Tag: #openrelationships

Chasing That Rush

“Every time I go for the mailbox, gotta hold myself down, ‘cause I just can’t wait till you write me you’re coming around” – Katrina and the Waves

I love dopamine. For those who aren’t the research nerd that I am, dopamine is a neurotransmitter that plays a role in how we feel pleasure. It rewards us for pursuing things we don’t have yet, and responds to things that are new or possible. It helps us think, plan, and focus. It affects learning, motivation, sleep, mood, attention, and even pain. It fuels the parts of us that want to explore, discover, chase, find, have and try. And once we have done those things it stops, leaving us looking for the next new thing, our next big ‘hit’.

I’m not rich enough to be a shopaholic, I don’t do drugs, and I’m not jumping out of planes, but over the years I have stumbled onto another way to get that dopamine high – new relationships. The polyamory community refers to it as new relationship energy, but it is more commonly known as the honeymoon period. It’s that time at the start of any relationship where everything is new; new feelings, new stories, new experiences, new people, and in the case of romantic relationships, new sex.  There is a seemingly endless supply of new things to learn, explore, and discover about your new friend, partner, or potential partner, and that intoxicating feeling of connecting with someone new mixed with that rush of new hormones is hard to beat.

So what happens when that high wears off? 

Some people never stop chasing the high. We all know them. It’s that person in your life who makes a new friend or finds a new partner and suddenly their lives become entirely focused around that person. They will cancel existing plans to spend time with them, can’t make new plans without checking first to make sure that person isn’t available, and can’t seem to talk about anything but their new person when you finally do spend time together. Everything in their life becomes about this person. And then the dopamine wears off, the new person becomes less interesting, and they are back to being the friend you used to have. Until the next new person comes along.  

These relationships aren’t only hard on the chaser’s friends, they are also incredibly hard on the chaser’s subject, the focus of their excitement. For a brief period they get to feel like the most interesting person in the world. Like they have found someone who really sees them, likes them, and can’t get enough of them. Until suddenly they are gone. And the subject is left feeling rejected, alone, and in many cases confused about what they did that resulted in this change. And when both partners are caught up in the rush, and are both caught up in that excitement to the exclusion of everything else, it becomes even more complicated, because no one can really explain why things ended. 

I have been in all of these positions. I have been the chaser, I have been the subject, and I have been the friend watching this happen over and over and over again. I have hurt people, I have been hurt by people, and I have watched people I love hurt others and get hurt by others. And it sucks. No matter what position I am in, it sucks. Every time I would think “this one is different, this one will work out, this time the connection will last”. And it wouldn’t. Because even if the potential for real connection was there at the beginning it had been washed away by the flood of dopamine telling me to do everything and have everything and be everything right now. 

One of the most important things I have learned from my wasted years of immersing myself in that rush is to slow down. A lot. Not because I’m trying to ignore the dopamine, but because I’m trying to draw it out, make space around it, and allow actual feelings and connections to grow in that space. To enjoy the rush a little longer, but also to give my new relationships a chance to find a connection within that time that will carry on past the end of the rush. So that other different highs can follow it. Because as great as that dopamine rush is, it absolutely pales in comparison to finding people you really connect with, who actually get you, and who like you for who you are, not just for how you made them feel at the start. And as good as “new” is, attachment, companionship, and if you are lucky enough to find it, love, are so much better. Because once you find those connections you can find new ways to experience that dopamine, together. 

Marriage

“Happiness is only real when shared.” – Jon Krakauer

Historically marriages happened for a lot of reasons, most of them cultural or financial. Sometimes the couple in question had a choice and sometimes they did not, but very seldom did it matter to anyone if they loved or even liked each other. It was expected that at a certain point in life you would fulfill the social contract and enter into the transaction known as marriage. 

Today in most western cultures marriage is seen as the ultimate sign of love for your partner. In many cases there are still legal, social, and economic benefits involved, such as enlarging your family, combining resources to purchase and maintain property, or having the financial support to stay home and raise children, but those are now seen as the benefits of finding someone who you love enough to marry rather than the reason for marriage itself. It is no longer an obligation; now it is a desire. Plus you get to have a big party with presents and cake, and who doesn’t want that, right? 

I have been in love a few times, and at least once in love enough that I did everything in my power to be with that person for the rest of my life. It didn’t work out, but even when it still looked like it would somehow the topic of marriage never came up. Not because I was waiting for him to bring it up, but because it never really crossed my mind as something we needed to consider. We chose each other every day, we made plans for the future, we were happy, and that was enough for me. What could marriage give me that I didn’t already have? 

Over the last couple years a few very close friends have gotten married. These marriages did not occur because my friends are planning to have children, need financial support, are particularly religious, or felt some kind of cultural obligation to tie the knot. They happened because they wanted to be married, not because they needed to be. Because they love each other, and because expressing that love through marriage was important to them.

I love my partner. The reasons I love him could fill a blog post of their own, so I won’t go into that here. Our relationship is the healthiest one I have every been in; we support each other when it’s necessary, make room for independence when it’s not, question and challenge each other to ensure we keep growing as people, plan for the future and accept our pasts, live and own property together, talk about everything, explore new things, and have a fantastic sex and social life. I genuinely can’t think of anything we are missing, and I feel like the very best version of myself when I am with him. Looking ahead I can imagine situations that will present us with challenges, but if we continue as we have been I can’t imagine anything we can’t get through if we try. 

Does all of this mean we should get married? I honestly don’t know. I find the idea of marriage intriguing in a way I never have before. In the past it looked like a trap blocking a person from experiencing new things with different people. Being polyamorous any marriage I entered into couldn’t fall into the standard rules marriages have traditionally followed, which I think on some level is why I have never really wanted it. But what if we could write our own definition of marriage, and make our own rules about what that looks like for us? Create something that makes us both feel protected, loved, and heard, that still involves choosing each other every day, and that leaves room for us to have experiences outside of the two of us. Definitions and rules that grow and change as we do, evolving as our relationship does, supporting and nurturing each other without limiting one another. 

I don’t know if it’s possible, or if it’s different in any way that what we are doing right now, but it sure is interesting to think about. 

Why I’m Trying Open Relationships

Like many of you, I grew up in a nuclear family. Two parents and their dependent children, regarded as a basic social unit by society. This has been the ideal model, in western culture at least, for as long as most people can remember.

As far as I know this model worked for my parents. They have been married for over 40 years, have not lived apart at any time during that period, and to my knowledge have not had romantic relationships with any other people since they got together. They are the ideal that our society tells us to strive for.  

So many things in life have told me that I should want this, my parents and their example being the first. It was reinforced through my youth, seeing other young kids playing house, listening to high school friends dream about their wedding day, and watching fellow college students frantically try to find ‘the one’.  As an adult it’s been hammered into me, watching one by one as people I knew paired off, getting those dreaded ‘when will you find someone’ questions at family events, and seeing the pitying looks from people any time I went to an event without a partner. It is expected that we will all pair off, and that we will do everything in our power to get to that as early as possible.

I was never the girl that planned her wedding. It just didn’t matter to me. Over the years I’ve tried several time to have successful monogamous relationships, sometimes to the point of completely repressing who I am just to make it work. It’s what I was told I should want, and I tried my hardest to have it. Then when I couldn’t make it work I stopped trying altogether, stopped trying to find anyone. I didn’t meet people, didn’t date, and eventually didn’t even have sex for over a decade. I thought I was broken, damaged, or in some way incomplete because I couldn’t find this thing that every other person seemed to be able to. I thought there was something wrong with me, that I was the problem.

There isn’t anything wrong with me.

It has taken me a long time to say that. Probably too long. I am a good person. I am happy, social, attractive, and I care deeply about the people I come to know. I like going out, staying in, or any combination thereof. I am compassionate, supportive, giving, playful, entertaining and independent. I am easy to be around, and easy to love.

I just don’t fit the standard formula.

In all of my relationships I’ve felt restricted, or like something is missing, in one way or another. I’ve had to give up meeting new people, lost time with people I cared about, and changed plans countless time to fit another person’s life. Hobbies I enjoy have fallen by the wayside, and things I’ve wanted to try have never happened. I’ve given up freedom, experiences, friendships, and time, all in the pursuit of that one goal – becoming a couple.

In every relationship I’ve had that feeling of restriction has turned me into someone I don’t want to be, and someone my partner ultimately hasn’t wanted to be around. In some I’ve become exhausted, constantly worn down by not having my own needs fulfilled while I meet someone else’s, making me angry and petulant. In others I’ve become rebellious, lashing out and finding ways to hurt my partner in an attempt to express how unhappy I am. I’ve tried telling my partner exactly what isn’t working for me, what is missing, only to be met with confusion or abandonment. It’s not their fault. It’s not even mine. But it doesn’t work.

Recently I’ve been introduced to the concept of open relationships. Open means different things to different people, and many names and labels are used to define it and it’s varying levels of feeling and commitment. Regardless of the term used the definition I hear most is ‘committed intimate caring relationships with more than one partner, with the consent of all partners’. The rules are set by the people involved, and as long as everyone is honest and follows them these relationships work beautifully.

Imagine it. Not having to find just one perfect person to meet all of your needs, and not needing to be the one perfect person that meets all of someone else’s needs. Not having to restrict yourself to one person’s likes or dislikes, hobbies or passions, and not having to badger that person into participate in all of yours. Being able to find different people that fit the different parts of your life, that allow you to do things you love with people you care about who also love doing them, and knowing that you aren’t leaving someone out while you do that because they also have someone to do the things they love with. Sharing experiences and emotions, good and bad, with multiple partners, instead of requiring one to carry all the weight of it on their own. Being free to meet new people you might care about, without needing to give up anyone else first. Being allowed to care for as many or as few people as you want, for as long as you want and in whatever way you want, at any time.

I can’t imagine anything more fulfilling than that, and I’m looking forward to experiencing it for myself.