Tag: #redefiningdating

Letting Go of “Primary”

“Collaboration has no hierarchy. The sun collaborates with the soil to bring flowers on the earth.” – Amit Ray

If you have been following my journey, you will know what a struggle this one has been for me. When I made the move from solo-polyamory to partnered polyamory I made a lot of assumptions about what that move meant. We both did. And we have been learning over the last several years that some of those assumptions weren’t the same, and that some don’t fit how one or both of us want to operate now. 

The most basic definition of hierarchy is “a system or organization in which people or groups are ranked one above the other according to status or authority”. Hierarchy exists everywhere. From political or religious structures, to families, to nature, everything has a ranking system. Even our own bodies are hierarchical, from cells all the way up to organ systems. We are surrounded by it, born to and raised in it, and it is such a consistent part of our lives that most of us don’t even question the need for it. 

But does that mean hierarchy should also exist in our relationships? 

170 years ago the world I live in would have looked very different. My parents would have found a man for me to marry (probably in exchange for some kind of livestock or other trade goods) and I would have moved from their home to his. Instead of answering to them I would answer to him. We would have had children, and possibly farmworkers, who would answer to him, and then only in his absence, to me. I would have lived my life as part of a hierarchy based on sexism, racism, and socioeconomic status and never would have questioned if there was another way. 

The world has changed a lot since then. It still has a long way to go, but it is trying. And one of the areas that is changing the most is relationships. 

I was lucky enough to be raised by parents who taught me that women are equal to men, and that the value you bring to a relationship isn’t your money or status, it is who you are as a person. My parents ran our home together, and if anything my mom was the authority, not my dad. Yes, my dad had a higher income and my mom spent my younger years at home raising kids, but it could not have been more obvious that my mom never felt or acted like she answered to my dad in any way. The concept of rank never entered their relationship, and because that is how I grew up, the idea of hierarchy within a two person relationship has never existed for me. My relationships are partnerships, and always have been.

So why is it so difficult for me to apply that same principle to polyamory? 

The best answer I can give is fear. Fear of being superseded. Fear of not having a say in decisions that are being made. Fear that my wants and desires will not be as important as someone else’s. Fear that I will not be as important as someone else. Fear of being replaced, discarded, or ignored.

The exact same fears a secondary partner feels in a hierarchical relationship. 

Are my fears more valid because I started dating my partner first? Should they hold more weight because we live together? Or spend more time together? Or sleep together most nights? Am I entitled to demand more from my partner than they give to any other partner simply because we have been together longer? Do I get to put rules and limits on their relationship so that I can feel safer in my own? Should my vote count for more, just because I’ve had one longer? 

The answer to all of these questions is no. 

We have already made huge strides towards egalitarian polyamory. I have no decision making power over my partners other relationships, and he has none over mine. We express our thoughts, opinions, and feelings, sometimes very emphatically and dramatically, but ultimately the decisions we make are our own, and are the ones we as individuals feel are best for each relationship. Sometimes one of us is hurt or left out in the decision, and sometimes the metamour is. There are no vetoes or hard limits, and we continue to push the boundaries of what each of us is comfortable with. It isn’t always easy, and some boundaries have moved faster than others, but it is a constant work in progress, and blanket “no”s never enter the picture. Do we choose each other more often than we choose others? Yes, for now at least. But it’s not because of a title we’ve given our relationship, or a set of rules we’ve imposed on it. It’s because as individuals that’s where we are choosing to focus our time and attention. 

I haven’t been practicing hierarchical polyamory for a while now. So why is the title that comes with it still so important to me? I have already let go of the control and privileges that come with it, so why do I still need the word, even knowing that it holds no meaning? Is the appearance of status and authority still important to me, even though the actual status and authority doesn’t come with it? 

Apparently. And now it’s time to let go of that too. 

What’s in a name?

“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose/By any other name would smell as sweet.” – William Shakespeare

Daughter, sister, friend. Student, girlfriend, jock. Employee, passenger, performer. Investor, mother, steward. These are just some of the many, many names and titles I have had over the years. The labels I have worn.

All of these labels refer to the same person, and each one expresses a different aspect of that person. We hear them listed during award presentations and at funerals as a means of expressing to the audience what the person has accomplished during their life. We use them when introducing someone to a stranger, to quickly and succinctly express what the relationship is. And we use them in our own minds, to categorise people so we can keep track of what our responsibilities to them are. 

Labels express successes, aspirations, connections, and expectations. 

When I took on the title of solo-poly it meant my main focus was myself. I came first. I loved my partners, I was committed to them, and I learned to adjust to their needs without giving up pieces of myself. I learned to adapt and grow and add more pieces without giving up anything that I wanted to keep as a part of myself.

Eventually I met someone who fit me so well that we made the decision to practice partnered poly together. Whatever the label you use is, whether it’s Wife, Husband, Primary, Life Partner, or something else, I feel like it defines an inherent hierarchy that comes into play when you have that conversation and choose to practice polyamory together, as a couple, rather than continuing to practice it alone alongside each other, as solo-poly. 

This does not mean that feelings have to have a hierarchy, or that there is a cap on how much you can become with your other partners, or that things like veto powers come into play. It simply means that when making big decisions or working through difficult issues that this person will be consulted first, and that their opinions or feelings may carry more weight in your decision making. Other partners will also be consulted, and their opinions or feelings will win out sometimes. The main partner will not always get what they want, or be given permission to make unreasonable demands. It just means that they are a slightly bigger part of the decision making pie, and that this is a thing that is known by all parties.  

Is labelling things like this the right way to look at partnered poly, or is this just another possessive controlling holdover from monogamy that needs to be released? Should everyone just be some version of “partner”, without any hierarchy? What happens when another relationship starts to fit the same definitions you are applying to your primary person? How do you handle it when you and your partner can’t agree on what that label means, or even which label should be used? 

I genuinely don’t know if I am capable of operating without my own label, and that worries me. I have a need to know where I stand with people, and what priority they are giving me over others, so that I can adjust my expectations and behaviours accordingly. How do you interact with your partners, with other members of your polycule, with your family, and with your community when neither you nor anyone else understands what commitments you have made to one another? How do you present yourself to the world without a title that lets them know who you are to each other? Should titles and labels and status matter in the world? Probably not. But do they? In the world I live in? Absolutely. 

Do I expect the promise of forever? No, I never have, and probably never will. Life has taught me that nothing lasts forever, and I am OK with that. Things change, people grow, together and apart, and it is impossible to predict or control how that will happen. Which means labels will change too. Do I want that promise, that commitment, right now? Yes. Do I want our title to reflect what I feel our relationship is today? Absolutely. Is it more important to me than actually getting to be with my partner? No. I am only half of the decision making equation, and we are not currently in the same place on this. Which is hard, and means that at some point one or both of us will need to adjust. But sometimes that’s what growing is, and sometimes we need to wait for the right time for it to happen. 

What Are You Looking For?

“The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed.” – Carl Gustave Jung

“What are you looking for?” I get this question a lot. From people who don’t know me at all to people who know me very well. It is a great question, and I often answer it a little differently depending on who is asking.

I have a fantastic life and I am the happiest I have ever been. I have a good career, own my home, and have successfully ushered my offspring into early adulthood. I have a decent relationship with my family, have amassed an impressive collection of books, board games, and hobby supplies, and so far have avoided any long term debilitating illnesses or injuries. I have a sexy and supportive primary partner, a truly beautiful group of friends, and am part of a community of people that embrace me for who I am. Life is very, very good. 

So what am I looking for? 

A big part of getting to where I am now was learning a few things along the way, and those things are as valid and important now that I am in a wonderful place as they were when I first learned them.

  1. It is unreasonable to expect one person to provide everything you need. This is true no matter what the relationship – romantic, friendship, or family. People are beautiful complex creatures, and we all come with a mess of needs, wants, and issues that are more than some of us can handle on our own. How is it fair to expect only one other person to be able to help us with all of that, when all of us can barely help ourselves? Western society likes to tell us “it takes a village to raise a child”, but why does that stop once you grow up? If anything your needs are more complex and diverse, so it only makes sense that it will take more and different people to meet them all. 
  1. I want to continue to grow and evolve as a person. Life is great right now, but that is the way it is because of all the work I did and all the changes I made to get here. It didn’t just happen overnight, and it won’t stay this way if I just leave it alone.  Everything changes, whether you want it to or not, so trying to stay the same means getting left behind. That doesn’t mean racing forward and leaping into every new thing that crosses my path, but it also doesn’t mean slamming the door on anything different or scary. I want to grow and evolve and see what else I can see/do/accomplish, not just stagnate where I am. 
  1. I crave new input. New experiences, new ideas, and new people. I firmly believe that who we are as people is made up of the things we have experienced and the people we have experienced them with, good or bad. Every person we share time with becomes a piece of us, shapes us, and ultimately determines who we are going to be next. Allowing new people in means getting to see the world through a new set of eyes, being introduced to new activities or ideas, and having the opportunity to learn new things about myself. 

So what am I looking for? I am looking for people who bring something new and worthwhile to my life, be it a romantic connection, a friendship, or an experience. My hope is that these will all be positive additions, connections that increase the size of my “village”, but even if they aren’t they are still things that I can learn from. They will still become a part of me, either treasured memories to bask in later or painful moments that teach me something new. 

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. 

Requiem to 2020

Covid-19 has been in our lives for over a year now, and many of us are currently experiencing a second or third lockdown as cases around the world are on the rise. The promise of vaccination exists, but it could be another year or more before our population is protected enough for life to get back to ‘normal’. If ‘normal’ can even exist anymore. 

It’s impossible to say now what the long term repercussions of our first encounter with a global pandemic will be. Which leaves us in a very difficult place; only half way through a marathon period of fear, loss, and waiting, without even knowing exactly what we are waiting for. We are stuck pushing our way to an ending, without any guarantee of what that ending will bring, or when it will occur. So how do we cope when the world around us seems bleak, and we don’t know when the light will come again? How do we find meaning, happiness, and fulfillment in our lives when it feels like everything has come to a grinding halt? How do we get to the end of this race still feeling like ourselves?

I have seen many stories of people who have done wonderful things with this time. People who have learned to become amazing artists, chefs, or writers. People who have immersed themselves in health building activities, who have lost weight, gained muscle, or increased flexibility. People who have taken this time to educate themselves, improve their living spaces, or explore things they have never had the chance to explore before. People who have embraced this challenging time, faced it like warriors on a battlefield, and who have beat it into submission with their success.

I am not one of those people.

2020 was going to be a big year for me. After many years of isolation, a few more years of trying to find a way to fit into someone else’s life, and some time (finally) spent discovering what I wanted, I found myself starting 2020 happy with who I was, the people I had around me, and what my future held. I found hobbies that let me be creative and express myself, friends that embraced who I am and reciprocated by sharing parts of themselves with me, and a partner who was as excited to build a life together as I was. I had reached an age I had always dreaded but found an unexpected peace and acceptance with. My son was going to graduate, and we were going to have the opportunity to celebrate his transition from child to adulthood. I was going to have my first public speaking opportunity on behalf of this blog, and my first ever out of country romantic adventure. I was in the early stages of developing new friendships and relationships that showed lots of promise. And there were going to be several parties, conventions, concerts, celebrations, and get-togethers to help fuel my ever present need for new input. It was shaping up to be a big year. 

Covid-19 hit us in mid-March and everything changed. All of the things we were looking forward to, all of the get-togethers, trips, and events, became things we were afraid of. The simple acts of going to work, getting groceries, or putting gas in our cars became high risk, and introduced a danger into our lives we had never had to consider before. Instead of finding comfort or joy in other people, we had to be afraid of them. The freedoms we loved were now risks we weren’t allowed to take. And while there have been some short periods of relief sprinkled in, most of us have been living like this for the last year. 

Like many people I spent most of 2020 being reactive. I watched the news, followed the rules, and stayed home. My whole life became about watching, listening, and waiting for things to get better. Every time the case numbers went down I would get excited, and every time they went up I would get sad. I had endless discussions with people about how the pandemic was going, how it was affecting them, what the numbers meant, and when things would get better. It became an endless cycle of checking in and waiting, checking and waiting. And not once did I decide to take to accomplish something with all the time I now had. 

Does this mean I consider 2020 a lost or wasted year? Can I no longer consider myself a warrior able to take on any challenge that comes my way? Have I let this pandemic beat me?

No.

2020 was not the year I planned it to be, and I was not the person I always thought I would be in the face of crisis, but that does not mean it was wasted, or that I lost, or have been beaten. A lot of wonderful things still happened, and some of them wouldn’t have without the pandemic. I got to spend more time with my son than I would have otherwise, and was able to be there and help him through something that none of us have ever experienced before. My family had the opportunity to show him, and ourselves, that there are different ways than the ones we have always known to enjoy day to day life, celebrate accomplishments, and support each other through difficult times. My partner and I had more time together than we had ever had before, and had the opportunity to go through something truly difficult together. We learned to recognize, understand, and support stress in each other, which likely would have taken us years to do without something as impactful as a global pandemic. We found new hobbies to enjoy together, new ways to challenge and entertain one another, and truly learned how to relax into our partnership. I was able to reach out to friends and offer support, and in some cases was pleasantly surprised by who offered support in return. Some friendships were difficult to maintain at a distance and are in a holding pattern until we can see each other again, but others flourished in ways I don’t think they would have otherwise.

2020 was a difficult year, because it was a year I entered full of expectation. In the end 2020 taught me the value of embracing and enjoying the things I have right now, showed me the immeasurable love and support that surrounds me, and left me in awe of the way we are all able to adapt and grow in new circumstances. I am now ready to move on from mourning what 2020 could have been, and to more forward looking at 2021 with hope free of expectation.

Flying Solo

I started my journey into ethical non-monogamy alone. I don’t mean without support, information, or mentoring, I have all of those, in spades. I am very lucky in the people I have around me who are there when I have questions or need reassurance; discovering this community has been one of the most positive influences in my adult life.

Most people I have encountered who identify as ethical non-monogamists are on their journey with a primary partner, or at least started their journey while they were with someone who fit that title. Because of this a lot of non-monogamy I have seen is hierarchical in nature; there is a core couple that ‘comes first’, and other partners are secondary or tertiary. That’s not to say that other partners can’t be as cared for or loved, or that those relationships are less fulfilling or important because of it, but the distinction is there, and it is something that needs to be respected for things to work.

I identify as polyamorous, but I do not have a primary partner. Emotionally I want multiple, loving, long term, committed relationships, where all partners feel that they are valued, cared for, and wanted at all times. No part of that requires me to elevate one above any other. From a practical ‘real life’ standpoint I am not looking to merge homes or finances with anyone, get married, or have more children. I am quite happy in my independence and am able to support myself. 

I have occasionally been told that I’m “doing poly wrong” or that I’m “not really polyamorous” because I don’t have a primary partner. Whenever I hear this it sounds like an echo to me of something I’ve been hearing my entire life in mainstream culture; that something is wrong with people that are “single”. It seems sometimes like the expectation of “coupling up” is still alive and well, even within the non-monogamous community.

I recently came across a term that I feel describes my situation perfectly; solo polyamorous. Like any other label it means different things to different people, but most agree that it is the decision to be your own primary partner. This is not a decision made out of lack of other options, but because you have made a conscious choice to have your primary allegiance be to yourself. It doesn’t mean you are being selfish or that you don’t care about others wants or needs, but is because you are strongly motivated by your autonomy, you value your freedom, and you are most comfortable identifying as an individual.

Solo polyamory opens a lot of doors that may not be there for couple based relationships. First, it allows you to put the emotional energy of maintaining a primary relationship into yourself, to come into each new relationship strong and whole, the best version of yourself that you can be. It gives each new relationship a chance to be what it will be, with no potential to be vetoed and without rules that can be hard to understand or fit into. It can make it easier to date people who do not identify as polyamorous, as they do not need to feel that they are coming second to anyone else, and because there is no need for them to build relationships with or get permission from your other partners.  Any or all of your partners can be identified as a girlfriend, boyfriend, or whatever term you prefer, depending on the relationship itself and not on how it relates to your other partnerships. You can commit to doing what is best for everyone, even if that means splitting up with someone for a time so you can grow separately.

Defining myself as solo polyamorous allows me the option to care about each of my partners as if they were a primary partner, if that is the way each relationship goes, and if those partners do not have other relationships with rules that need to be followed. It allows me to love them as deeply as I want, if love is there, or to enjoy the journey together for as long as it is enjoyable if it is not. I can develop relationships without feeling like I am suffocating, giving up too much of myself, or endangering something I have with someone else. It lets me develop the skills necessary to advocate for what I want, and it gives me a chance to find out what that is. It gives me the ability to discuss options with others, get their input and consider how it will affect them, but ultimately make my major life decisions on my own. It allows me to have deep, intimate, long term relationships, but still maintain my independence.

I’m not saying that solo polyamory is easier or better than any other type of ethical non-monogamy; it isn’t, it’s just different, and it comes with its own set of pros and cons. There are still moments of loneliness, times when you wish you had more support, and the occasional bouts of wondering why you don’t fit into something more traditional or accepted. Sometimes it means standing up for yourself or doing something alone, and disappointing others who might want to take on something for or with you. And just like any other relationship, sometimes it means missing out on something because the other person doesn’t want what you want. I don’t know if I will always identify as solo polyamorous; I am very happy in all of my current relationships, but I am as prone to what I want changing as anyone else is, and sometimes people already in our lives or new people who come into our lives can make us want to change with or for them. All I can tell you is that right now is that this is how I identify, it is what I want, and it is making me very happy.