Some people, I think, are entirely monogamous or entirely polyamorous. They are fixed in that preference (orientation, identity, whatever you wanna call it), and trying to be something other than what they are is just going to result in discomfort, dissonance, and disaster. There’s nothing wrong with that – some people know exactly who they are with no need for experimentation or questioning. Some people have determined their identity to be fixed by asking the questions and performing the experiments. I’m not at all of the opinion that everyone’s preferences should be mutable.
But I do think that most of us are capable of a great degree of fluidity and can adapt to different relationship dynamics and styles if we have the motivation. I’m not just talking about the miscellaneous queers of the world, the people like me who don’t really fit into any of the standard boxes so they perpetually straddle fences. I’m also talking about the straight dudes who never questioned their sexuality, who nonetheless fell in love with other guys and proceeded to make their relationships work. (It’s happened!) I’m talking about the people who are secure in their identity right up until the moment something changes and they have to make a choice: embrace a new paradigm, or stick rigidly to the way things have “always been.”
I think most of us, if faced with that kind of choice, could adapt our identities and change our realities without much lasting dissonance or discomfort. It can take a ton of work – hard work: a lot of soul-searching, self-soothing, check-ins with ourselves and those around us, and frequent battles with our own personal demons – but that work often brings wonderful rewards.
When it comes to the transition from mono to poly, that work often comes with very particular challenges. We’re so used to the framework we’ve been force-fed for love that we often try to cart it along with us during the move. Some polyamorous and other ethically non-monogamous arrangements suit that old framework fairly well (or at least won’t actively chafe against it): polyfidelity comes to mind. Instead of “you are mine and I am yours,” it’s just “you and you are mine and I am yours and yours and also you belong to each other.” It’s still a closed circuit, with all that entails.
That language of belonging – something that’s commonly seen in the way our society as a whole interprets romantic love – doesn’t work so well when relationships are open and allow love to happen naturally whenever and wherever it happens. “You’re mine, but also his, hers, and theirs” quantifies love and sets up a mental calculation of just how much of your lover “belongs” to you vs how much “belongs” to someone(s) else.
Instead of belonging, open polyamory tends to embrace an idea of experiencing. You don’t belong to me, nor I to you; rather, we get to experience each other. I give you some of myself and you give me some of you, and we do our best to focus on gratitude for the experiences we share rather than jealousy over the ones we don’t.
Of course, jealousy isn’t going anywhere. It’s completely normal to feel jealousy, and it doesn’t mean you’re “doing poly wrong” if you get jealous from time to time. But that’s where The Work comes in.
Jealousy isn’t really just one emotion – it’s a conglomerate of a bunch of complicated thoughts and feelings that we don’t like to have to examine too closely. In my experience, jealousy is most often my own poor sense of self-worth in disguise: all my doubts and insecurities are like festering wounds, and my mind twists itself in knots to keep those wounds protected, even from itself.
It is easier to take all that pain and project it outward, give it an external source and then obsess about that source as the reason for my suffering. It’s much harder to peel away the scabs and excise the scar tissue I’ve formed over those hurts, old and new; to expose my fears and insecurities to the light of day; to begin the painful process of picking out the shrapnel, disinfecting the wounds, and sewing them up. It’s harder, and more painful, but in the end it’s worth every ache and every twinge. The only way to defeat your jealousy is to show it for what it is and to learn how to build yourself up in all the ways that you’ve been torn down, all the ways you’ve continued to tear yourself down long after the original damage was done.
Once you’ve shown yourself that you’re capable of doing the work needed to find comfort and satisfaction in a situation that once caused you distress, the rest is mostly vigilance and upkeep. You have to keep doing The Work, forever, for it to keep working. But the more you do it, the easier and more natural it becomes, until it is second nature and you are free to enjoy the many rewards and benefits of your labour.
Like the freedom to let love happen when and where it wants to happen, unfettered by the restrictive confines of the traditional romantic relationship framework.
Like the joy and exhilaration of a new relationship, and the comfort and security of an old one.
Like relationships that defy categorization or definition, and the nullification of the restrictions we so often put on intimacy.
And cuddle-puddles! Never forget the cuddle-puddles.
Windsor Polyamory 