“Kad sam god probala s monogamijom završilo bi tako da se ljubim s nekim drugim jer imam romantične osjećaje i prema ženama i prema muškarcima. Ne želim te povrijediti pa hajd’mo biti poliamorični”, ovako za Guardianmuškarac opisuje početak svoje “otvorene” veze, u kojem su i ona i on smjeli biti s drugima, dok su vezi jedno s drugim. Piše kako mu je poliamorijabila posve drugačije iskustvo, jer je odgojen kao fundamentalni kršćanin (s čim je raskinuo došavši na misu našminkan i u majici System of a Down) te da je osjećao kombinaciju uzbuđenja i traume. Opisuje i kako se osjećao neobično u statusu “prvotnog seksualnog partnera” te se pitao je li u korijenu poliamorije bila možda neriješena ljubomora ili trauma… » Guardian
“Try not to sleep with her,” my girlfriend said as we stepped out of her apartment to meet another girl. “But I won’t be mad if you do,” she added. Phoebe didn’t like being called my girlfriend, but I always cringed at her preferred term, “primary sexual partner”. It sounded like the kind of thing you’d hear at a seminar on tantric rebirthing.
We met at a house party where everyone was bedraggled with sweat. It was the hot season in the foreign city where we lived, and when we went back to her place we locked ourselves away with the air-conditioning blasting on full.
After a month of refrigerated liaisons, we met for cheap Korean sushi. Phoebe was bisexual and I didn’t know what that meant for our new relationship. “I really like you,” she said. “But whenever I’ve tried monogamy, I’ve ended up kissing someone else because I have romantic feelings for men and women. I don’t want to hurt you so let’s be polyamorous.”
Polyamorists believe that it’s possible to be romantically committed to more than one person at once. The term was coined in 1990 by the fantastically named Morning Glory Zell-Ravenheart, and the word now encapsulates a myriad of non-monogamous arrangements.
Phoebe claimed never to feel jealousy. She said she had learned not to during a difficult previous relationship. She didn’t speak much about it. She said it was abusive, which made me wonder if she truly had dealt with her jealousy or was merely numb from trauma. I gave her the benefit of the doubt.
But it sounded a bit much to me. What if she preferred another lover and ran off? But perhaps it was worth considering an alternative to monogamy. After all, we’re attracted to many people whether in a relationship or not. Perhaps if Phoebe and I threw off our constraints we could enter some kind of promised land flowing with milk and guilt-free sex. Could we have our cake and eat it too?
Polyamory felt weird at first, particularly as an ex-fundamentalist Christian. I remember being 11, lying in the summer grass flicking through my Youth Bible. Inserted into the text were stories in boxes showing how to apply Biblical teachings to modern life. I knew sex was important and it had something to do with naked girls – a subject I was already developing a keen enthusiasm for. So I looked up a story in the “sex and relationships” section. It was about a teenage couple who had premarital sex and prayed for forgiveness. I slammed the book shut, scaring a butterfly. Even if I got married straight out of university it would be years until I could have sex. I was dismayed.
It was a conflicted sexual awakening. Throughout adolescence masturbation took on terrifying metaphysical implications and, while my male friends were agog at the sight of their first naked breasts, I was alone on a stormy moral high ground. Eventually, I decided the Christian beliefs I had been raised with were false. I felt like I had been lied to. The last time I was guilt-tripped into attending church, I sulked at the back wearing black eyeliner, black nail polish and a black System of a Down T-shirt.
Now my goth years are thankfully behind me, I tend to think that sex is healthy in many different contexts. It’s not some kind of holy superglue assigned to monogamous couples. But it took years.
Phoebe and I didn’t throw off all constraints. We decided on a form of polyamory that involved having primary and secondary sexual partners. As each other’s primaries we had to consult each other before we could sleep with other people, though we could kiss and flirt at will. Soon I was tasting the candy-flavoured lip-gloss of another girl. Ellie was a pretty, bookish girl who was a crush of mine (and Phoebe’s). My heart was rushing but feelings of shame curled around my ribcage like poisonous vapour.
“Did you make out with Ellie?” Phoebe asked later. She was interested in forming a triad with Ellie – where the three of us became enmeshed in a romantic relationship.
“Yes, but we both felt guilty,” I said. “Like we were cheating on you.” Phoebe threw an arm around my neck. “We have to go beyond guilt and transcend jealousy,” she said.
Easier said than done. I was practically glowing with jealousy when Phoebe went on a date of her own. Sitting on my bed, I followed instructions in the classic primer on the subject, The Ethical Slut, and wrote a journal entry to explore my feelings. It was going well but my stream-of-consciousness kept on morphing into erotic imaginings and I kept thinking about what Phoebe and the waitress might get up to. It made for a confusingly arousing and traumatising experience.
Eventually, Ellie, Phoebe and I had a three-way date. It took a while to synchronise everyone’s calendars. Polyamory might sound good but it can be a logistical nightmare. Phoebe and I barely had enough time to date each other let alone a cast of secondary partners. But instead of a threesome we just ended up hanging out in an ice-cream parlour, spooning apart scoops with happy faces drawn in chocolate sauce. “I didn’t want to come between the two of you,” Ellie said later.
Perhaps the triad would have happened if we’d had more time, but one of the problems with living abroad is that expats come and go. Ellie and Phoebe both left.
I met Siobhan shortly before Phoebe left.
Siobhan and I started as soon as I had passed through the various stages of heartbreak over Phoebe. I took her on my standard date: dinner at a trendy noodle bar followed by a motorcycle ride across town to a riverside spot where, if all goes to plan, kissing and breast-groping ensues.
She was straight. “I don’t date more than one person,” she said.
After I dropped her at home, I sat on my bike and considered returning to monogamy. Sure, polyamory is fine if one or both partners are bisexual. And if you are interested in renaming yourself Morning Glory Zell-Ravenheart, then the chances are that polyamory isn’t the weirdest thing you do. But for me, now, this seems more appropriate.