friend is someone I respect and feel inadequate in comparison to, and I also have to see him quite a lot because of our friendship circle.

Really, I am just wondering if I am a fool for thinking that I can adjust to this and get ok with it, even though I feel quite scared. Is it better for me to tell my wife to break it off completely, rather than toying with her emotions while I am uncertain? Or should I just let it happen and attempt to sort myself out while it goes on? Any advice would be most welcome.

- Space Ghost

***

Dear Space Ghost,

In your travels through the ether, have you by chance come across an article titled “Lasting Relationships Come Down To 2 Basic Traits”? If not, read it. It's interesting. But in case you're not in the mood for clickbait right now, I'll do you a favor and give you the Cliff's Notes version: the two basic traits are kindness and generosity.

Please keep those traits in mind as you read on, because we'll be getting back to them.

This morning, I read your letter aloud to my husband. We were still in bed, and I didn't have my contacts in, which meant I had to hold my cell phone practically against my nose to read the words. Parker was holding the sheet to his nose, as he often does when he's in bed, awake, and deep in thought. I'm telling you this so you get the picture: two sets of naked shoulders; two noses, both covered by something; two sets of eyes; two heads of messy hair (his looks much better messy than mine does, though). We've known each other for thirty years, Parker and I: we met in sixth grade, when we were both eleven.

“This person sounds so much like you would have sounded, if you had written a letter back in the early days, when I was first with Scott,” I said. “So, I'm curious: if you could say one thing to this Space Ghost guy, what would it be?”

“Hmmm – one thing?” Here Parker's voice descended about an octave: “Dude – it sounds like you got 99 problems, and your b*tch ain't one.” Then he added, in his normal tone, “You did want the ultra masculine perspective, right?”

He explained that your actual problems, as he saw them, were these: 1) your job is stressing you out and damaging your happiness and self-esteem; 2) you don't have a crush on anyone (which means that opening your marriage has not brought you a sense of excitement or heightened possibility); and 3) you are using your social network to fuel your own feelings of inadequacy, rather than as a source of support.

So, okay, only three problems, not ninety-nine. I hope that softens the “tough love” blow.

Is it possible, my dear Casper, that your relationship with your wife is the One Really Good Thing about your life? It sounds like you've pinned all of your happiness and all of your self-worth to that relationship. If so, that's a BIG reason why this new development is driving you to distraction and despair. Not because your relationship with your wife is a problem, but because it's the only thing that isn't a problem. What happens if you lose your One Really Good Thing? You'll be left with nothing, that's what. No wonder you're so scared.

I'm not much of one for trotting out Biblical parables, since religion is a sore subject with me (I grew up Mormon, and am still recovering), but have you heard the one about the three servants who got different amounts of money? Their master was going away on a business trip or something, and he wanted them to steward his money, with the hope that they'd increase his wealth in his absence. He gave one servant ten talents, and another five talents, and the last he gave one talent. The guy with ten talents went and bought something, like probably sheep (I'm getting this all wrong, but it's the basic gist that matters), and the sheep had lambs, which he sold for a profit, so when the master returned, he had twenty talents to show. And the second guy went and bought, I dunno, let's say grapes, and made them into wine, which he sold for a profit, so when the master returned, he had ten talents instead of just five. But the guy who only got one talent was so worried about losing what little he had that he buried the money – and then forgot where it was.

I don't see kindness or generosity in that parable, but it is a cautionary tale about what can happen when we are so afraid of losing our One Good Thing that we in fact cause our worst fears to come true.

Here's my advice. I think you should believe your wife when she tells you she still loves you and needs you. I think that instead of treating your relationship with her like it's the problem, you should tackle your real problems – your shitty job, your feelings of inadequacy, your competitive crappola – with a “can-do” attitude. I think you should work on strengthening your capacity for kindness and generosity in all your relationships – with your wife, and with her new lover (who is also your friend, after all), and definitely, most definitely, with yourself.

Whenever you are faced with a “how do I deal with this?” conundrum, and you are evaluating possible action steps, just ask yourself, “Is this approach as kind and generous as I am capable of being?” Telling your wife and your friend to break things off completely? Not so much. Toying with their emotions while you are uncertain? Um, nope. Just letting it all do whatever it does while you flounder and flail, even though that is going to make you feel like absolute shit, because the other guy is better than you and beggars can't be choosers and all that? Also a big fat “En Oh spells NO.”

You're a thoughtful person, S.G., and you have good intentions. You're also clearly struggling with feelings of low self-worth. That's a normal (albeit super sucky) side-effect of jealousy, but it also sounds like you're self-critical even when you are not feeling jealous. Use this as an opportunity to work on becoming a better you – namely, someone you yourself can depend upon to be kind and generous – and I promise you, it will get better.

Yes, unfortunately, it may get worse before it gets better. And after it's gotten better, it may get worse again before it gets better again, but overall, it does get better. (Yes, I'm borrowing a phrase, because it's perfectly applicable to your situation.) Please remember that I'm saying this as someone who has been in your position. I'm saying this as someone who knows many other people who have been in your position. I'm saying this as someone who is intimately familiar with the conflicting thoughts and emotions you describe, and I am telling you, it gets better. I hope that helps.

Spring rains & slow gains,

Viny

The Joys (and Dangers?) of Living in a Poly-Friendly Bubble

A couple of days ago, my 87-year-old co-housing neighbor -- I'll call her Claire -- told me she had been meaning to ask me about my "alternative lifestyle." We were hanging out together while I made her some dinner, because her regular caretaker was sick and her back-up caretaker was out of town. Claire is a 4-foot-10-inch dynamo, sharp as a tack, but she had a stroke a couple of years ago and does better with some daily assistance. She and I proceeded to have a completely comfortable conversation, with her at the sink washing strawberries she had just picked from her garden plot and me chopping vegetables for soup. It went something like this:

Claire: I'm just so curious. How does it work for people like you, who have more than one partner? Are you able to be honest about it with the children? What do they know?

Me: At this point, it just works, you know? Everyone gets along, everyone's fine, it's all good. As for the kids, they know the whole story, basically. We told Denali [age 18] about our open marriage when he was about nine. And I just explained it to Sienna [age 7] a couple of weeks ago, actually: she said to me one morning, totally out of the blue, "Mama, you have two boyfriends." I said, "Oh? Who are they?", and she said, "Cam and Daddy, of course!"

Claire: She figured it out! What a smart girl!

Me: She totally did. So then I said, "A lot of people have just one boyfriend or girlfriend at a time, but some people have more than one." And that was really all she needed to hear.

Claire: I suppose it's just normal for her. She's used to it by now.

Me: Exactly. It's not a big deal. I wasn't sure, when we first moved here, what people were going to think. But everyone has been really accepting, not judgemental at all. And it's also great that everyone seems to like both Parker and Cam. I mean, of course they would: they're both great -- each in his own way. They're very different from each other.

Claire: I'll say! Very different!

Me: Well, Claire, here's a tip from me, just in case you ever want to join the polyamorous club: if you're going to have more than one man around, you don't want them to be exactly the same as each other. What would be the point of that?

Claire [laughing]: Of course not -- they need to be different! I think it's simply marvelous, the way you have it all arranged.

This exchange stood out to me, not because it was in any way uncommon, but because it reminded me how uncommonly lucky I am. These days, most of the non-poly people I meet are like Claire: curious about how my life "works," but completely open to the idea that it does work. However, not everyone who chooses to be open about being open is going to get such a friendly reception from the neighbors. Some people in alternative relationships would be risking social censure, or worse, if they were "out" about their lifestyle.

There are places in the world where adultery is still considered a punishable offense. There are people -- women, mostly -- who have been stoned to death for far less than I have done.

Which means there are people out there who believe that someone like me deserves to die.

It's easy to forget that. I mean, I live in an ecovillage in the Pacific Northwest, among urban gardeners, political activists, nomads, and hipsters. It's a very poly-friendly bubble. You can't throw a set of hand-carved tribal ear plugs or a gluten-free, saffron-scented macaron into the Portland crowd without hitting one of us. On the second Sunday of every month, I get together with a group of a dozen other poly mamas. It's just normal for us. We're used to it. We're lucky.

A Buddhist's Critique of Polyamory

This morning, as I was contemplating what I ought to write about, now that I am free to swim in the topical seas of polyamory like a parasailing jellyfish every Tuesday, letter or no letter, I came across this article from the creators of the movie Monogamish (not yet released), and I thought to myself: bingo.

Aptly titled "A Buddhist's Insights: Sustaining Love in Relationships," the article is about what an emotionally and spiritually mature relationship looks like. It's also a pretty harsh critique of polyamory. Says Fabrizio Chieza, "From what I have seen over the years, people who preach about...open relationships, no matter how eloquent they may be about the philosophy behind it, do so for fundamentally selfish reasons."

Them's fightin' words. 

Here are some more excerpts of what Chieza has to say (in blue), followed by my comments:

If you don’t try to deeply know yourself, to see how conditioned you are, and how most of the time you are not really acting but just reacting, if you never trained yourself to observe your emotions and thoughts, to see how compulsive and repetitive they are, and you never tried to unroot the negative ones, then you will never be able to have a stable and healthy relationship — and monogamy will feel like a prison. Your relationship with your partner will always be conditional on how well he or she caters to your needs and wants. In the same way that we tend to alternate moments of self-loathing with moments of self-adoration, we do the same with our partners. More so even, we keep projecting on our successive partners our own frustrations and humiliations. When you’ll be bored with yourself, you’ll be bored with them. And when you’ll want to hurt and sabotage yourself, you’ll hurt them.

I agree with him completely here -- but I resent the implication that anyone who feels like monogamy is a prison is someone who has failed to develop the self-knowledge and discipline required to treat oneself and others well.

[O]nly emotionally and spiritually mature people can have an occasionally open relationship without inevitably losing their partner’s TRUST.

Again, agreed. But what's with the word "occasionally" here? Well, it turns out that Chieza is not categorically opposed to extramarital (or extra-couple) sex:

If both partners in a couple really aspire to make the other person happy, the right compromises about sexual exclusivity can be made. That means that one, or both, could allow the other to have occasional sexual encounters with third parties when it’s not the self-defeating repetition of a compulsive craving, but rather something that will truly make your beloved happy, and strengthen your friendship.

Aha: so, "occasional sexual encounters" with "third parties" might be okay, in certain situations, but an actual relationship with someone other than the one person you're supposed to be all couple-y with, now that is a different story! Because, as we all know, The Couple is the end-all, be-all of human relating: human beings come in halves; only by finding your better half can you become a whole entity; and since only two halves are required to make one whole, any person outside the couple is by definition "extra" -- a gift to be given, an indulgence allowed.

[Which brings me to my biggest concern with the Monogamish movie, and the term "monogamish" in general: Does that "ish" do nothing more than disguise the fact that we're actually still mired in business-as-usual bullshit? Does it reinforce the idea that relationship equals ownership? Is it another excuse for "couple privilege" and the messes it makes (e.g., failing to treat "third parties" ethically, because one's real allegiance is to the almighty couple and only to the two people therein)? I guess we'll see....]

If I am in a swinging relationship to begin with, let alone a polyamorous one, it will be even easier to leave that main partner who has become a burden. The “polyamorous community” has tried to deal with this problem by making up a set of rules (uh oh, here we go again), a little bit like the rules at swinger parties: when your main relationship is in trouble, you should abstain from seeing other sexual partners — unless you decided to break up — until the problem is resolved … Sounds great, but no one really follows those rules when they become too uncomfortable or inconvenienced. Who’s going to enforce them anyway? Not the church, not the government, not the neighbors. And your friends most of time will just say whatever you want to hear.

Whoa: "...let alone a polyamorous one"? And what's with the scare quotes around "polyamorous community"?

Tell us how you really feel about polyamory, Chieza.

They want some stability for the down times, but also excitement in the high times. More importantly they want to keep their options open, and keep experiencing the thrill of ego-boosting seduction. Contemporary Western society which promotes both self-affirmation and the myth of romantic love encourages this kind of attitude. It’s a consumeristic, opportunistic, A.D.D. approach to human relationship. 

There we have it. Apparently, people who practice polyamory are not capable of the kind of discipline, devotion, and commitment that sustainable relationships require. We're all so busy running after the Next New Shiny that we never learn the Really Important Stuff -- namely: 

• The less egocentric you become, the more generous and kind your love becomes, and the more you want to allow your partner to be fulfilled — in any way, including sexually. You may even offer your wonderful lover to a friend who you think would benefit from his/her attentions.
• The deeper you understand that everything changes constantly, the more equanimity you will have if the relationship evolves, and goes through unsettling stages. You know that the tough times will pass too.
• The more you know who and what you really are, the less you’ll be afraid to be alone. Therefore the more you’ll be able to love another human being without losing your center, without betraying your true self. The less afraid you are to be dumped, the less you’ll be inclined to make pre-emptive strikes.
• The more you learn to trust your life, with all its inevitable disappointments and contradictions, the more you can accept contradiction from your partner, and deal with it skillfully.
 
Funny -- I would've said these are all things I have learned in my polyamorous relationships. (Well, except that bit about the Limited Time Offer, the loophole through which I give MY lover to MY friend, temporarily, if I feel like sharing.) Huh.

Best Time-Management Tip Ever (When You're Poly and In Demand)

Dear Viny,

I'm writing because I am looking for time management strategies for people in multiple relationships. Everyone in my life is important, and I don't see who or what I could cut out, but I feel overwhelmed sometimes. I feel bad for complaining, since I know I am lucky to have so much love in my life. There are people that would appreciate being in even just one relationship. Yet, it's like no matter what I decide to do in the free time I have (which is not a lot), I am worried someone is feeling left out, or I think I am probably forgetting something crucial, or getting way behind on something I should be attending to. Do you have any suggestions for how to fix this?

Thanks,

Stressed Out

***

Dear Stressed,

When I was in graduate school, I had to put together a dissertation committee that included members who were specifically outside my area of expertise, and that meant approaching professors I didn't know well. In response to my humble request for a tiny smidge of his valuable time, one guy – we'll call him Dr. Snooty Bigname – came out with this gem: “Everyone wants a piece of my action.” I almost laughed, until I saw that he was completely serious. Ever since then, whenever I or one of my partners complains about not having enough time, someone will tease, “Aw, poor popular baby! Everyone wants a piece of your action!”

It's tough being in demand, isn't it? And part of what makes it so tough is that you feel like a total heel if you complain about it. First-world problems, and all that.

Yes, Stressed, there are probably people out there who only *wish* they were dealing with your issues right now. It's good to have some perspective, to realize that you are indeed very fortunate. But don't let your gratitude turn into guilt. Those of us who are rich in relationships do have problems we have to address, and feeling like “everyone wants a piece of my action, but there's not enough of me to go around” can be a real challenge.

I could write for hours on this topic – but unfortunately, I don't have hours at my disposal right now. I have 30 minutes, if that. So here's what I am going to do: I'm gonna skip all the advice about scheduling and identifying priorities and all that, and go straight to my Number One Tip for How to Feel Like You Have Enough Time for All the Very Important People in Your Life, which is actually super simple:

Start with yourself, and spend some quality time alone.

I'm serious. When did you last give yourself the kind of attention you're giving to others? When did you last devote a substantial amount of time to self-care (without worrying that you were somehow “wasting” time you could have spent connecting with loved ones)? If your answer is, “Um...???”, then you have indeed been neglecting your most important responsibility.

It may seem counter-intuitive to spend more time alone when you're already concerned that you aren't spending enough time with other people, but you have to remember that there is an inverse correlation between how stressed out you feel and how “there” you are able to be for someone else. If your emotional reserves are depleted, you have nothing to give. Obvious? Maybe. Or maybe not. In my experience, introverts are better at monitoring that blinking “need to refuel” light on their internal dashboards; those of us who are more extroverted are too often running on fumes before it occurs to us that we'd better pop into the “Me Time” station for some much-needed petrol if we don't want to break down in rush-hour traffic. Whether you are introverted or extroverted, though, it is an undeniable truth that being in multiple intimate relationships takes more energy. Which means you are actually going to have to refuel more often than someone in one relationship, not less.

I wish I could say more, but this is going to have to suffice for now, because I'm off to the Oregon coast for my annual “two days all to myself” retreat. Should you happen to run into me, sitting alone in a cafe with my cup of clam chowder, or running along the beach, a lone figure against a backdrop of ocean and windswept sand, please don't say hello. ;-)

Seashells and Sympathy,

Viny

Tuesdays with Viny

Dearest Readers,

I know, I know: I'm completely subverting the “advice column” paradigm I've set up here, but I have an important announcement to make.

Drumroll, please....

I have decided to write a post every week, whether or not I have a letter to answer. Today officially marks the first installment of Tuesdays with Viny.

(Note: I read something yesterday about how it's important not to tell others about your goals, because research since the 1930's has apparently confirmed that people who share their goals are less likely to achieve them. So I would just like to state, for the record, that writing a post every Tuesday is a plan, not a goal.)

So, a little bit about how this is going to work:

No, I won't be changing the name of my blog. It's still going to be called Dear Viny. And I'll continue to post responses to people who've written in with questions, of course. I do respond to every letter I get, at least briefly, even though I don't post every exchange on my blog. It's just that I no longer want my content to be so limited by my form. I am looking forward to exploring topics I think are relevant and interesting, even if no one else is talking about them (yet). So, as always, dearest readers, please feel free to communicate with me. I'd love to hear from you, whether or not you need advice – you're most welcome to give me topic suggestions, or share your own perspective about something I've said, or ask for clarification, or whatever.

Now that I've gotten the big announcement out of the way, let me tell you how the idea of Dear Viny was first conceived, just 'cause I've been feeling all nostalgic and reflective lately (prolly has to do with the fact that my eighteen-year-old son will be heading off to college in a few months...sniff, sniff).

Dear Viny actually has three “parents” – isn't that just perfectly apropos?

1) My previous blog, Viny's Little Black Book, which I retired right before moving to Portland in June of 2011. When I began that blog, I had no intention of keeping it going indefinitely, and it was a relief to write the concluding post. There is something really disconcerting about putting one's private life – and the lives of family, friends, and lovers – on display, even in anonymous/pseudonymous mode. However, after few months went by, I found myself really missing that particular writing relationship. So I started a new blog under my real name, a totally-safe-for-work series of meta-musings on writing and creativity, but I quickly bored of the project. I was craving juice, not some recursive postmodern frappe served by up by mimes in ironic hats.

2) My envy of Cheryl Strayed. I had just read Wild (this was before the movie was even announced). Wild is about Strayed's adventures hiking the Pacific Crest Trail – which I happen to've hiked with my husband in 1994. Well, okay, we hiked part of it: 1,100 miles, north to south, from Ashland, Oregon, to just south of Mount Whitney in California. I kept a detailed journal on that journey, and had always thought that I might one day use it in my writing somehow. But now it was too late: Cheryl Strayed had already planted her flag in that fertile ground. Then I read Tiny, Beautiful Things: Advice on Love and Life from Dear Sugar. That book is a collection of letters Strayed wrote while working as an advice columnist for The Rumpus. Another me-shaped niche fully occupied by Cheryl Strayed. The lady had not only managed to beat me to my book about the PCT, but she'd also managed to land my dream job. Well, fuck, I thought, what does the world need me for? It's got Cheryl. (Classic green-eyed monster malarky, for sure.)

3) Getting asked, for the third time in a week, for relationship advice by someone I hardly knew. Ever since I decided to start “coming out” as polyamorous (my version of polyamorous, anyway – we can quibble about terms 'til the cows come home, but who really wants to be standing in semantic bullshit at sunset?), I have been fielding relationship questions nearly nonstop – or so it sometimes seems. Let's say I go to coffee with an acquaintance, and the subject of some sex scandal comes up, and I mention that my spouse and I are not monogamous. That, in fact, I am happily involved in more than one long-term, committed relationship. The initial response is usually something like, “Oh, really? Huh, that's...interesting,” followed by a blank look, as they “check out” of the conversation in order to process this bizarre bit of trivia. More often than not, the very next meaningful thing out of their mouths is some kind of intimate confession. It might take two minutes, or it might take two weeks, but when they are ready to check back in, they often have a secret to share. It's odd. Saying, “I'm in an open marriage” is apparently the emotional, relational equivalent of saying “open sesame”: utter the magic words, and people reveal themselves.

So, put those three things together – I missed writing in my little black book; I realized it was absurd to think there wasn't enough room for me and Cheryl in this great big world; I was reminded that there are people out there who might value my perspective and appreciate my help – and presto!

Maybe another time, on some Tuesday in the future, I'll share some highlights from Dear Viny's first couple of years. I know y'all can't wait! ;-)

Exit polls & Jellyrolls,

Viny

Secretly Non-Monogamous -- And Secretly Non-Confused

Dear Viny,

I am not poly, nor have I ever been in a poly relationship. But I am not quite monogamous. I have a history of having what one would call multiple significant others without it being defined as such, to anyone. Looking back now, I know that yes, I had a partner and a boyfriend, but at the time I didn't know.

Now, I have decided to explore polyamory. I would like to explore it with the person I am in love with (and vice versa), who I have a very intense, intimate relationship with, though we are not together.

In fact, he's in a relationship, with a strictly monogamous woman (will not even discuss "alternative" relationships, and the one time it was brought up with me present she openly scorned it) who he knows that it's only temporary with: he's got feelings for her, but in a idealised, puppy love, idolisation way, which I don't see to be healthy, and he has admitted it's probably not, but it will help him know what he really wants in the future, because being with her would be a stable relationship, which he's not used to.

It's all very frustrating, because she does not trust me around him and I am very hurt by him, and it doesn't make it any easier that he and I share a house together, just the two of us.

What doesn't make it any easier at all is that since they got together (it's a very new relationship, less than a month), he and I have continued to be our usual intimate selves, and as we've discussed, for a long time we have been in a non-committed, non-monogamous relationship, and we still kind of are.

But she doesn't know. She knows that he wants to explore alternative relationships in the future, and that he has not been that faithful in the past, but said she will help him work through all that --   meaning help him be strictly monogamous, which he's told me he does not feel is right for him.

I don't feel like what we are doing is wrong, as it's how we've been for a long, long time. He is in love with me, and I am with him, which she knows and apparently accepts and respects. We have just chosen to work on our own growth and development as individuals before we try a proper relationship with each other, and in the mean time, other relationships can and should happen for us to continue to grow.

Should our friendship dynamics change just because of his new relationship? Should we put up boundaries? Is he cheating on her by being close with me? Even if he's not, is it wrong that she doesn't know that we're still physically close and intimate?

Any help would be wonderful.

Regards,

Non-Monogamous and Confused

***

Dear Confused,

Let me see if I have this straight. There's this guy, and you're in love with him, and he's in love with you, in an emotionally intense and physically intimate sort of way, and this is how it's been between you for a long, long time. Oh, and you also share a house together, just the two of you. But you're not “together.”

(Wait...say what? Is there something I don't understand about the meaning of the word “together”?)

Okay, moving on: this guy, whom you may or may not be together with, has very recently begun dating a woman who identifies as strictly monogamous. And although he is sure strict monogamy isn't right for him, he has decided to pretend to give it a go, temporarily, because he desperately wants to try out what it's like being in a “stable” relationship.

(Um, yeah...sounds super “stable” to me. Kind of like, oh, I dunno, dropping a good-sized chunk of cesium into a glass of selzer water....)

Enough of that. Sarcasm stings, I know. I'm sorry. I hope you will forgive me for those snarky parentheticals, but I just could not resist. I have to call it like I see it. And the way I see it is this: you are, and have been, in a long-term relationship with someone who is currently refusing to acknowledge that fact, even to himself, because he happens to be besotted with a woman who would drop him like a flaming hot potato if she understood what was really going on between the two of you.

I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Confused, but your situation is actually pretty clear. It's classic. Your guy – no, you don't own him, but the two of you are together – is looking for ways to rationalize being unethically non-monogamous because he wants to keep you in his life AND he wants to keep fucking his new girl. At least for a little while longer. (Because, you know, stability.) Meanwhile, you are buying into this crazy-making bullshit because you love him, and the last thing you want to do is issue some stupid “her or me” ultimatum. Partly because you don't believe in making someone you love make that kind of choice, which is commendable, but also because – just admit it – you are secretly afraid he might end up choosing her over you. 

Your confusion is merely a smokescreen, sweetheart. You're hiding behind it because it's the only thing between you and sheer panic.

Let's take a couple of deep breaths now, you and me: breathe IN, breathe OUT; breathe IN, breathe OUT. Keep doing that until you feel the fear subside. It might take a while.

So. You're in a really tough spot, and all I can tell you is that ethical is rarely synonymous with easy. I wish I could give you step-by-step instructions for how to get yourself out of this emotional jam, but you're going to have to be your own guide. Luckily, you already have the answers to your own questions. The knowledge is inside of you; you only have to access it.

I suggest you find some time alone, as soon as possible, to reflect on where you are now, where you want to be five years in the future, and how you plan to get there from here. Go somewhere you won't be disturbed. Turn off your cell phone. Sit there in silence for a good long while. Take out a pen and a piece of actual paper, and write yourself a letter. Be as honest with yourself as you can, but don't be unkind. Put your fears into actual words. If you start feeling too agitated to think straight, take breaks to breathe. After you've written down everything you have to say to yourself, decide what course of action you want to take. Then follow through with it.

Periwinkles and starry twinkles,

Viny