Stop Romanticizing NRE

As all three readers of this blog know, we here at SoT take a pretty cautious view of what polyamorists refer to as “New Relationship Energy” (NRE), otherwise known as “limerance” in the psychology world and “infatuation” to the rest of us.  We’re certainly written about it enough, and it was clear that in our situation, it was something we were hoping to avoid.

Whoops.  

I’m seeing someone, and yes, fairly extreme limerance on my part is involved.  And it’s just the worst.  I don’t feel in control of my thoughts, I’m constantly distracted, and the extreme highs and lows are exhausting. Even if logically, I understand that I am having irrational thoughts, that doesn’t stop me from experiencing the emotions that said cognitions lead to me to.  Here’s a brief guide to where my head’s been out in the last three weeks:

-Not receiving an email within the space of a day or sometimes even hours?  He’s obviously lost all interest in me.

-Sends me a nice email?  Walkin’ on air for hours.

-I am probably the worst wife ever, I should probably cry about the guilt a lot

-Then I should spend hours asking my husband to analyze what’s going on and tell me that my limerance object is totally into me/not into me at all

-We should probably go to Berlin together as soon as possible even though I have no idea if we share the same travel interests and have had only one overnight to date

-Thinking it’s a good idea to force a “where are we at” conversation way too early into it and freak out and say we shouldn’t see each other anymore before giving him time to respond appropriately

-Time to over-analyze everything he says for signs that he’s totes into me/totes not into me

-Making like 5 mixtapes for him that I will certainly never send

-This is the best/worst thing I have experienced in a while.  Whether it’s the best or the worst thing can change within the space of 5 minutes, for no particular reason.

To make myself feel better, I started doing some research on this state and what I found was not very encouraging.

Psychologists define limerance is defined as “an involuntary state of mind which results from a romantic attraction to another person combined with an overwhelming, obsessive need to have one’s feelings reciprocated.”  Experts believe it is biochemical in nature, functioning similarly to the way obsessive-compulsive disorder and addiction in the brain.  When you read through the symptoms of being in a limerant state, it’s clear to see how irrational, and, well, silly it is.  But remember that involuntary part?  Yeah.  You can’t control your thoughts.

There is a semantics issue here as well.  Polyamorist author Franklin Veaux claims limerance and NRE are actually different things - NRE being just positive, of course, and limerance being a little more of a grey area.  Even some limerance experts make a distinction between being limerant and “true romantic love”.  Frankly, I’m not sure I’m buying it.  Taking the same chemical reaction and splitting hairs to validate a positive outcome of limerance doesn’t help us rationally evaluate the state for what it is.

In a situation where you’re genuinely compatible with the object of your limerance and your feelings are reciprocated, it runs concurrently with the beginning of the falling-in-love process.  Eventually romantic love develops, and that grows stronger as the limerance fades over the months.  Then, in theory, you wind up in a healthy relationship.  That’s certainly been the case for my own marriage.

But even that happy ending doesn’t negate the fact that limerance is irrational and blinds you to reality.  I’m lucky that I experienced limerance for someone who was so perfect for me, but I’ve also experienced it for people who most certainly were not, which lead to getting into relationships that were very unhealthy.  Had I not been blinded initially by limerance, I would’ve been able to perceive that person wasn’t a good partner for me much earlier than I did.

Of course, that sounds like I’m shirking responsibility for bad decision-making, but I’m not.  I’m older and wiser now, and most importantly, aware of what limerance is and how it functions.  And I know I can control my actions, even if in a limerant state I feel almost completely unable to control my obsessive thoughts.  I can logically tell myself that you cannot fall in love in a matter of weeks, or even a few months, because you cannot know someone well enough to truly love them in such a short amount of time..  I can remind myself of what real romantic love feels like and understand that just because my body is telling me one thing my head knows better.  

What worries me is the celebration of this state in polyamorous culture, however.  For starters, limerance is inherently selfish.  It is not unconditional love or genuine regard for another person, although it’s easy to lie to yourself and say that it is.  The state is best evoked by the poets of the band “Cheap Trick” in their classic song “I You To Want Me.”  Note how many times the words “I” and “me” are used in that song.  

Limerance desires reciprocation above all else.  It’s ego-driven, and the opposite of selfless love.  This excellent blog post explains specifically the selfishness of an infatuated person. And yet polyamorist writers say things like “NRE is transcendent,” and “New relationship energy should always be celebrated,” and then avoid addressing the topic in too much detail.  Everyone’s favorite poly book of the moment, “More Than Two” is over 700 pages long, yet spends exactly two pages discussing NRE, and is largely very positive about it, just adding a few cautionary notes to not neglect your existing relationships while experiencing it.  That seems insufficient, given the degree to which NRE both creates and sometimes destroys relationships.

I’m not trying to say that limerance is bad, though.  It just is, and for most people, there’s no avoiding it unless you avoid other human beings.  What is bad is taking this involuntary, obsessive, crazy-making state and confusing it with love, or even with the beginning of love.  Just because limerance is something most people experience as they’re falling in love does not mean that limerance itself is the process of falling in love.  Limerance is chemicals in your brain trying to get you to make babies with another person, basically (no surprise so many safer-sex slip-ups also happen when in the throes of NRE).

It’s often referred to as a drug-like state, and I think we can take that metaphor further.  People can experience great, wonderful feelings while on drugs, and have insights that seem well, transcendent at the time.  (Oh hello, ecstasy!)  But those feelings and realizations are inorganic, they are literally being created by altered brain chemistry.  However, if an insight can actually be taken from that experience and applied fully to your life when you’re sober, that’s great.  But that didn’t come from the drug, that came from you.  When you’re on the drug, you’re not able to distinguish what is real that you’re feeling and what isn’t.  Or you can even have realizations that may be true but simply cannot be applied to your life while sober.  (Which reminds me of the time I decided there was no reason I should ever have to feel physical pain, because it’s simply an electric current being transmitted by nerves that our brains then interpret as an unpleasant sensation.  But with enough brain control you could interpret that signal as neutral.  Great idea!  Except it’s impossible, whoops.)  My point being that you can be limerant and actually falling in love with someone, but because your brain is “high” it’s impossible to tell in the moment whether you are or not.  You just have to wait until you’re “sober” to figure it out because being in limerance is literally an altered state.

The only way to experience this state without neglecting your life, work, hobbies, friends, and most importantly, your existing relationships is to be extremely aware of the irrationality of it - and then do your best to behave as if you are not experiencing it as much as you can (which will probably mean you’re only talking about your limerance object way too much, as opposed to the way way way way WAY too much you would be if you weren’t being self-conscious about it.)

So I’m against romanticizing NRE or at this point, even calling it NRE.  Referring to it as energy that comes from a relationship elevates the crazy to the same level as a love relationship, which it clearly is not.  It’s fine to enjoy it or rather, not enjoy it if you’re a control freak like me, but don’t call it something it’s not.

NRE Isn't Why We Fall In Love, But It Might Be Why We Break Up

For years, my biggest issue with polyamory, or more specifically, poly advice, was that the incredibly destructive, relationship-ending chemical rodeo known as “New Relationship Energy” (also known as “infatuation” if you’re level-headed, “limerence” if you’re a psychologist, or “love” if you’re an idiot) was downplayed consistently.  Many poly problems seemed to stem from bad choices or inconsiderate behavior made by one partner in NRE, while the other partner has to deal with the insecurity and jealousy of seeing their SO acting like a crazy person and showing little interest in them.  Feeling like you’re losing your partner to another is the primal fear that prevents many people from exploring poly and haunts many who do.  When you have a partner in full-on NRE, many of those fears seem to be coming true - because, maybe, they are!

For years, most people have viewed NRE, or whatever you want to call it, as crazy chemical drug that induces people to begin relationships for the sake of makin’ babies.  However, an article on The Quartz brings up the idea that maybe the point of NRE isn’t so much to get into new relationships, but rather to get out of an existing one.

It sounds crazy, but it also makes sense.  You don’t need NRE to start a relationship - it helps, but many solid relationships exist without NRE having ever been in play.  And certainly many relationships end without NRE for another factoring in.  But when one person leaves someone for another?  NRE is always in the mix.

The age old question in sexuality and relationship research was whether humans are fundamentally monogamous or not.  There are extremists on both sides arguing their case furiously, but reality seems to be more complicated.  A lot of evidence is starting to point towards the fact that when the status of the sexes are relatively equal, serial monogamy will be the norm.  This article argues that may be the way nature intended it to be.

I’m wary of the naturalistic fallacy no matter who it’s coming from - Conservatives on one side, Christopher Ryan of “Sex at Dawn” on the other.  From a common sense perspective though, ending an otherwise happy, stable relationship does seem strange, until you consider the idea that NRE might exist to encourage us to do just that.  

If there’s some truth to this hypothesis, it might help explain why poly relationships do seem, on the whole, more unstable than monogamous ones.  I know this will get the poly readers I don’t have huffy, but as much as we all love to hate him (and we do kinda hate him on this blog), Dan Savage famously remarked that he’s been to plenty of poly commitment ceremonies, but not a whole lot of poly three-year anniversary parties.  He has a point, and the point isn’t that polyamory is bad or invalid, but it is an inherently destabilizing relationship model.  Shira B. Katz, formerly of Pedestrian Polyamory (which ended when her marriage ended due to...NRE) and currently of Life On The Swingset and an enthusiastic and proud poly person has advocated that line many times as a positive, as does Franklin Veaux.  Two people who are famous poly experts who don’t put a lot of value in established relationships.  It’s not hard to find monogamous or “ish” people who have been together for 10 years.  It is quite difficult to find poly people who have maintained more than one relationship for 10 years.  (And when you do, it’s often a closed triad or V, which for some reason seems to be a more stable structure than others.)

These musings only matter if relationship stability is your primary goal when navigating an open relationship.  It isn’t for everyone, and that’s fine.  Many polyamorous folk look down on those of us who value that stability as engaging in “couple supremacy” and I say, hey, we are all free to choose what’s most important to us in life.  My current relationship is the most important thing to me outside of my basic personhood.  I know I could survive and thrive without my husband, but I just don’t want to, not if it could be helped.  We know, being in an open relationship, that NRE is possible.  Hell, I found myself in crazy, one-sided NRE with a friend that I simply had a crush on.  Despite my deep commitment to my husband, and the fact that I did not find this guy a good match in any other sense, I found myself indulging in fantasies of running away with my crush object.  It’s crazy, it defies reason, or even what I really want in my life, but that’s NRE for you.  It’s not logical.  And like all NRE, it passed, I’m really, honestly glad that he never made a pass at me, and I kept my feelings hidden from him.   It would have been incredibly destructive to the thing I hold most dear, and for what?  Indulging in a temporary chemical high with someone that I’m fundamentally incompatible with in a way that could have very likely harmed the relationship I care the most about?

I’m not saying that being poly is inherently bad, but I am saying it’s inherently destabilizing.   If maintaining an existing relationship is a primary goal of yours, opening yourself up to the possibility with NRE is risky, no matter what poly advice gurus will tell you.  It’s up to you to negotiate responsibly the line between risk and reward.  Tread carefully.

Rethinking Cheating in Sex-Negative Culture

I was recently blown away in not one, but two different posts in a certain community I frequent that involved the issue of cheating.  The first post was trying to mock the idea that sometimes, if someone cheats, revealing the act to their partner can be a selfish, destructive act.  The other post was discussing this incident, which is clearly about a privacy issue, but because infidelity was involved, quickly turned into an unimaginative and predictable series of tirades about how wayward spouses deserve to have their privacy violated, even by large telecommunication companies.


The basic gist of the comments in both posts boiled down to these "truths":

• There is never any scenario where cheating is "ok" or morally neutral or the lesser of two evils.  Ever.
• Any and all lying in a relationship is unhealthy, destructive, and bad.
• People who love their partners would never, ever cheat.

Of course, all these assumptions are tied up with Western culture's view of love, particularly the relatively recent notion of "romantic marriage" and idea of lifelong monogamy as natural and expected.  It's amazing how rarely these notions are unpacked, even amongst people who are generally down with sociology 101 and critical theory.  This isn't the moment where I propose polyamory or open relationships as the solution - I'm not one of those.  I tend to view the "marriage and monogamy" versus "non-monogamy" in the same way I view "capitalism" versus "communism" - both systems are full of flaws and rife with abuses, but the former in both cases is presented as the healthy, inevitable norm, and the latter as a crazy perversion of the natural order.


If two people in a relationship have decided that they are only interested in being monogamous, that is entirely justified.  But the lack of recognition that lifelong monogamy isn't a choice someone makes once, then forgets about - as opposed to a choice that is made on an ongoing, daily basis - is kind of ridiculous.  In one of these posts, a commenter sarcastically faux-whined, "Monogamy is hard!"  But that's the thing. It is hard, for most people!  Particularly in long-term relationships where infatuation has waned, and passions have shifted.  I mean, let's not do a disservice to all these couples who have made a commitment to monogamy and stuck to it, pretending that it's what comes easily and naturally to most people, because that's a load of shit.  In doing so we're negating the sacrifices and hard work that lifelong monogamy entails for most people.



But back on topic, why do people freak out about cheating so much?  "Because cheating is a horrible thing!"  Yeah, I know it is.  One of the first things that happens in a discussion about cheating and ethics is those who are of the "Cheaters are worse than Hitler!" camp start claiming that anyone who disagrees with them obviously has never been cheated on, or are even likely cheaters themselves.

I've been cheated on, in a very serious relationship, over a period of time.  I've been directly lied to even when I confronted the guilty party with hard evidence of their cheating.  I never suspected that this particular ex would ever cheat on me, and since we'd explicitly talked about the possibility of opening up our relationship if one of us ever had the urge to cheat, I trusted completely that he'd have no reason to do this.  I was utterly shattered, disgusted with my own naivete.  I came to loathe what really should be considered a good quality in myself: my trusting nature.


But the funny thing is, having the benefit of hindsight, I realize that being cheated on was far from the worst thing I endured in that relationship.  There are many, many ways people can hurt each other.  Many of them are purposeful, and while it's true that some people do use infidelity to lash out at their partners, generally it's more about the desire (emotional or sexual) of the person doing the cheating than anything else. 

"But it's a breach of trust!" the cheaters-are-evil brigade say.  Yes, it is.  So is, say, buying a car without your partner's permission. Yet the trope about the guy who brings home an expensive financed recreational purchase is not treated as nearly as big a transgression as the dreaded cheater.  Cheating is placed in a special category of extra-horrible-wrongness.  And sex-negative values has everything to do with it.


Part of the problem is the way sex and love are conflated.  Women in particular receive strong messages that for them, love has to be present for sex to be worthwhile or good.  That old cliche about trading sex for love actually is fairly spot-on as far as societal messages go.  And I know that for some people, sex is only satisfying and meaningful when in the context of a loving relationship.  Yet a brief glance at human history does make it pretty clear that this isn't the norm.  I suspect that most people have the capacity to enjoy sex within a variety of different dynamics. 

But for some reason, the idea of sex divorced from love is terrifying to many, so we get the idea that people who are  truly "in love" don't have any desire to have sex with other people.  The extreme end of this view are the deluded folks who get upset at the mere idea of their partners masturbating to images or even thoughts of other people.  "Committing adultery within the heart," as a sin, which is basically some crazy idea of thoughtcrime that denies most people's basic experience as sexual beings.  I remain convinced that the conflicts some couples have over porn viewing has a lot less to do with a feminist critique of the porn industry or women's-bodies-as-commodities and more to do with a physical and sexual insecurity so deep that the very thought of our partner getting off to an image other than our own is profoundly threatening.


This isn't to say that I want to blame people - and women in particular - for their insecurities around this issue.  We are bombarded with so many conflicting and fucked up messages about sex, desirability, body image, and relationships that it's amazing any of us can retain any sense of sexual self-esteem whatsoever.  Yet I have a hard time believing that the neurosis would be so deep and painful if we weren't buying into the "sex = love" message.  "If they really loved me, he wouldn't look at porn, because I would be enough," is not an uncommon refrain.  (Some of the folks who say this even admit to looking at porn themselves!)  But there's this fucked-up romantic ideal that we carry around with us that if we are the sexiest, most awesome lovers ever, our partners will fall so irrevocably in love/lust with us that they simply wouldn't have any interest in anyone else.  For the rest of their lives.  Of course, nobody can be the perfect love/lust object, but we hate ourselves for not measuring up, regardless.  And then sometimes we take it out on our partner, or random strangers on the internet who have the gall to confuse the narrative by challenging deeply-held notions about sex and love.

Why even bring up porn and masturbation habits in a discussion about cheating?  Because cheating is relative.   It is not uncommon to find people who describe porn-viewing as cheating.  Others draw the line at "netsex" or phone sex or flirting or kissing or non-physical "emotional affairs" or god knows what.  Cheating, we're told, is a black and white issue: always wrong, never justified, and always a symptom of a "deeper issue" in the relationship, yet we don't even agree on what cheating is!  It occurs to me that "cheating" is whatever event that trips up your own insecurities or jealousy to the point where you feel threatened.  Given that insecurities are personal and vary from person, it makes sense that the definition of what cheating is varies as well.  What doesn't make sense is that once we decide what cheating is, we allow for no gray area with regards to why someone cheats, or whether it's always a horrible, relationship-threatening event.


People cheat for a ton of reasons.  Sometimes the cheat inadvertently because they didn't have a common understanding of how their partner was defining cheating.  Sometimes they cheat because they don't want to be in a relationship, but have not been able to break it off.  Sometimes they cheat because they are horny, or have issues with sexual compulsion or impulsive behavior.  People cheat because they are afraid to ask for what they really want in their relationship, or because they are afraid their partner will leave them if they do.  It may sound crazy to many, but some people cheat because they want to stay in their relationship and are unwilling to go without sex.  Do any of these reasons justify lying to your partner?  No.  It would be far better if we lived in a magical world where relationships are simple, and honest communication is rewarded with empathy and understanding.   That's not the case, and it's frustrating when discussions about infidelity are derailed with reductivist, black and white thinking that don't allow for the full range of human experience and emotion in favor of demonizing cheaters regardless of the situation.

 What I don't get is why people who don't want to cheat and don't want to be cheated on are so insistent on keeping the narrative around cheating so, well, narrow.  Doesn't it make more sense to explore and understand other people's motivations and desires so we can better understand what leads people to cheat - and, if it's important to you - how to avoid situations where you or your partner are more likely to do so?  Just shaming cheaters as irredeemable and malicious doesn't help relationships or prevent cheating.  It just makes people less likely to talk about it, and the culture of silence around sexual desire that isn't socially-sanctioned just leads to a cycle of guilt.  Jimmy Carter may have been mocked for talking about his own non-monogamous desires in the famous 1976 Playboy interview, but he had a point that's worth considering today, dated language, Christian trappings and all.

"Because I'm just human and I'm tempted and Christ set some almost impossible standards for us. The Bible says, "Thou shalt not commit adultery." Christ said, I tell you that anyone who looks on a woman with lust has in his heart already committed adultery. I've looked on a lot of women with lust. I've committed adultery in my heart many times.... This is something that God recognizes, that I will do and have done, and God forgives me for it. But that doesn't mean that I condemn someone who not only looks on a woman with lust but who leaves his wife and shacks up with somebody out of wedlock. Christ says, don't consider yourself better than someone else because one guy screws a whole bunch of women while the other guy is loyal to his wife. The guy who's loyal to his wife ought not to be condescending or proud because of the relative degree of sinfulness."

Weekly Savaging

So ManOverBored and The Boy About Oaktown are not, in fact, Dan Savage fans.  This might have something to do with the fact that Dan Savage, advice columnist and editor-in-chief of the Seattle Stranger, is one of those rich white gay dudes who has little interest in political organizing that doesn't affect rich white gay dudes.  In short he has been consistently biphobic, transphobic, sexist, fatphobic, and racist and shows no desire to not be these things.

On the other hand, he's the first really sex-positive advice columnist, can be extremely funny, and is usually very good at giving sound, practical relationship and sex advice.  For this reason I have a soft spot for him (and by soft spot I mean, "I own autographed copies of all his books, read his column and download his podcast religiously, and would very much like to have sex with him") but despite my weakness I too recognize that Savage fucks up frequently and have no problem calling him out, as ManOverBored did in this post.

So we've decided to turn our Savage Hate into a weekly column in the spirit of Bitch Magazine's "Petty Jane Criticism Corner."  Enjoy!

For our first official installment, I'm taking issue not with Dan being a dick, but rather with plain ol' bad advice.  In the Savage Lovecast #186, a couple that has been dating for two scant months calls in with a serious issue.  They are a new couple and dig each other, but one wants to live monogamously, while the other wants to be polyamorous.  Neither has indicated a desire to compromise on the matter, and were calling into Dan for confirmation about what their heads were telling them - "We're fucked," as they put it - contrary to the desires of their hearts, because they are clearly infatuated with each other.

Now the Dan I know and love (with reservations) is a big proponent of Dumping The MotherFucker Already (DTMFA) and has repeatedly said that people with irreconcilable sexual differences should not be in relationships with each other.  So I was prepared for Dan to reinforce what this couple already knew - that they shouldn't be together.

Instead he calls them back and suggests they "compromise."  What?  Compromising on being monogamous is like being "kinda" pregnant.  It's not really possible.  He went on to say that couples in long-term relationships can often compromise on these sorts of issues, because they really want to be together.

This is true - in the context of, a couple has been together for a really long time, and one of them wants to make a major change, like becoming non-monogamous - to the relationship.  With the basis of trust that is built up in long-term relationships, this can sometimes work.  It can also end in giant flaming disaster.  But to suggest that a new couple proceed in the relationship for "six months to a year" to see if they could decide to compromise was some of the worst advice that I've ever heard.  While it may be painful for them to break up now, it will likely be far harder for them to disentangle themselves after a year of serious dating when their irreconcilable differences make it impossible to continue.

If they go forward as Dan suggested, the monogamous partner will always feel as if she is trying to "be enough" for her polyamorous partner.  She will never feel secure.  Meanwhile, her polyamorous partner, if he agrees to monogamy for the short term, is going to feel resentful at being forced into a lifestyle that he's clearly not interested in.  That is not a solid foundation upon which to build a relationship.  It's hard enough negotiating non-monogamy within the confines of an established, previously non-monogamous relationship - but these kids aren't even going to have the chance to build it.  They were right - they're fucked, unless one of them magically becomes OK with a lifestyle that they are currently adamant they do not want.

Bad Dan!  Bad!

The Problem w/ Poly, Part 1

My boyfriend's poly. I'm not.

Sounds like tagline for a Valtrex commercial, doesn't it? (Actually, let's stop while we're ahead with that train of thought.)

I'm not poly. My desired level of exclusivity isn't tied up in my identity. More than anything, I want emotional intimacy and connection, and I find it’s easier to get that on a deeper level if I have a commitment with one person, regardless of whether or not that’s an exclusive commitment. I am comfortable with occasional consensual dabbling outside of that commitment, but I don’t need it to be happy. I was very, very slutty in my youth. I'm mildly slutty now. Once upon a time I struggled with monogamy and thought I just couldn't do it. Now I find monogamy pretty damn easy. I work full time. I have friends, a home, hobbies, and a relationship with myself. I am lucky if I find one person I want to date regularly. Just thinking about trying to maintain multiple love relationships makes me tired.

I am not hating on non-exclusivity. I understand the benefits perfectly well. But for me, my ideal non-exclusive situation involves having the open door in those situations that make monogamy challenging- like when someone hot wants to make out with you at a party, or when you meet someone so enticing that it tempts you to stray. But the idea of actively seeking out additional partners when already in a steady relationship? IE, continuing to play the dating game once I’m already in a relationship? No thanks. For me, the whole point of having a boyfriend is that I no longer have to go on awkward dates with a lot of people. When I was younger, less experienced, and had more free time, it was a much more appealing prospect, but I also was a lot less particular about what I wanted from the people I dated.

I understand that for some folks, this “abundance of possibilities” keeps their relationship(s) exciting. But if I'm already getting laid regularly by my hot boyfriend, and I have a choice between going on a date with someone new or staying at home and watching True Blood and having a beer after an exhausting day of work? I'll take the latter (like I said, ten years ago, it would probably would have been the former). And if I'm at a play party and someone cute approaches me to play, that's rather a different story. But the reality is, I don't have time for multiple relationships in my already rather crowded daily life. Or rather, it's not a priority for me at this point of my life.

I will preface all this by saying I spent my twenties being rather slutty, and though I've lost count of my exact number of sex partners, it's probably somewhere in the eighties. I've fucked men, women and transfolks of all races, ages, shapes and colors. Kinky, vanilla, oral, anal, vaginal, fisting, pegging, group sex, snowballing, professional phone sex, golden showers, public sex- even if I didn't like it, I've at least tried it. I've drawn the line at animals, scat, snuff and children- otherwise, I've probably done it.

I've had more sex in my twenties than many people will have in their entire lives. I know my tastes and the nuances of my sexuality very well, and I've satisfied any number of curiosities. And I can tell you, with no regrets, that if I met the right person (and they would have to be as freaky as me), I would be very happy to be married and monogamous, as long as they were committed to having an active ongoing sex life with me. There was a point in my life where fucking a lot of people was a really exciting prospect. Now I'm a lot more turned on by going deeper with one person I have a really intense bond with. Because the truth is- I will play rougher, dirtier, nastier and more intensely with someone I trust, who knows me fairly well. Novelty and variety just doesn’t compare to that, for me.

The problem is, the people who are as freaky as me are generally not monogamous. Monogamy has come to seem borderline passe in the queer and kinky communities of Chicago. And I know from firsthand experience that trying to force somebody to be monogamous when they don't want to be doesn't work very well, having been on the other end of the equation when I was younger and hornier. This seems to be the sad irony of my life- I seem to attract monogamous people when I want to be non-monogamous, and vice-versa. I became involved with my current boyfriend even though he was seeking polyamory and I wasn't, because I liked him enough as a person and a sexual partner that this wasn't a deal breaker. As long as he prioritizes our relationship and handles himself well, his polyamory is not a deal breaker for me. And even if I am less interested in pursuing concurrent relationships, I still enjoy having the freedom to play with others as opportunities arise.

However, I do not call myself poly. Occasionally non monogamous or non exclusive, yes; poly, never. This all ties in to my earlier post "why I am not bi." To say I am non monogamous has a neutral connotation to me. To say I am Poly has an entire lifestyle philosophy hitched to it, a lifestyle I find myself at odds with on a regular basis. In part two, I’ll go into my specific issues with polyamory, and why I once embraced the label and lifestyle and why I now find it doesn’t work for me at all.

Until then, if someone could please explain why a bunch of stick figures riding a broomstick together represents polyamory, I'd appreciate it.

Why Don't We Talk About The Sex We're Going to Have?

Most people are really bad about talking about sex. While I can't say this definitively, I have had enough sex partners to know that this lack of communication is far too common. I've spent five hours sitting on the couch with a person who I'd agreed to meet explicitly for the purpose of casual sex, all while struggling to bring up sex and instead being talked to about food and movies. When it comes down to the act of fucking, I want to know more how one feels about rimming than the works of Quentin Tarantino. Why give attention to the wrong asshole?

A while back, I met a couple through an online hookup site. They seemed nice. We talked at length in e-mails about what we were into. One was a top, one was a bottom, and both wanted to get into a wild nasty threesome. I was stoked. When I arrived at their house, I was given a tour of their art collection and then spent an hour in the kitchen talking about politics, art, and interior design. Both got coy when I brought up the topic of sex, so I stopped trying. Once the hour had passed, one finally asked if I wanted to go “play”. I have to admit, that put me off. I wasn't there to play. I wanted to fuck. I was there for sex, which I view as more than just play. Play is “Monopoly”. Play doesn't require an hour of awkwardly standing in a kitchen talking about the merits of mid-century modern light fixtures.

What resulted was blah at best. One person laid on the bed and stroked himself while staring at the ceiling while the other kept tweaking my nipples and telling me how nice my genitals looked. I finally asked the nipple-tweaking self-professed bottom if he'd like to bend over, he told me that I looked hot and went back to tweaking my nipples. Yes, I finally got off, but it wasn't really hot. It certainly wasn't what we'd talked about for the previous week. In a follow up e-mail, the bottom told me he really wished we had done more and would like to do that in the future. He said it would be “hot”. No, hot would be having sex that includes what we want, not the drabness that we had.

The best sex I've ever had has been with my current partner. We talk about sex. We use dirty words and tell each other about naughty fantasies and the most amazing thing is that we act on those fantasies because we put them out there and made each other aware of them. We've delved into our deepest, most fucked up fantasies and come up with really great bed-rocking sex. It works because we open ourselves up about the sex we want to have.

How can we expect to be good lovers if we never seek out what our partners want? We've come to believe that sex exists apart from the rest of our interactions. We talk to get people into bed, but once they're there we expect it be like it is in movies. It's supposed to be organic. Our partner's body moves with ours, his or her response is tremendous and the other person responds to your actions as if they are doing what the person has most longed for.

That's not realistic. One would never walk into a restaurant and expect the waiter to bring exactly the right dishes and beverages that would make the meal we dream of without ever placing an order. How can we treat sex like it's psychic help? We have to engage our partners, even if it's just a one-night hookup. Critical to decent sex is that we understand what the other person wants. It's why sex improves in relationships. We slowly learn what the other person wants. Is it so unreasonable to just ask?

Beyond asking, can't we just talk about it beforehand? I think this is born out of of lack of respect for fucking. It's something we should talk about. We can want it. Even when it's the reason for us getting together, we still treat it as being unfit for discussion. Sex is primary. It is crucial. In a society suffering a the tyranny of acceptable mediocre sex, we have to take the revolutionary stand that we're going to talk our way into sex, not just into bed.

We're Doing It Wrong: How Poly Should Be

So it's only fair that since I praised Pepomint for his post "Respecting Sexual Identity" and his blog, Freaksexual, in general in the inaugural post of Sex and Television that I can take him to task without feeling too guilty.  Fact is, Pepomint is one of the few serious critical thinkers that the Boy and I have seen writing seriously about poly issues and how they intersect with queerness, feminism, and kink.  That's fantastic, but obviously I'm not going to agree with one person about everything, and while driving down the 101 with the Boy last Sunday, caught a discussion between Pepomint, Tacit, and Joreth (I don't know where they get these names either, folks) on "Polyamory Weekly" podcast about the concept of "Primaries" and "Secondaries" in polyamorous relationships.  And I hope the words below are understood as a rant and not as some sort of reflection on my opinion of those who spoke them.  Except maybe Joreth, she did the previous "Poly and Athiesm" episode on the podcast and has a lot to answer for!

Full disclaimer: we don't define ourselves as being polyamorous as an orientation (in fact, I question it as an orientation akin to sexual orientation but that's a subject for another rant) nor do we consider our relationship polyamorous.  This isn't by choice, exactly - in our years reading polyamorous communities extensively on the web, as well as a handful of books, it's become clear that the community consensus of how polyamory is defined excludes us, despite the fact that we're non-monogamous.  I'm okay with this, although I am often frustrated at how narrow-minded polyamorous communities can be regarding other non-monogamous types, whether it's swingers or people in open relationships that don't necessarily focus on multiple "romantic" relationships.  I think there's a lot of sex-negativity tied up in the poly community's response to these alternative relationship styles - oops, getting off track again.  Subject for yet another future post.

But the point is, poly already seems to have a fairly narrow definition.  For those who might be new to the concept, it's basically a relational style in which one is open to having multiple, concurrent romantic relationships.  It is stressed that this does not meant cheating, because it's open and honest, and that it's "not all about the sex," as in, these relationships probably usually involve sex but the primary focus is loving, romantic partnerships.  I think from the outset this is problematic, particularly in the somewhat naive focus on the bizarre medieval concept that is "romantic love" set apart from say, loving friendships.  Basically, if you're in an open relationship, but you have one say, "life partner" (what a terrible term that is!) and several "friends with benefits" that isn't polyamory, because while you may be genuinely emotionally intimate with your fuckbuddies, it's not a romantic relationship.

This is irksome to someone like me, who was told point-blank on a poly forum that fuckbuddies don't count because maintaining a friendship that is also sexual with someone is "easy" while romantic relationships are "hard."  I don't know about you kids, but dealing with everyone's emotions surrounding transitioning a years-long friendship into a sexual relationship while still remaining friends is one of the more challenging things I've done.  Are those challenges different than having two romantic relationships?  Absolutely.  But it's insulting, particularly given the idea that poly is supposed to be this super radical redefinition of the way that people love and experience relationships, to already have such a narrow boundary enforced.  But wait!  It gets even narrower.

In Polyamory Weekly Episode #232, the above-mentioned co-hosts took one of fundamental styles of a poly relationship - the hierarchical "primary/secondary" situation - took it out back, beat it, and totally forgot the safeword.  It wasn't just a critical examination of the concept or the copious issues that accompany it (namely, the fact that secondaries are often treated like shit) which would have been welcome, particularly on a podcast such as PolyWeekly that rarely engages in any serious critique.  It was an intelligent, interesting discussion that also managed to be entirely dismissive and judgmental.  As I shouted to the Boy, "It's like they're finally having the sort of conversation I've been dying to hear on this podcast, and being total dicks about it!"

A quick primer: some poly people have "hierarchies" of relationships in which they engage in a central, committed relationship with one partner, and then have one or more "secondaries" and while it's understood this is also a loving relationship, it will likely not have the same degree of real-world enmeshment as understood vis-a-vis kids, shared financial obligations, and so forth.  Other people people prefer to treat all relationships as different, but equal in importance and priority.

It also is particularly telling in light of my previous post about the "One Penis Policy" in poly relationships and not entirely ironic given the content of Pepomint's "Respecting Identities" post.  What we were told in this episode was that people who engage in heirarchical poly structures are:

• Doing so out of fear
• Inherently devaluing secondaries
• Engaging in a "little monogamy" despite obviously not being monogamous (respecting what identity wha? who?)

When I first started reading about poly, non-hierarchical structures were presented as a way to be poly, along with hierarchical structures.  This has now clearly shifted to the former being accepted as "real poly" by a large segment of the community  and the latter being completely shit upon.   It doesn't matter if everyone within your poly relationships are happy with hierarchical structures or if it works for you: you're doing it wrong.

There's a term in poly for this kind of bullshit: One True Way-ism.  And that's exactly what this is.  As I said before, I'm down with a serious look at the problematic elements and pitfalls of a poly hierarchy.  Hell, I welcome it!  But it's profoundly insulting to tell people who have made commitments or set boundaries with their partners that work for them that they are doing so out of fear and jealousy, and are basically just as bad as those (boo, hiss) monogamists.

I think it's pretty obvious why this one-true-wayism is ridiculous, but let's break it down anyway.  For starters, the discussion on the podcast never mentioned the possibility that rules/boundaries evolve over time.  Most people are introduced to poly when they are already in a romantic, previously monogamous relationship.  Transitioning from monogamy to polyamory is obviously a process.  This was given absolutely no weight by the PolyWeekly crew, who apparently think it's entirely reasonable to expect a couple, married and mono for 16 years, to jump straight into a style of poly that gives no partner veto power over what the other partner is doing with other people, no room or time to become accustomed and comfortable with going from security in knowing you are the primary focus in your spouse's life to  being "equal" in importance and priority to some 10-years-younger hottie your spouse is banging and totally infatuated with.  This is a great way to be burnt by a poly experience, not to develop an open and honest poly relationship.  It is extremely typical for people in non-monogamous relationships have used rules and boundaries to establish a comfort zone that enables them to later leave behind most, and even sometimes all of those rules eventually, because the trust you've established with your partner in that sort of relationship evolution creates a strong foundation.  Shoving people into the deep end of the pool without water wings does the opposite.

And since I mentioned priorities, can we get over the pollyanna-ish refusal to acknowledge that human beings have limited time and resources which necessitates prioritizing events, and horror-of-horrors, even people.  We don't find it problematic if a mother prioritizes the well-being of her children over a bum of a romantic partner, or if a spouse prioritizes the needs of his partner over his crazy, demanding parents.  It is profoundly difficult to keep everyone happy all of the time, and part of life is having to make choices.  I'm not saying it's not possible to have a truly non-hierarchical poly structure in which all participants are equals, but that it's an extremely advanced relationship skill in a model that already requires better-than-average patience, communication, and emotional regulation.  I'd be willing to wager it's far easier to have a non-hierarchical model in which there is not an established, long-term relationship in the background that was previously monogamous. 

I can think of a million tedious examples of a situation in which partners in a non-hierarchical model could have relationship-ending dramas unfold due to issues that can't be solved with the "poly expert's advice for every problem ever": communication.  Sometimes people just have different needs that cannot be reconciled.  In such a case, people are forced to make choices, and those choices are generally based on - you guessed it! - priorities.  As someone who might have read a bit too much self-help in her time, I find the implied notion of the discussion regarding boundaries deeply troubling.  Fact is, we all have fears and insecurities.  Some people are better than others at understanding their own baggage, and thus articulating what it is they need to feel safe.  The basic poly approach to dealing with troublesome emotions, first articulated in tripe such as "The Ethical Slut" and then repeated endlessly ever after, is to figure why you feel shitty, then take a bubble bath and eat some chocolate.  Problem solved!  Oh, and I left out "communicate."  My bad.

In reality, emotionally healthy and in-touch individuals can know why they are triggered by a behavior or situation, understand that it's "irrational" and still decide they'd rather not deal with that emotion if they can help it: by establishing boundaries with their partner that they both agree upon.  Maybe eventually they'll be able to get past whatever thing it is that triggers their fear of abandonment or seething rage or whatever, but maybe not, but at least they're dealing with it grown ups in taking responsibility for their own emotional state by clearly articulating those needs.  If one of those needs is, "In order to feel comfortable sharing a mortgage/children/a life with you, that I will take top priority ultimately in your decision making as it relates to other partners," that does not make a person less poly, or less evolved, or any other high-horse bullshit.  It just means they're communicating honestly which is exactly what I keep being told being poly is all about.

The point of view expressed in the episode certainly seemed to come from a bunch of burned secondaries who had been treated as disposable or unimportant in a situation where their partner had a primary relationship, and that is certainly understandable and deplorable.  But that doesn't negate or remove the clumsy and offensive armchair shrinking, identity policing, and boundary dismissing tactics employed in what was frustratingly, the podcast's best and yet worst episode to date.

Who's Down With OPP? Nobody!

This is re-posted and somewhat modified for ease of reading from my old LiveJournal account.

This entry was inspired by a famous domme and columnist, who wrote an article about the "One Penis Policy" wherein a straight man and a bi woman in a polyamorous relationship have an agreement that they can both sleep with women, but not men.  She also solicited opinions on several of LiveJournal's polyamorous communities.  Unsurprisingly, a dude took exception to the negative reaction to those types of relationship configurations, and drama exploded all over various journals, some time ago.

The fact is, yes, there is absolutely an element of good ol' patriarchal sexism in what appears to be, on the surface, a guy getting to have his cake (i.e. sleep with multiple women aside from his partner) and eat it too (not having to deal with feeling threatened because she's sleeping with other men).

The unspoken assumption in the drama is that most poly people consist of straight men and bisexual women.  Those who took exception to the idea of the OPP also had with them the assumption that the man who institutes an OPP policy does so because he sees female same-sex activity as "not real sex."  I'm sympathetic to this assumption because it's a basic cultural assumption as well. And it didn't help that the men arguing in favor of OPP policies as valid expressions of polyamory did so in a sexist, dismissive way.  That said, I saw some sexism on the part of the men arguing against OPP policies, so.  Surprise: lots of men in polyamory are sexist, kind of like men everywhere. 

That said, some of their arguments were fairly valid.  The one guy that got jumped on initially was trying to make the point that an OPP can be a valid "first step" and is OK as a temporary measure but is kind of bullshit as a long-term edict.  Unfortunately, his phrasing revolved around the idea that men inherently feel threatened by penises not their own.  I'd like to think he would have been received more positively if he made the point that many people of various genders are more likely to feel threatened, jealous, and insecure when their partner is sleeping with someone that they themselves are more likely to compare themselves to.  Now because of the fact that we live in an ugly patriarchal culture, there's a ton of other baggage in his comments as well, particularly as it applies to the straight man/bi woman relationships, but! 

But, I'm not a "choice feminist" and I'm generally annoyed by people who want to examine rindividualistic issues while ignoring a larger sexist context.  But!  In this case the "rare individual case that goes against the stereotype" is my life.  Within all this discussion, the idea of a "One Vagina Policy" agreement is ignored (Yay for bisexual male invisibility, eh?),  and then when I keep pressing the issue, I'm told that it's stupid, selfish, and unfair. 

Of course, when you break it down individually, things look a bit different.  We have a OVP (That is, One Vagina Policy) in the sense that the Boy About Town doesn't have my permission to have sex with other women without me.  I do not feel comfortable with that at this point.  Of course, he also hasn't expressed a desire to do so, and it's less a "policy" and more of an agreement.  The thing is, I also don't have explicit permission to have sex with men without the Boy present, barring one exception that has been hashed out and discussed for like, years.  If I want to have sex with another guy, it's on a conditional, must-be-discussed prior basis, and it hasn't come up yet.  Call me crazy, but this all sounds pretty reasonable, but for all intents and purposes we still have an "OVP."  If he wants to have sex with a guy, I just ask he lets me know the address and time he's leaving, and to check in when he's done, so I know where to send the CSI: Simi Valley SWAT team when he inevitably meets his doom at the hands of some serial killer.  But if he were actively wanting to get with a lady? That would require quite a bit more of negotiation and dreary "talking it out" sessions, because I'm a typical fat, insecure American woman.  Sue me.

I'm willing to bet that there are individual arrangements within OPP couples that probably sound a lot more sympathetic once we get beyond the repulsiveness of the concept.  What if the bi woman in an OPP scenario genuinely has no interest in sleeping with other men?  Is it only an OPP if her male partner wouldn't want her to sleep with other guys?  What about couples whose activity is restricted to a poly-fidelitious MFF?  Is that still expressing the dreaded OPP?  What if a bi woman is able to sleep with women, and not men, but her male partner isn't sleeping with women?

The thing is, this works for us, right now, just fine.  Is it irrational? Duh.

I'm not trying to excuse the prevalence of OPPs in polyamorous circles, they do seem disturbingly common and on the surface they seem sexist and unfair and I'm willing to bet that assumption isn't off-base in the vast majority of cases.  I am sure that behind the idea of OPPs for many couples is the idea that same-sex play between women "isn't really sex" and a possessiveness that is based in a male sense of ownership and entitlement.  But there's also garden-variety insecurity and jealousy that can't be divorced from a sexist context that is still valid.  The notion that a couple has to jump fully into an "everything is totally equal" polyamorous relationship seems rather against the basic ideas of communication and boundary setting so touted by polyamorous experts.  I don't think unequal "rules" in relationships are inherently bad if both partners happily agree to them or desire them.

An example: let's say a guy is OK with his wife spending the night at her boyfriend's house, but she feels bad when he's not in bed with her at the end of the day and has asked him not to spend the night with his girlfriend.  Unfair?  I guess, yeah, but sometimes everything being "equal for the sake of equality" isn't what's best for a relationship.  If the guy in the scenario doesn't particularly mind agreeing to his partner's request, then is it a problem?  Obviously it's not a perfect analogy, but the idea that there is, often, in open relationships a constant process of communication and boundary setting - with certain boundaries falling away as the couple becomes more secure, and perhaps other ones being put up after they feel burned by an experience.

I think we can ask a man who is in a relationship to own the sexist assumptions that has lead to him feeling threatened by his female partner having sex with other men.  In an individual psychological sense, it's also fair to ask anyone who wants to be in an open relationship yet feels insecure to learn to deal with and own their insecurities and not project them onto their partner.  But it's a process, particularly if a couple is transitioning from monogamy to non-monogamy.  Acknowledging sexism doesn't mean that the feelings surrounding it are going to magically go away - that's why you work through it. 

None of this should be read to say, "Private sexual choices are sacrosanct because what I do behind closed doors doesn't affect anything else."  That is obviously a painfully stupid way to go about your life.  But I think the psychological aspects involved in a couple's boundary setting are valid and that should be acknowledged as well.

If you're clamoring for the background on the ancient drama that spawned this post, feel free to read this delightful writeup from some random person here, which will lead you to all the good stuff.  It's worth noting that at one point during the fray, people did come out of the woodwork to describe men who voluntarily moved from an OPP to a gender-equal poly relationship.  Mistress Matisse claims this doesn't really happen, because, "It's a rare individual who willingly gives up an arrangement where he gets everything he wants and nothing he doesn't."  While I do agree with her on the scarcisty of guys who aren't assholes, it would be nice to acknowledge that there are men who will deal with "something he doesn't want" to make their partner happy.