Dangerous Memes: "If you truly love someone, being faithful is easy."

I would like to propose a couple of minor changes to this meme.

How 'bout this version: "If you truly love someone, and you like the idea of monogamy, and you and the someone in question either happen to be a great sexual match or you aren't the type to prioritize great sex in your relationships, then being faithful is easy, at least for the first year or two, and then it's not terribly difficult for a few more years after that, particularly if you have fun projects to do together (e.g., extreme sports; remodeling your house), after which it may not be a piece of vanilla wedding cake, exactly, but it's definitely still do-able assuming you and your partner continue to be on exactly the same page sexually, even though we all know that's really unlikely over the course of an entire lifetime (given the hormonal disruptions of pregnancy, nursing, and menopause, and the libido declines associated with regular ol' aging, not to mention traumatic life events and the increasing likelihood of physical illnesses, such as prostate cancer, that affect sexual functionality), just so long as both of you keep yourselves very busy, and neither of you ever meets a super-compelling someone else who expresses an interest in pursuing a sexual relationship with you -- because if that ever happens, it is going to be excruciatingly difficult to remain faithful."

Now, that's a meme I would feel good about posting. Oh, wait -- I just did. Anyone have a good panorama I could use for a backdrop?

***

On a similar note, I would like to challenge the person whose article on Elite Daily makes the case for a correlated claim: if you are finding sexual exclusivity difficult, it's because you aren't really in love.

Gigi Engle puts her thesis all in caps: "YOU CANNOT CHEAT ON SOMEONE YOU LOVE. IT IS IMPOSSIBLE."

If by "cheat on," she meant, "fail to honor explicit agreements with, ignore the physical and emotional well-being of, and just generally behave like a secretive asshole towards," then okay. But she's definitely defining cheating in the conventional way: engaging in sexual activity with someone other than your "official" romantic partner. 

"I’m repulsed by the thought of letting another guy touch me," says Gigi. "It makes my skin crawl." This is how she knows she truly loves and respects her current boyfriend -- unlike all those exes she compulsively cheated on, back in the day, before she discovered The Real Deal. And if you don't feel repulsed by the idea of someone other than your partner touching you? Well, that just proves that your feelings are "tepid." Any desire to stray is proof positive that "the two of you are not right for each other." Best move on immediately.

Them's fightin' words, Gigi. How long have you been with this boyfriend of yours, anyway? A year? A year and a half? I've been with my husband for twenty-two years. So, I'll tell you what. When you've been with your partner for as long as I've been with my husband, I will happily listen to what you have to say about real love, and how to tell if someone is right for you or not. Until then, I will assume that you have finally grown up enough to be in an intimate relationship, and that you got lucky: you met someone fantastic, someone who loves you the way you want to be loved, and you're both still under the influence of NRE hormones. Congratulations! You're right: people in your situation find it easy to be sexually exclusive, if that is something they and their partner desire. What you don't yet understand is that long-term relationships go through stages, and that you are setting yours up for failure if you use "I can't stand the thought of letting anyone else touch me" as the litmus test for true, enduring love.    

My Quibbles with Relationship Anarchy

In a post I wrote a few weeks ago, I suggested that we might want to come up with a term to describe a new relationship paradigm that is emerging, and that this term would ideally refer to a collection of ideas about relationships, rather than any particular set of practices. Several people left comments to the effect that such a term already exists: Relationship Anarchy.

Wikipedia's entry on Relationship Anarchy (abbreviated RA) defines it as “the practice of forming relationships which are not bound by rules aside from what the people involved mutually agree on.” Since RA's do not make any “formal distinction between sexual, romantic or platonic relationships,” their number of sexual partners – many, one, or none – is irrelevant: “Relationship Anarchists look at each relationship (romantic or otherwise) individually, as opposed to categorizing them according to societal norms.”

I had already heard of Relationship Anarchy, even before I began this blog. My ideas about relationships haven't arisen in an intellectual vacuum. I owe a lot to other thinkers and writers, some of whom identify as Relationship Anarchists.

It's not a label I want to apply to myself, though.

I am not a Relationship Anarchist. Why not? One word: duty.

I believe I have a moral obligation to put the good of the community over my needs as an individual, and to conduct my personal relationships in a way that maximizes sustainability.

I don't know any hardcore Relationship Anarchists who are active parents (that is, who are currently engaged in the process of raising children). This is not mere coincidence.

An article on Postmodern Woman, written by Olle Eckman, makes it clear that Relationship Anarchy is based on “the belief that no party should have to compromise, should have to feel as though they have to give something up, to be in a relationship with the other.” Try telling this to your average teenager – or his/her/their parents. The truth is, we all have to compromise in our relationships.

Not a single one of us can be self-sufficient over the entire course of our lives. It follows that we are collectively responsible for each other. Any one of us can choose to shirk our share of the responsibility, but we invariably do so at someone else's expense.

For example, take my parents' relationship. My father is losing his mind. My mother continues to care for him, even though he has become verbally abusive. No longer able to process language the way he once could, my father responds to any explanation longer than two sentences with a derisive, “That's garbage!” or “And your point would be...?” Twenty times a day, my mother gets put down this way. Yes, she could spare herself by pawning my father off onto someone else – there's always the overworked, underpaid staff at some nursing home! – but as long as he is alive, he is unavoidably in relationships with other people, whether they like it or not.

We all have to compromise, because not every relationship is freely chosen.

I didn't choose my parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, or cousins. I didn't choose my school teachers. I didn't choose my metamours. I didn't choose my kids' friends. It is perhaps because I have so many relationships I didn't choose that I value autonomy so highly in the relationships I can choose.

There is one other reason why I don't feel comfortable calling myself a Relationship Anarchist, which is that I was first introduced to RA by an article on The Thinking Asexual. It's an excellent primer, and you should definitely read the full post if you are interested in learning more about RA. However, I have to confess that I felt somewhat put off by implicitly judgmental rhetoric like this:

“A polyamorous person can be and often is just as much a sex supremacist or a romance supremacist as a monogamous person. That means, just like the vast majority of monogamists, a poly person can make their romantic and/or sexual relationships superior to their nonsexual/nonromantic relationships, solely on the basis of sex and romance.”

I value sex and romance. I want to be able to prioritize sexual and romantic relationships in my own life, without being called a “supremacist” by someone who does not prioritize the same things I do.

So there you have it: one major quibble, and one minor quibble.

Quibbles aside, there is a lot of great stuff out there on Relationship Anarchy. I highly recommend checking out Andie Nordgren's 2006 Short Instructional Manifesto for Relationship Anarchy and Ian Mackenzie's recent interview of Mel Mariposa (author of the blog Polysingleish).

How Many Lovers Can One Person Have?

Dear Viny,

If I can ask a personal question, how many relationships are you currently in? And do you find it emotionally taxing to be carrying on multiple separate relationships? I know a local girl who has about five relationships going on at any given time. I think I could not do that without hiring an assistant.

Thanks,
Too Introverted Really Emotional Doyenne

***

Dear TIRED,

Not to be coy, but I have to counter your question with a question: how are we defining “relationship”? The answer matters. Having stepped outside the pre-packaged “Relationships-R-Us” model of human connection, I have come to the conclusion that there is no consensus definition, no non-arbitrary way of distinguishing between relationships that “count” and those that don't.

I'm currently in dozens of relationships, if we're talking about significant connections with people who matter a lot to me.

Let's start with my immediate family: two life partners, and two children. Then there's my extended family: my parents, and my two siblings and their families. That brings the total to fifteen. Each of my partners has family members and significant others who are an important part of my life as well (metamours, in-laws, out-laws), for at least ten more people, so say twenty-five. Then there are my local friends, and the amazing women in my polymamas group – you know, good friends: people you go out with, people you invite to parties, people you love – and we're at forty. Now, let's talk about exes. Most of my exes are very dear to me; it's debatable whether there's any point in calling them exes. I am still on intimate terms with four people I once considered partners. There's also one person with whom I am currently exploring a prospective relationship: we're taking it “slow and meta” (his words), and who knows what roles we'll end up playing in each other's lives, ultimately, but there is a definite connection there. Finally, there are my non-local friends – you know, good friends: people you'd drop everything to go visit if they needed you, people you love – and we're already at fifty, easily.

If what you really want to know is how many people I have sex with on a regular basis, the answer is two. I could see bumping that number up to three, or – possibly, if conditions were perfect – four, but probably no more than that. (Actually, I have serious doubts about my ability to show up for more than three concurrent relationships, based on my historical record. There was that crazy summer of 2012, when I was divvying up date nights between my husband and three boyfriends, and it proved to be too much for me to handle: that configuration lasted all of four months.)

In my previous blog, I wrote a post that addressed this same question – “How many relationships is too many?” – by interviewing a “veteran poly” friend of mine, who said that his record was five concurrent relationships, and that five was definitely too many for him.

[Interesting tidbit: in tribes that believe in partible paternity – i.e., any male who has sexual relations with a pregnant female *also* becomes the father of her baby, which means a child can have multiple fathers – the optimal number of “fathers” seems to fall somewhere between two and three. Children with fewer than two fathers, and children with more than three fathers, do less well than children with at least two, but no more than three. Fascinating! I imagine there are also studies on polygynous family groups; note that Islam caps the number of permissible wives at four.]

There may be relationship savants out there who can manage five, or six, or even seven sexually charged, emotionally intimate relationships at the same time without causing an absolute trainwreck, but I am not among them – and that is totally okay by me. At this point in my life, I value sustainability, and I know my limits. It sounds like you do, too. No shame in that!

Harems & Theorems,
Viny

NRE, Jealousy, and the Ineffable Nature of Sexual Desire

Dear Viny,

My partner is in a new relationship, which has really increased his sex drive. You might not think this would be a problem, since just a few months ago I was complaining that I wished we had more sex, and we both agreed to try dating other people as a possible solution. However this is not what I was hoping for. The way he's acting just makes me feel gross, not sexy. He goes out with her, and then after he comes home he's all ready to go again. I wish I could believe that his desire had anything to do with me, but I can't. He is obviously only excited because of this new person he's seeing. I'm just the boring person he's lived with for the last four years. I don't want to be like the wife who stays at home waiting for her husband to get back from the strip club because that's the only way he can ever get it up. Just to put it bluntly, thinking that my partner might be thinking about another woman while he's fucking me makes me want to vomit. Help.

– Not Interested in Leftovers

***

Dear NIL,

Before I go any further, I need to mention the fact that it's four thirty-seven in the morning, and I'm sitting at my desk in a terrycloth robe, a striped sports bra, and an ice pack: my right breast was biopsied yesterday afternoon for a possible malignancy, which means that I'm now feeling quite sore. There are several reasons why I'm bringing this up. First of all, I don't want to be held responsible for the quality of my writing or anything “off” about my tone. It's crazy early, and I'm distracted by my own drama. Secondly, while I'd rather not admit this, I'm probably playing this situation up for effect (and sympathy). So...backpedaling a bit: chances are, I'm gonna be fine. The current screening technology for breast cancer is super sensitive, which is no doubt a good thing, but unfortunately the medical mantra in the U.S. seems to have become “first, don't get sued” instead of “first, do no harm.” Biopsies are the new black – everyone's getting them, whether they need them or not. This brings us to the third reason why I'm boring you with details about my personal life: I'm a person. Being a person means playing roles in other people's scripts, but there's not a single one of us who wants to be reduced to a role. I may be playing a bit part in the story of your life, as a disembodied dispenser of advice, but that's not who I am.

[Enough about me. Let's talk about you. What do you think about me?]

The point I am trying to make, in an admittedly circuitous and self-indulgent way, is that it is completely normal and natural for you to want your partner to treat you like a human being – and not just any human being, either, but you, your own self, in all your glorious, quirky, ineffable...selfness. And, since you happen to be in pain (the emotional distress of jealousy, in your case), it is also completely normal and natural to want your partner to acknowledge that pain, and to demonstrate some understanding and respect for your tender feelings, before he commences with his “How 'bout you help me with my hard-on?” program.

Let me gently suggest, however, that right now you may not be the best judge of where your partner is coming from (as it were). Jealousy casts a sickly green pall over everything. It makes you look bad. It makes your partner look bad. It makes your relationship look bad. If you are viewing the world through the distorting lenses of jealousy, then you ought to entertain the idea that you are misinterpreting your partner's motives and intentions. Maybe what's making you sick actually has very little to do with him, or anything he's doing with this new lady friend of his. Maybe it's all in your head.

Try this on for size: when your partner comes home from a date in a sexy mood, and he lets you know, either directly or indirectly, that he is interested in having sex with you, it's probably because he wants to have sex with you.

I don't know this, of course. It's possible that your guy is a total prick. Maybe he actually subscribes to the belief that one hole is the same as another. Maybe he thinks of you as nothing more than his fuck-toy – but only if he happens to feel like playing, and only if he gets to imagine you're Barbie while he's playing with you. In which case, you should kick his sorry ass to the curb, immediately. But assuming your guy is a decent human being, please give him the benefit of a doubt.

It is common knowledge that the heady hormonal cocktail known as NRE, or new relationship energy, is a strong libido-enhancer. What is less well-known is that people with multiple sexual partners often experience this temporary increase in sex drive as a more general phenomenon: that is, feeling excited about having sex with a new partner makes us feel more excited about having sex with our other partners, too. I've watched this happen many times: with me, with my partners, with poly friends and acquaintances – and (somewhat less reliably) with people who are cheating on someone. Speaking just from my own experience, an exciting date with an exciting new partner is likely to leave me in one of two moods: either I want some time alone afterward, so I can process my recent experience in private; or I really want to connect with my other partner(s), preferably by having sex a.s.a.p. (Sometimes I'm in both moods at the same time, which does present a dilemma.) If I'm feeling like I want to be by myself after a date with a new partner, it's not because I no longer find my “old” partner(s) desirable; it's simply because because I want to be fully present and focused on whomever I'm with, without feeling like I've got to repress certain memories and sensations in order to do so. If, on the other hand, I'm feeling like I want to reconnect, it's usually due to a complicated mix of some or all of the following: I'm still physically amped up; engaging with a new person has given me a renewed appreciation for all the things I love about my other partner(s); I am concerned about my other partner(s) feeling unloved or unappreciated, and I want to reassure them that isn't so; I am anxious that what I have just done will end up damaging my pre-existing relationship(s), and I want to reassure myself that isn't so; I'm feeling super hot, and it's fun to exercise my sexual power; I'm feeling loved and lucky, which makes me want to share my good fortune with everyone. The foregoing list is far from exhaustive, but I can assure you that “I get my jollies from taking advantage of people who are too stupid to realize I don't really care about them” isn't on it anywhere. I'll bet it isn't on your partner's list of motivations, either.

You might argue that it doesn't “count” if your partner wants to have sex with you because you're feeling bad, or because he's feeling good. You might argue that it doesn't “count” if his mojo was in any way influenced by anything other than pure, unalloyed lust for you-and-no-one-else, even though it would be exceptionally irrational to insist on that. Jealous people aren't known for being rational. Speaking from my own experience again: if one of my partners has an exciting date with an exciting new partner, and he doesn't make an obvious attempt to initiate sex with me immediately afterwards, I assume this is because every experience he's had with me has been completely eclipsed by this new experience, and I am no longer desirable to him, or to anyone else, which means I might as well shave my head and become a nun. If, on the other hand, he seems particularly eager to initiate sex with me, I assume it's not really about me at all, because, as we've just established, I am no longer desirable to anyone anymore, and if I allow myself to capitulate to his simulacrum of desire, or even to my own genuine desire, I will be demonstrating a complete lack of self-respect.

Believe me, I am familiar with the whole cascade of jealousy-related bullshit, which for me includes wild pendulum swings (desire → disgust → desire → disgust) whenever I have to contemplate opening myself up (read: allowing myself to be vulnerable) to someone who's just come from having sex with someone else. It's so predictable, I swear. Like fuckin' clockwork. At least by this point I know what to expect, and can attempt to have a little fun when I sense those gears beginning to grind in my brain. (I summed up my most recent episode of jealousy with one sentence in my journal: “My ovaries are gonna pout, now, because we got our feelie-weelies hurt and no longer feel special.”) 

Negotiating consensual sex under the influence of an NRE + jealousy combo is a complicated affair, Nil. It may be too much for you and/or your partner to handle right now, especially as you have evidently not yet worked through the issues around sex that prompted you to open your relationship in the first place. Yes, you can work through those pre-existing issues while your partner is skipping around in NRE la-la land and you are trudging through the sloughs of despond, but do keep your seat-belts fastened, 'cuz it's gonna be a bumpy ride. Either way, though, please be aware that you now have at least one additional passenger – your partner's new friend – whose feelings need to be respected in the process. (Just as an aside, has it occurred to you that she might interpret your partner's desire for you as evidence that his desire for her doesn't really count, since the whole point of dating was apparently to spice up his sex life with you? Hmmm.) 

I want to leave you with one final thought. If your partner tells you, explicitly or implicitly, that he wants to have sex with you, there is only ONE thing you need to figure out, and that is NOT whether he means what he says. The only thing you need to figure out is this: Do you want to have sex with him? If the answer no, it doesn't matter why he wants you. You're not into it. Simply tell him so, as clearly and kindly as you can, and move on. If the answer is yes, it still doesn't matter why he wants you. What he thinks about, in the private sanctuary of his own mind, is actually none of your business. So just get over yourself, and get busy! If you're anything like me, you will feel much better afterward. 

Jams & Jellies,
Viny

Monogamy Is Over. So Is Polyamory.

A recent issue of Time magazine ran with the cover, "Is Monogamy Over?"

The consensus among the thinkers/cultural gurus who weighed in on this question seemed to be, "No, monogamy isn't over -- er, not exactly. Kind of. But not, like, TOTALLY over. Which is good, because monogamy can be a good thing for people. Kind of. At least in theory."

I disagree. I think monogamy IS over.

The mere fact that Time put that question on their cover demonstrates that our cultural narratives about relationships are changing, and changing pretty rapidly. I believe that within a few decades, most people's attitudes about relationships will look more like mine, whether or not they choose a lifestyle like mine. 

But don't get all excited (or freaked out, as the case may be) about the coming Ascendency of the Polyamorous World Order, because I also think polyamory is over.

What I see, from my vantage point, is that people are becoming increasingly uncomfortable with both "monogamy" and "polyamory", and what those labels imply. At nearly every "poly" gathering I have attended, someone says something like, "I don't know if I qualify as truly polyamorous, because...."

[Here are some of the "disqualfiers" I've heard: My partner and I are thinking about opening our relationship, but we're still in the experimental phase; I'm in a companionship marriage with my gay husband, and I don't even have another partner right now; I just broke up with partner A, which means now I'm only seeing partner B; I'm not dating at the moment, and neither is my wife, which I guess means we are technically monogamous; My live-in partner and I don't have sex any more, so my girlfriend is my only sex partner; I identify as asexual; I'm actually still a virgin; etc.]

I wonder if we need a new term to describe the new relationship paradigm that is in the process of emerging -- a term that denotes a collection of ideas about relationships, rather than a set of practices. (I know, I know: not another new term!)

Regardless of what we might call this collection of ideas, I'd like to take a stab at enumerating them. Here they are -- feel free to email me with any additions/deletions/clarifications/comments!

{EDIT: Quite a few people have pointed out that the ideas below sound a lot like Relationship Anarchy. I discuss RA, and the reasons why I don't feel comfortable calling myself a relationship anarchist, here.}

1. IDEAS ABOUT SEX

• sex isn't bad or shameful
• different people manifest sexuality in many different ways; as long as it's consensual, we shouldn't judge other people's sexual tastes or the way they choose to express themselves sexually (or not, in the case of people who identify as asexual)
• sex isn't inherently private; robust, open communication about sex is good
• open communication about your sexual history/activities is perhaps the most important “safer sex” practice you can implement (your partners are then able to give informed consent)
• sex can be sacred outside of exclusivity and long-term commitment (in other words, it's not a choice between "sacred & monogamous" and "casual & promiscuous" sex)
• there is no natural, non-arbitrary line we can draw to separate what's sexual and what isn't
• people have the same right to express themselves sexually, and to engage in sex on their own terms, regardless of gender/orientation (there should be no double standard)

2. IDEAS ABOUT INTIMACY

• true intimacy depends on open communication (which depends on a bunch of other things, including self-knowledge, communication skills, and a commitment to honesty and transparency): “don't ask, don't tell” limits intimacy; indulging in intrigue or "mind" games can damage trust
• intimacy is more valuable than privacy
• intimacy depends on mutual consent and reciprocity (in other words, boundaries are healthy)
• most people do better with multiple intimacies in their lives
• people who celebrate and foster multiple intimacies will create stronger communities than those who limit their intimacies: what we want is deeper, more bonded communities brought together by mutual interest in intimacy, rather than a common interest in eradicating some hated Other
• there is no clear distinction between sexual and non-sexual intimacy, because intimacy is holistic: it includes the whole person, and sexuality is part of that

3. IDEAS ABOUT RELATIONSHIP DYNAMICS

• you don't have to break up with a partner when things aren't perfect; there are all kinds of creative solutions to incompatibilities
• likewise, you don't have to break up with one person because you are interested in another; it doesn't have to be “choose A or B”
• DIY relationships are more rewarding than following a culturally sanctioned script, because they are of necessity engaged in more consciously (although some discourse on polyamory is getting script-y these days)
• there are no relationship “givens”: agreements, terms, obligations do not magically occur because some event happens (“you slept with me, so that means X” or “you married me, so that means Y”), but because people sat down together and made an explicit agreement – and understand that those agreements must be revisited regularly
• there is no ideal model for how a relationship should be
• change is inevitable in any relationship (which is why agreements must be revisited to make sure they are still serving everyone's needs); and not every good relationship is sustainable
• there is no “correct” trajectory for how change “should” happen in the course of a relationship
• one person can't be everything to anyone (under this paradigm, no one ever has to ask, “Why am I not enough for you?” or “You like so-and-so? What's wrong with me?”)
• the dyad is not the only locus of intimacy

4. IDEAS ABOUT EMOTIONS/INDIVIDUAL EXPERIENCE

• jealousy doesn't equal love; it is better for your psychological health to let it go; it is totally possible to overcome, or at least minimize, your feelings of jealousy
• jealousy, when examined, proves to be a collection of fears (abandonment, personal inadequacy, etc.)
• it is possible to develop positive feelings in place of or in addition to jealous feelings, i.e. "compersion" (happiness because of a partner's happiness with another)
• it is possible to experience romantic love for more than one person at a time (though since relationships tend to be at different stages, and to fill different needs, in practice this overlap isn't complete....)
• you can't be honest with others unless you understand your own emotions and learn to communicate about them without holding others responsible for how you feel: you have to have a clear sense of where your ego boundaries are
• the desire to control one's intimate partners is unhealthy, and it's worth working to overcome this desire to control them, because everyone is happier when autonomy is respected and nurtured

Unrequited Love: My Metamours Wish I Didn't Exist

Dear Viny,

My husband “Scott” and I opened up our marriage almost 2 years ago. I've been seeing my boyfriend “Charles” for over a year and a half, and it's been a wonderful dating experience. My main struggle in this relationship has been, and continues to be, that Charles' wife, “Jessica,” does not want to get to know me. We met once at Charles' request, but only for 20 minutes because that was all that Jessica wanted. I don't feel a great need to be pals and hang out all the time with her, but I do feel that a certain degree of compassion can be gained by some sort of regular get-together. I want very much to express my caring for her and to let her know I understand who she is as the lovable woman Charles married. I want her to know that I care for her and her sweet family. Without any opportunity to communicate, we may secretly be as suspicious of one another as we want, and it almost feels as though we are vying for Charles' time and energy from opposing sides of the fence. I dream instead of being a united front, both of us on the “make Charles happy” team (his words).

Part 2: My husband struggled for a year with us being open, despite the opening up being his idea. Scott was worried that my connection with Charles was a sign that our marriage did not have the right kind of foundation (I disagree – I like our marriage and am grateful for the many ways we connect with one another and with lovers). So when Scott started dating “Megan” a few months ago, I went into it gently and supportively, having had his support for my relationship with Charles all this time. I was also a bit wary, though, given Scott's shaky assumptions about our own connection. The first problem is that Megan is single and very monogamously-minded. She simply cannot wrap her head around the fact that she has a deep and important connection with a married man. Working with Megan's struggle to accept the poly-ness of this situation has been stressful and causes me to worry that she secretly wishes and plans to have Scott all to herself. Add to it that she refuses to meet me because she'd rather me not be here at all...this is just more than I can support. My husband is out all the time with her and runs at a second's notice to put out the fire any time she cries about this. It is really out of balance, and he is feeling pulled by the opposing forces of two women who love him but aren't necessarily working together for the good of the whole group...we just want him to ourselves, at least right now. This isn't fair to him. I spent some time resenting her and thinking that she was just trying to make my life hard. Then one day, I learned that my inquiry into a job that might cross paths with hers caused her to cry, and I was overcome with compassion for her. I realized for the first time that she is truly having a hard time with this. It occurred to me that she is a deep-feeling, lovely soul who happens to have found a meaningful, intimate connection with a married man despite her personal wishes and ethics about it. Having felt that compassion for her, I can't go back to resenting her. I really feel for her. Now my problem is that I wish she would meet me, so I could explain that I see her side of this.

I have two metamours who prefer to compartmentalize their relationships with the men I love and who do not want to get to know me. I just want to have some time with them to let them know I care for them and to affirm we all want the same thing: for our men to feel loved and be happy. Am I selfish or wrong to want some degree of togetherness with my metamours? Maybe they are happier pretending away reality, and I should move as slowly as the most reluctant part...? My men are trying to behave as compassionately as possible, and although they don't want to push their other partners into meeting me when they aren't ready, they have both been gently pursuing the idea with my metamours. So what can I do now? Is it best to wait for everyone to come around while my men do their gentle work of getting my metamours on board?

Help me out of the cold and into my metamours' hearts,

B

***

Dear B,

I am impressed – and touched – by your letter, and I only wish your metamours could read it. If Jessica and Megan were able to see you for who you really are, I'm sure they would love you.

Of course, that's exactly the problem: they aren't able to see you. They aren't even looking. From your description, it sounds like both of your metamours have their heads deep in the sand of “Let's pretend she doesn't really matter.” Never mind that nothing grows in that sand. Never mind that it's desert all the way down, a fucking wasteland of miserly misery. At least it's better than the existential terror of “Maybe I don't really matter.”

We all want to feel like we matter. Unfortunately, many of us have been taught to measure our self-worth according to how much other people are willing to sacrifice to be with us – which explains why the idea of being someone's “one and only” is so appealing. The twisted logic goes like this: If my lover is willing to forsake all others, past and potential, then I must be incredibly valuable. (“See, I am worth more than all of the rest of them put together! I matter most!”) In contrast, if my lover gives up nothing to be with me, I might be worth nothing. Unless I can prove my value – typically at someone else's expense – I will worry that I am worthless.

No wonder your metamours don't want to see you: seeing you would mean facing their own fears.

Your situation is regrettably common, B. Far too many people in open relationships seem to think they can avoid anxiety by avoiding the people they imagine are causing it – an approach that's just about guaranteed to backfire. As strange as it might seem, meeting your lover's other lover(s) is actually the most effective antidote to the ickiness of jealousy.

You seem to understand this intuitively. The question is, how can you put your knowledge into practice? How do you meet someone who wants nothing more than to keep hiding from you? How do you help someone who doesn't want your help?

<Sigh>

I don't have a good answer for you. There's not a lot of direct action you can take, given the circumstances. You are probably going to have to wait for Jessica and Megan to change their minds about how they want to handle being involved with men who are also involved with you. Your best bet for hurrying this process along is to try to convince Charles and Scott to use their influence to hurry the process along. To that end, it might be a good idea to see whether there is any reluctance on their part: do the men agree with you that it would be in everyone's best interest for you and your metamours to get to know each other better? Do they share your dream, or are they dubious? (In other words, are they pushing gently out of care and concern, or out of lack of conviction? It's an important distinction.)

While you are waiting, you have important work to do: your relationship with your husband is clearly suffering right now. You used the phrase, “This is just more than I can support,” and that's a big red flag. A phrase like that means a line has been crossed. You need to figure out where that line was, and hike right back to it, on the double. Maintaining your personal boundaries is not the same thing as putting your needs above those of others. Quite the contrary: good boundaries are actually a crucial component of compassion. Let your husband know what you need from him in order to support his other relationship, and then expect him to follow through. If it turns out that you cannot support his relationship with Megan unless Megan is willing to meet you, definitely tell him so -- with the understanding that meeting this particular need may not be within his power. In that case, you will have to approach Megan directly. Write her a letter explaining how you feel. Ask to meet her. Let her know that you're making this request because she matters to your husband, which means she also matters to you. Perhaps she'll listen. 

Mallows and willows,
Viny

 

My Metamour Doesn't Know What's Good for Her (And That's Bad for Me)

Dear Viny,

About eight months ago, my husband started dating a friend of ours. (We've been poly for a long time and I also have a long-term partner.) She is not poly nor really poly oriented but had such strong feelings for my husband that she wanted to give it a shot. (I get it. He's a pretty awesome guy.)

She is struggling with reconciling what she wants out of a relationship (and similarly, what she can expect) and what is possible. Unfortunately, her big picture wish list includes a husband and a monogamous relationship. I know this and I can't not know it... especially when she asks for things. I can't help but wonder if she's subconsciously trying to make this fit her needs even if it's fruitless. (And to answer the looming question, I am not concerned she is going to "cowgirl" away my spouse.)

Her getting more pretty much equals me accepting less, and because I can't see this as a "forever" situation, it's difficult to agree. I'll take this moment to say that I already have trouble understanding why anyone would engage in a relationship that ticks a number of the emotional buttons but leaves fundamental things unfulfilled – to each his or her own I suppose, but my brain always comes back to this.

Help.

Sincerely,

Feeling Uncomfortable, Concerned and Kicky-Screamy

***

Dear F.U.C.K.S.,

That's one hell of a sign-off. I may need to establish an award for acronymic awesomeness. (So many of life's difficulties can be made just a little less onerous by getting some small token of recognition, don't you think?)

It seems that this question is a follow-up to a question I received several months ago. What I said then, about letting other people make their own mistakes, is still true. You may be entirely correct in your estimation that your metamour's needs would be better met in a relationship with someone other than your husband. However, monitoring her relationships is her responsibility, not yours. Yes, it is a royal pain when someone else seems to be floundering around, making less-than-enlightened life choices, especially when you are close enough to the flounderer to start worrying for your own emotional safety. But taking on someone else's personal issues is a quick ticket to Crazytown, because ultimately, you have very little control over anyone other than yourself. Influence, yes. Control, no.

The best way to approach this situation, in my opinion, is to operate from the assumption that your friend knows what's best for her, and your husband knows what's best for him – and to make peace with the possibility that what's best for them may include making messes you wish you didn't have to watch them clean up.

Your job is simply to do what's best for you. Obviously, what's best for you will include some consideration of what's best for other people, but stay focused on your relationships with them, rather than worrying about their relationships with each other. And avoid the temptation to wander off into “wonder” land. When you are asked to give, don't waste your precious emotional resources trying to figure out whether your sacrifice will end up being worth what someone else gets out of it. Instead, stick to questions you can actually answer, questions that will help guide you in your own relationships – such as, "How can I support my husband in his other relationship in a way that feels sustainable to me, regardless of what I see as the likely long-term outcome of that other relationship?" And, “How can I engage with my metamour in ways that feel good to me?”

In other words, keep your eyes on your own paper, pumpkin. Easier said than done, I know – especially for those of us who pride ourselves on how well we “read” other people.

Finally, may I suggest spending some one-on-one time with your metamour, sometime soon? Swear off conversing about the heavy relationship stuff, and just have a fun girls' night out. She's your friend, too, and reconnecting with her on that level might help you dial back the judgement and jack up the compassion – which would be good for everyone involved. Perhaps, if your friend feels more globally supported, she will be able to ask less and give more, too.

Peachy schnapps and lemondrops,

Viny