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Poly MOOC 4.1 Intimacy Satisfaction Commitment

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Poly MOOC 4.1 Intimacy Satisfaction Commitment

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4 1 Poly MOOC 2014 Intimacy satisfaction commitment

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Emotional Intimacy in Polyamorous Relationships | Psychology Today

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Emotional Intimacy in Polyamorous Relationships | Psychology Today

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Almost every time I speak to a general-public audience about my research on polyamory, someone eventually asks if poly people's desire for multiple partners means that they don't really love each other, are not truly emotionally intimate. Because serial monogamy-the practice of establishing a romantic relationship with one person, breaking up, and engaging in another subsequent relationship with a new person-is the norm in contemporary US society, other kinds of relationships contrast as poor substitutes for the "real" relationship form.

For people in monogamous relationships, it can be hard to imagine how polyamorists can nurture emotional connections with multiple partners simultaneously. In a society with too few rites of passage, "settling down" into a monogamous relationship is one of the few remaining hallmarks of maturity. Non-monogamy, in contrast, can appear immature, insincere, and insecure.

Some polyamorists, however, report that the process of negotiating relationships outside of the norm inevitably fosters emotional intimacy through the amount of communication, honesty, and self-growth that comes with crafting these unconventional relationships.
Communication
Communication is one of the most distinguishing features of polyamorous relationships: Poly people rely on communication to negotiate relationship boundaries and safer sex agreements, express their feelings, and get to know each other. Essential to the care and feeding of nearly every poly romance, communication is the primary vehicle polys use to establish emotional intimacy. While poly folks often enjoy sexuality, and sexual intimacy can certainly contribute to emotional intimacy, very few polyamorous (or monogamous) relationships can thrive without consistent and intentional communication.
Honesty
People in poly communities often emphasize non-violent communication (using "I statements" and listening compassionately) and radical honesty (telling the truth even if it is not comfortable or convenient) as methods to establish intimacy and work through conflict. Key to both of those practices is honesty, with self and others. Telling lies means negotiating in bad faith, a breach of poly community norms that prize honesty above all else. Most importantly, without honesty, it is very difficult to feel safe and trust that partners will live up to safer-sex and other agreements.
Self-Growth
While some poly people claim (and even occasionally appear) to be immune to jealousy, most people in multiple partner relationships have had to deal with jealousy at some point. Polys often talk about jealousy as being a symptom of other emotions such as insecurity or anger, and position candid communication as the route to managing potentially challenging or painful feelings. All of this communication and honesty routinely leads to self-growth borne of introspection and working through relationship conflict.

Having to face their insecurities, question their motives, and consider their own boundaries almost forces poly people to either get to know themselves, or leave the relationship style. Much like some serial-monogamists, those polys who neither come to grips with their issues nor leave the relationship style tend to go from one dramatic relationship explosion to the next.
Enough Love to Go Around
When discussing their relationship style, polys routinely point to their abundance of love and often compare loving multiple partners to loving multiple children. Polys point out that parents do not stop loving the children they have simply because they have another child. Rather, their love grows to encompass that new child and still includes previous children. In that same way, polys can still love their former partners even though they fall in love with someone else as well.

For polyamorists love need not be a zero sum game, and loving one person does not mean they have less love for someone else. That does not mean that some polys are not in it for the sex-and they do not need an excuse, they are up front about wanting to have sexual variety. Most significantly, this sexual variety does not have to come at the expense of emotional intimacy. Some poly people really can have their cake and eat it too!
The Downside
This is not to say that every poly relationship hovers in blissful defiance of reality. Though love may be infinite, free time is often in short supply, and when time spent with one comes at the expense of time with another it can lead to jealousy and hurt feelings. Some polys deal with this by spending time together in groups so no one is excluded.

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Emotional Intimacy in Polyamorous Relationships

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Almost every time I speak to a general-public audience about my research on polyamory, someone eventually asks if poly people's desire for multiple partners means that they don't really love each other, are not truly emotionally intimate.

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Polyamory: Label or Process? - Reality Sandwich

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Polyamory: Label or Process? - Reality Sandwich

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What does the label "polyamory" mean? Literally, many loves. And, some would assume, therefore many lovers.

In the popular culture, this term conjures up images of wife-swapping, anything-goes kinkiness. Somehow its true meaning has been perjoratively distorted into something resembling "polyfuckery." Asking people what they thought it meant, most snickered and said, "swingers," "sport fucking." Some confused it with polygamy or bi-sexuality. To distinguish polyamory from "swingers," one can characterize swingers as more physically available, whereas polyamours are more emotionally available.

Though the term polyamory is commonly used as shorthand for sexual openness, its core remains in the un-nameable poetry between souls as they recognize and honor the sparks they see within each other. What distinguishes the spirit of polyamory from more conventionally defined relationship roles is the suspension of fear, both of our selves and of others. To truly be free to love requires a deep trust in the resonance within oneself, and the discernment to recognize and honor that quality in others. A beautiful poem by Rumi captures this glimpse:

We have not come here to take prisoners,
But to surrender ever more deeply
To freedom and joy.
We have not come into this exquisite world
To hold ourselves hostage from love.
Run my dear.
From anything
That may not strengthen
Your precious budding wings.
Run like hell my dear
From anyone likely
To put a sharp knife
Into the sacred, tender vision
Of your beautiful heart.
We have a duty to befriend
Those aspects of obedience
That stand outside of our house
And shout to our reason
"O please, O please,
Come out and play."
For we have not come here to take prisoners
Or to confine our wondrous spirits,
But to expereince ever and ever more deeply
Our divine courage, freedom, and
Light!

In its essence, polyamory is intimacy. The human heart is quite capable, under the right conditions, of honoring multiple channels of intimacy. In contrast, the monogamous extreme would hold that intimacy is the product of an exclusive emotional and presumably sexual relationship.

Of course, the reality for many people is somewhere in the spectrum between these two poles. They may have a mosaic of different types and qualities of intimacy. For example, someone may cultivate brotherly love with buddies or co-workers, smoldering romantic tension at the taco stand, occasional flings with an old classmate, and a comfortable domestic sexual partnership at home. So what is it, then, that qualifies as polyamory?

The main feature is that all those involved would have full knowledge of, and consent for, what the others feel and do. This of course requires a deep respect for the need others have for additional meaningful relationships. A great deal of effective and honest communication is required to achieve this, and boundaries must be clearly and carefully established among all parties to prevent misunderstandings or disrespect.

For those to whom this concept is new, perhaps the most puzzling thing about the label of polyamory is that it is not a formula. Though conventional monogamous marriages may vary, there exists a general consensus about the conventional sets of expectations, entitlements, and compromises that most couples would expect to abide by.

In contrast, polyamorous arrangements are cultivated and clarified in an ongoing process. There is no particular guarantee about sex, quality time, income, and so on. These and many other factors must be addressed on a situational basis. Frequently, there is an arrangement of veto powers for the primary dyad of the polyamorous couple. So, polyamory exists in a rare paradox of brave experimentality and playfulness, while remaining rigorously "no-bullshit" in the open communication of the positions of its participants.

Mainstream cultural fears about such arrangements may be unfounded. Though most people in a committed relationship would describe themselves as monogamous, over time, many – if not most – of these relationships are terminated by breakup or divorce, on average at about 4 to 5 years. In contrast, a survey of committed polyamorous couples found their average duration to be twice that, at over ten years.

Advocates of monogamy-only relationships, such as the "Family Values" set, may pause to acknowledge that chances are quite good that they or their spouse are de facto in some continuum of what sexologist Betty Dodson terms "serial monogamy with cheating on the side." So looking at it that way, the monogamous program in many cases is just a truncated and more dysfunctional version of polyamory: less duration and poorer communication.

Many practitioners of polyamory are in long-term relationships. To do this sustainably requires participants to be highly functional, self-actualized and honest with themselves and about their interactions. In other words, this is not something that everybody can do. We all know that many lack the communication skills and ego security to even start an intimate relationship or maintain it, let alone add additional people to the equation. It requires an active and self-directed morality, one in which empathy for others' experience, personal responsibility, and raw honesty are ground rules. As someone who lives the poly lifestyle recently said, "What really seems important to me, in relationships these days, is not choosing monogamy, but choosing openness, authenticity, trust and communication."

To place this attitude in its proper context of psychology theory, we can draw some important insight from psychologist Lawrence Kohlberg's famous "Stages of Moral Development." He describes morality as a series of six levels that develop concurrently with reasoning ability. For example, young children and later young adults go through a typical progression involving: 1) avoiding punishment, 2) discovering selfish opportunities, 3) conformity with conventional attitudes, 4) law-and-order based on authority, 5) the consideration of the greater good of the society, and 6) acting from the principled conscience. With increased development, the social imagination allows insight into the experience of others and the broader society.

It is important to note a major distinction between levels 4 and 5. The social-order maintenance of level 4 operates from a fundamentalist belief that laws or social conventions are moral by virtue of simply existing as laws or traditions. Therefore they must be maintained to prevent some anticipated anarchy of further rule-breaking. In contrast, level 5 social contract orientation is based in the democratic idea that laws are malleable by the collective in order to serve the society and its individuals better.
Rather than people being the tools of law, we have laws used as tools for the people. This idea is at the heart of the distinction that divides medieval fundamentalist thinking from the later humanist thinking of the Age of Enlightenment which revived democracy and its associated rights. From this perspective, we can approach level 6 and see that the humanist endeavor tends toward a goal of more integrated ethics. As microcosms of the society and its rules, interpersonal relationships are negotiable constructs much as laws are for the greater population.

It is not difficult, then, to see how the negotiable constructs of polyamorous relationships are naturally at home at the level 5 or 6 end of the moral spectrum. The ethical navigation is done from within, mindful of the individual and social drive for maximum harmony, justice, and happiness. Having said this, however, it must be acknowledged that such an ideal social container is rare, delicate, and maintenance-intensive. Predictably, importing a person who operates from the 'lower' levels of moral development will almost certainly tangle the mobile of a polyamorous arrangement, interfering with factors of trust and communication.

Some fear that a relationship will self-destruct if it is allowed to be open to additional emotional or sexual connection. Maybe it will. A relationship, if opened to these possibilities, needs to base itself in a deeper connection, one that meshes at an unchangeable level, spark-to-spark, where the details of logistics and score-keeping cannot move the foundation. Such a suggestion may sound daunting or fierce, or even somewhat unattached. It is. If the connection is incompatible in its deepest sense, then it will likely fail, whether propped up over weeks or years, monogamous or otherwise. If it is doomed, something better may await.

If the connection is strong, it will be enriched by the combination and learning of new energies. The fierce soul wants to know. This is not a place for fears. This is a place where the lust for life honors the self and other equally, guided by the faith that deeper styles of the soul will find their proper fit and resonate more harmoniously, more playfully, and more indestructibly.

Polyamory can provide the opportunity for self knowledge, deeper expression and strong intimacy. The philosophy and psychology of polyamorous arrangements impose a rigorous honesty with oneself and others, requiring the withdrawal of our own projections and the relinquishment of the concept that another person holds the key to our happiness or we to theirs. We are in relationships to experience joy and resonance within ourselves and to discover it in others.
The author wishes to thank Martin Stensaas for his editorial counsel.
Image by Sunny Strasburg. More of her artwork can be seen at her website, www.sunnystrasburg.com.

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Polyamory: Label or Process? - Reality Sandwich

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What does the label "polyamory" mean? Literally, many loves. And, some would assume, therefore many lovers. In the popular culture, this term conjures up images of wife-swapping, anything-goes kinkiness. Somehow its true meaning has been perjoratively distorted into something resembling "polyfuckery." Asking people what they thought it meant, most snickered and said, "swingers," "sport fucking."

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Polyamory and A Sustainable Life | My Lover Earth

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Polyamory and A Sustainable Life | My Lover Earth

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(3) Monogamy and Polyamory: Measuring satisfaction levels within types of relationships among college men | Tracey Thornton-Griggs - Academia.edu

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(3) Monogamy and Polyamory: Measuring satisfaction levels within types of relationships among college men | Tracey Thornton-Griggs - Academia.edu

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Monogamy and Polyamory: Measuring satisfaction levels within types of relationships among college men

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Monogamy and Polyamory: Measuring satisfaction levels within types of relationships among college men

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Polyamory: We’re Probably More Boring Than You Think | The Optimistic Pluot

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Polyamory: We’re Probably More Boring Than You Think | The Optimistic Pluot

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Polyamory: We're Probably More Boring Than You Think

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I have a blog post for you today that is a little more positive than a few of my other posts! I'm going to talk about one of my favourite things in the world: polyamory. So, I'm polyamorous and have been for a few years now. (Poly = many.

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Plan A: Balancing commitment and flexibility in solo polyamory | SoloPoly

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Plan A: Balancing commitment and flexibility in solo polyamory | SoloPoly

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When people consider what qualifies an intimate relationship as "serious" or "significant," one of the most common themes is "commitment." That sounds so concrete, but it's a surprisingly slippery concept.

What can commitment look like in a relationship that's completely off the relationship escalator? Where partners are not heading toward enmeshing their lives, resources, and identities? Is commitment even necessary for a relationship to feel significant to the people involved? And do commitments always need to be a big deal, or intended to be permanent/indefinite?

There are many ways to do commitment. This is where solo poly relationships get hard for most people to understand.

As a solo poly person, I don't have (and don't want) a primary-style partner. I prefer to maintain substantial flexibility in my life, and I prioritize autonomy. Most of my commitments I have regarding relationships are commitments I've made to myself. I don't generally correlate the significance of my relationships with specific types of commitments. However, I'm also not opposed to making some clear commitments with my partners, when situations warrant. I just try to make sure these commitments meet a real need, and are open to renegotiation and adaptation.

Personally, I prefer to intimate relationships that are deeply emotionally invested and long-term, with lots of room to grow and evolve freely. That usually doesn't just pop out of thin air; it typically requires conscious effort. That's because the very nature of how I structure my relationships stands in stark opposition to most standard hallmarks of "commitment" - exclusivity, marriage, sharing a home/finances, presenting more as a couple than as an individual, etc. Such socially ingrained tokens can be hard for anyone to shake - even people with lots of poly experience.

Currently I'm in only one intimate relationship. It's fairly new, just a few months old. And of course, it's poly. In a short time we've developed a remarkably strong and wonderful mutual bond that appears to have staying power, and we intend to nurture it.

A big change is approaching us, soon. Sometime this summer, after his current work project concludes, my sweetie IO will switch from spending about half his time in my town, to mostly living on his rural mountain property about five hours away. OK, it's not Mars, but this move will make the logistics of our relationship more challenging. Spending time together is important to us both, and so far we've been lucky that it's been pretty easy to arrange.

This week I was feeling some anxiety about IO's upcoming relocation. In the last few years I've moved several times, and almost every time a move has coincided with a breakup.

We've known this change is coming, and we've discussed our mutual intent to keep seeing each other and otherwise connecting after his move. But the "how" of this we deliberately left hazy. We don't know how our lives will evolve, and we treasure our ability to be flexible with each other, and in general. We definitely don't want to control each other. We prefer connecting out of desire and willingness, not obligation and schedule.

I thought this vagueness would work for me; I was surprised when it didn't. My own personal baggage intervened. I've just had too many life experiences where people I cared deeply about dropped out of my life with no explanation or warning. Too often, total vagueness about future plans has prefaced such disappearances.

So yeah, abandonment issues? I have them. Welcome to the human race. Plus I feel shame about fearing abandonment, which makes it hard for me to ask for support. Since I tend to be highly self sufficient, I often chicken out by not asking for support or reassurance when I need it. Consequently, I may run a greater risk of losing relationships I value because I'm too scared or proud to request some structure to our connection when needed, even temporarily.

Last night I screwed together my courage and asked IO if we could collaborate on a "Plan A" for how often we'll aim to visit after he moves. Despite the pressure of my initial anxiety, it was a calm, easy discussion - reminding me of why I so value him.

Plan A: We agreed to try visiting in a pattern that should be comfortable and doable for us both: a long weekend together, approximately monthlyish (every 4-6 weeks). This should give us enough time together to feel like our connection is active and vital, without becoming a problem for either of us (nor, hopefully, for IO's wife Cora, who shares his mountain home). And we'll share, as much as possible, the effort and expense of travel.

These visits, plus our asynchronous online communication, should give IO and me enough connection to feel satisfied with (but not burdened or shortchanged by) our relationship, and give it room to grow and evolve.

We're calling our basic commitment "Plan A" because it's a starting point. We'll try it awhile and see how it works. We'll revisit it and adapt as needed. It's more about navigating a transition than locking down the future.

Having such a moderate but meaningful commitment, something we created together willingly, today has me feeling much calmer about IO's move. And that's the point: creating a little added sense of security when needed.

IO is rather different from me. He generally tends to be less concerned about distance, since he easily feels connected to people even when he's long out of contact with them. Still, he was happy to offer me emotional support through a minor commitment, in a way that's comfortable for him, sufficiently flexible and does not compromise his autonomy. He enjoys contributing to the well being of people he loves. And he really likes seeing me, too.

Plan A will undoubtedly evolve once IO moves. That's ok. Right from the moment we made it, this commitment began serving its purpose of providing me with some emotional security. This shows that a given commitment need not hold the same meaning or value to everyone involved - just that everyone should get some direct benefit from the commitment.

Yes, I know I'm fine no matter what happens with our relationship. I provide my own core stability, which is why I'm good at being solo. This particular commitment is not about avoiding risk in our relationship. Shit can - and will - still happen. Ultimately, Plan A may prove to be more about intent than reality, who knows. But intent matters, too.

We'll see how it works out.

This kind of situational, specific collaborative, near-term commitment works well for me. However, ongoing requirements such as always calling at a certain time, or always having dates on certain days, needing permission to date others, or anything resembling rules that might impinge on anyone's autonomy, would not work for me at all. I'm also personally not much for showy symbolism like big commitment ceremonies - although I do enjoy small, private gestures or tokens to commemorate a shared bond that exists.

That's just my take; your mileage may vary, of course.

If you're solo poly, or in a relationship with a solo poly person, what does commitment look like in your relationships? What form does it take, what purpose does it serve? Why is it meaningful to you? Do your commitments achieve their goals? Have they backfired or fizzled? Does this concept seem irrelevant to your relationships, or do you struggle with it? Please comment below.

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Plan A: Balancing commitment and flexibility in solo polyamory

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When people consider what qualifies an intimate relationship as "serious" or "significant," one of the most common themes is "commitment." That sounds so concrete, but it's a surprisingly slippery concept. What can commitment look like in a relationship that's completely off the relationship escalator? Where partners are not heading toward enmeshing their lives, resources, and...

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The McGill Daily » Rethinking commitment

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The McGill Daily » Rethinking commitment

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I always dreaded having to play the game. Soon after coming out I entered a relationship with the first guy I hooked up with, and when we finally broke up almost two years later I felt lost and helpless in a world of single, gay men I knew nothing about. We attempted making our relationship an open one in the last few months we were together, which in hindsight was just a vain attempt to make a failing relationship work. Although he saw a few other guys, causing surges of jealousy for me in a confusing and turbulent time for both of us, I was always afraid to leave the cocoon of our comfortable yet dysfunctional situation.

Now, months later, despite continued qualms about immersing myself in the dating scene, as a single 20-year-old gay male in a city with a large queer population, I know that this is my time to experiment. I need to see what works for me as I figure out what it is I want from my relationships.

The media obsesses over the ways relationships are changing because our generation tends to communicate using social media and texting. We resist labels and commitment, and have a proclivity for casual hook-ups over serious, committed relationships. For queers, the likelihood of experimenting with polyamory adds to the complexity of the dating scene.

In some ways, I sometimes feel this invisible pressure that as a queer person in this day and age, a successful polyamorous relationship is the rainbow-covered, glittery, golden peak I should be striving for.

Despite having more straight than queer friends, it seems more of my queer friends have experienced, or at least considered, open relationships. It's probably because the essence of queerness implies challenging, avoiding, and questioning traditional gender norms and social relations. I'm sure straight people engage in polyamory as well, but I personally haven't met too many who are into that sort of thing.

In some ways, I sometimes feel this invisible pressure that as a queer person in this day and age, a successful polyamorous relationship is the rainbow-covered, glittery, golden peak I should be striving for. Given the benefits of polyamory, I understand why.

I remember a great conversation with a queer friend who has been in a successful, albeit sometimes challenging, open relationship. We discussed how being able to see other people while still having a committed relationship can mean fulfilling different sexual desires and preferences. Different people can provide you with different pleasures and help you discover different sexual practices and preferences. Polyamory can definitely limit the potential for boredom in a relationship, making things more fun and dynamic.

Being able to see other people while still having a committed relationship can mean fulfilling different sexual desires and preferences.

If you're able to make it work and strike a balance, a successful open relationship can mean a much more interesting and challenging sex life. For a sexual young adult, what could be more attractive than that?

Of course, given the dimensions that seeing other people adds to a relationship, it can mean a lot of hard work and commitment in figuring out what makes you and your partner comfortable. Based on my own experiences, and what I've heard and seen from friends, nothing is more pivotal to an open relationship than communication.

After flirtily texting with one guy for multiple weeks, he told me that he and his boyfriend were trying to be open - yet after enjoying one late night rendezvous together, he stopped answering my texts and I'm inclined to believe they realized polyamory wasn't right for them. It might work for you to tell your partner when you've seen someone else, or it might not. Reevaluating may be a necessity too. Setting boundaries, sticking to them (or altering them if need be), as well as continuing the dialogue, immensely increase the chances that an open relationship will work.

Problems can go beyond jealousy. Figuring out to what extent you and your partner are allowed to see other people can be a tricky thing. What if a couple decided they could hook-up with, but not date, other people? What would be acceptable? Does that limit someone to Grindr hook-ups and one night stands? Are casual beers and coffee dates out of the question? It's tough to say, and relates to the importance of defining terms and boundaries.

Every polyamorous relationship is going to take a different shape and allow for different experiences and understandings of what one wants from their different sexual partners.

It's common to scroll through the plethora of guys on Grindr and see plenty whose status is 'open relationship.' There are also plenty of couples, anywhere from their early 20s to past 50, scanning Grindr for guys to come add a little spark to their relationships that monogamy probably couldn't provide.

Every polyamorous relationship is going to take a different shape and allow for different experiences and understandings of what one wants from their different sexual partners. Open relationships have the potential to challenge concepts and ideas of the differences between sex and love. What are the implications of sustaining loving relationships with more than one person? Emotional attachment to someone besides your primary partner could have serious implications for the relationship. I've found it can be quite difficult to play the role of the mistress too, especially when the motives of your polyamorous love interest are unclear.

Since beginning to overcome my fear of the dating scene, I've had one open relationship that spanned a few months. We established a mutual desire to also see other people early on, and were able to sustain a comfortable, enjoyable, and I'd like to think healthy relationship thereafter. Once it was no longer working, our commitment to 'not being committed' meant the relationship ended more easily than it probably would have otherwise. In this case, establishing openness from the onset allowed us to sidestep commitment.

There are times I want things to be simpler though. Isn't seeing one guy at a time enough? It may be, but resisting experimenting with polyamory will be a tough thing to do, both because of my own prerogative and since so many queers are just doing it anyway.

I'm aware of the potential polyamory has for redefining commitment, allowing for different concepts and forms of sexual expression.

I'm sure some stigma surrounding polyamory will remain, despite changing ideas and concepts of relationships on a more societal level. People are likely to believe open relationships aren't legitimate, assume they can't work, and disregard their potential for success and greater sexual fulfillment. Nevertheless, I'm becoming more comfortable with the fact that as a queer person, the way I interact, hook-up, and go about my relationships will inherently deviate from current and past concepts of the norm.

Despite my current desire to explore, date, hook up, and see what's out there, having known the comfort and stability a committed relationship can provide, I secretly look forward to getting back there. Whether or not polyamory is a part of that equation remains to be seen, but I'm aware of the potential polyamory has for redefining commitment, allowing for different concepts and forms of sexual expression. Overall, I definitely see this as a good thing; considering and embracing polyamory can only mean a wider array of options and opportunities for relationships, and a more interesting pursuit toward understanding what queerness means for the way I date, hook-up, and fuck.

White Noise is a column exploring what it means to identify as gay or queer in McGill and Montreal communities. Eric can be reached at whitenoise@mcgilldaily.com.

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Rethinking commitment | The McGill Daily

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I always dreaded having to play the game. Soon after coming out I entered a relationship with the first guy I hooked up with, and when we finally broke up almost two years later I felt lost and helpless in a world of single, gay men I knew nothing about.

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Plan A: Balancing commitment and flexibility in solo polyamory | SoloPoly

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Plan A: Balancing commitment and flexibility in solo polyamory | SoloPoly

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When people consider what qualifies an intimate relationship as "serious" or "significant," one of the most common themes is "commitment." That sounds so concrete, but it's a surprisingly slippery concept.

What can commitment look like in a relationship that's completely off the relationship escalator? Where partners are not heading toward enmeshing their lives, resources, and identities? Is commitment even necessary for a relationship to feel significant to the people involved? And do commitments always need to be a big deal, or intended to be permanent/indefinite?

There are many ways to do commitment. This is where solo poly relationships get hard for most people to understand.

As a solo poly person, I don't have (and don't want) a primary-style partner. I prefer to maintain substantial flexibility in my life, and I prioritize autonomy. Most of my commitments I have regarding relationships are commitments I've made to myself. I don't generally correlate the significance of my relationships with specific types of commitments. However, I'm also not opposed to making some clear commitments with my partners, when situations warrant. I just try to make sure these commitments meet a real need, and are open to renegotiation and adaptation.

Personally, I prefer to intimate relationships that are deeply emotionally invested and long-term, with lots of room to grow and evolve freely. That usually doesn't just pop out of thin air; it typically requires conscious effort. That's because the very nature of how I structure my relationships stands in stark opposition to most standard hallmarks of "commitment" - exclusivity, marriage, sharing a home/finances, presenting more as a couple than as an individual, etc. Such socially ingrained tokens can be hard for anyone to shake - even people with lots of poly experience.

Currently I'm in only one intimate relationship. It's fairly new, just a few months old. And of course, it's poly. In a short time we've developed a remarkably strong and wonderful mutual bond that appears to have staying power, and we intend to nurture it.

A big change is approaching us, soon. Sometime this summer, after his current work project concludes, my sweetie IO will switch from spending about half his time in my town, to mostly living on his rural mountain property about five hours away. OK, it's not Mars, but this move will make the logistics of our relationship more challenging. Spending time together is important to us both, and so far we've been lucky that it's been pretty easy to arrange.

This week I was feeling some anxiety about IO's upcoming relocation. In the last few years I've moved several times, and almost every time a move has coincided with a breakup.

We've known this change is coming, and we've discussed our mutual intent to keep seeing each other and otherwise connecting after his move. But the "how" of this we deliberately left hazy. We don't know how our lives will evolve, and we treasure our ability to be flexible with each other, and in general. We definitely don't want to control each other. We prefer connecting out of desire and willingness, not obligation and schedule.

I thought this vagueness would work for me; I was surprised when it didn't. My own personal baggage intervened. I've just had too many life experiences where people I cared deeply about dropped out of my life with no explanation or warning. Too often, total vagueness about future plans has prefaced such disappearances.

So yeah, abandonment issues? I have them. Welcome to the human race. Plus I feel shame about fearing abandonment, which makes it hard for me to ask for support. Since I tend to be highly self sufficient, I often chicken out by not asking for support or reassurance when I need it. Consequently, I may run a greater risk of losing relationships I value because I'm too scared or proud to request some structure to our connection when needed, even temporarily.

Last night I screwed together my courage and asked IO if we could collaborate on a "Plan A" for how often we'll aim to visit after he moves. Despite the pressure of my initial anxiety, it was a calm, easy discussion - reminding me of why I so value him.

Plan A: We agreed to try visiting in a pattern that should be comfortable and doable for us both: a long weekend together, approximately monthlyish (every 4-6 weeks). This should give us enough time together to feel like our connection is active and vital, without becoming a problem for either of us (nor, hopefully, for IO's wife Cora, who shares his mountain home). And we'll share, as much as possible, the effort and expense of travel.

These visits, plus our asynchronous online communication, should give IO and me enough connection to feel satisfied with (but not burdened or shortchanged by) our relationship, and give it room to grow and evolve.

We're calling our basic commitment "Plan A" because it's a starting point. We'll try it awhile and see how it works. We'll revisit it and adapt as needed. It's more about navigating a transition than locking down the future.

Having such a moderate but meaningful commitment, something we created together willingly, today has me feeling much calmer about IO's move. And that's the point: creating a little added sense of security when needed.

IO is rather different from me. He generally tends to be less concerned about distance, since he easily feels connected to people even when he's long out of contact with them. Still, he was happy to offer me emotional support through a minor commitment, in a way that's comfortable for him, sufficiently flexible and does not compromise his autonomy. He enjoys contributing to the well being of people he loves. And he really likes seeing me, too.

Plan A will undoubtedly evolve once IO moves. That's ok. Right from the moment we made it, this commitment began serving its purpose of providing me with some emotional security. This shows that a given commitment need not hold the same meaning or value to everyone involved - just that everyone should get some direct benefit from the commitment.

Yes, I know I'm fine no matter what happens with our relationship. I provide my own core stability, which is why I'm good at being solo. This particular commitment is not about avoiding risk in our relationship. Shit can - and will - still happen. Ultimately, Plan A may prove to be more about intent than reality, who knows. But intent matters, too.

We'll see how it works out.

This kind of situational, specific collaborative, near-term commitment works well for me. However, ongoing requirements such as always calling at a certain time, or always having dates on certain days, needing permission to date others, or anything resembling rules that might impinge on anyone's autonomy, would not work for me at all. I'm also personally not much for showy symbolism like big commitment ceremonies - although I do enjoy small, private gestures or tokens to commemorate a shared bond that exists.

That's just my take; your mileage may vary, of course.

If you're solo poly, or in a relationship with a solo poly person, what does commitment look like in your relationships? What form does it take, what purpose does it serve? Why is it meaningful to you? Do your commitments achieve their goals? Have they backfired or fizzled? Does this concept seem irrelevant to your relationships, or do you struggle with it? Please comment below.

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Plan A: Balancing commitment and flexibility in solo polyamory

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When people consider what qualifies an intimate relationship as "serious" or "significant," one of the most common themes is "commitment." That sounds so concrete, but it's a surprisingly slippery concept. What can commitment look like in a relationship that's completely off the relationship escalator? Where partners are not heading toward enmeshing their lives, resources, and...

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What is Commitment: A Polyamorous Perspective

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What is Commitment: A Polyamorous Perspective

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What is Commitment: A Polyamorous Perspective

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What does commitment in a polyamorous relationship look like? The traditional concept of marriage and commitment doesn't seem to be working in our society, where an estimated 40 to 50 percent of marriages end in divorce. People who are polyamorous give a different perspective about commitment, a commitment that does not require being sexually and emotionally exclusive with each other.

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COMMITMENT IN POLYAMORY

By

Elaine Cook

© 2005

This is based on a master's thesis written for Regis University. The complete thesis may be read at www.aphroweb.net.

Chapter 1
INTRODUCTION
Monogamy is the assumed standard for relationships in our culture. A married person who has sex outside the marriage is assumed to be cheating, to be unfaithful. The same standard is applied to anyone in a committed relationship. Yet there are people who have agreed that they will not be sexually exclusive, and who have sex with others with the full consent of their partner. One way of doing this has been called "polyamory" (often shortened within the polyamorous community to "poly").

About Polyamory
Definition
Polyamory has been defined by White (2004, p. 17) as "Living by the principle that it is possible to love more than one person at a time without deception or betrayal". Furthermore, she pointed out that most of the definitions of polyamory found on the Internet "utilize words like ethical, responsible, honorable, open, honest, intentional, and principled" (p 20). This is in contrast to the concept generally held in our culture that having a sexual partner in addition to your spouse is a betrayal. Couples who are polyamorous have made a conscious decision to have other partners while maintaining their connection and commitment to their original partner. This is a mutual agreement, not a betrayal.

Note that definitions for various words and phrases related to polyamory can be found at www.polyamorysociety.org/language.html.
Lack of Research on Polyamory
There has been very little academic research on polyamory. Why is this so? Rubin (2001) hypothesized that "Swinging, group marriages, and communes [and polyamory] may remain on the periphery of study and tolerance because they threaten the cultural image of what marriage is supposed to be" (p. 724). Elisabeth Sheff, who started research for her Ph.D. in sociology in the late 1990s, received some encouragement "because it was an area that had not been developed yet and it is good to be a groundbreaker," but also discouragement, because it is a "freaky" topic and she could be marginalized because of the topic (personal communication, January 19, 2005).

Many social scientists support the "questioning mindset," the idea that "there is nothing that should not be doubted. Everything must be unceasingly examined" (Lofland and Lofland, 1995, p. 154). In spite of this, even an eminent psychologist like Albert Ellis (2003), who was writing about sex even before Kinsey, has had his writings that question our society's attitudes towards sexuality censored, modified without his permission, and omitted from compilations of symposia at which he presented.

Who therefore will take the risk of researching some part of this topic of polyamory which questions the cultural standard for sexual behavior? People who have a personal interest in the subject (e.g. Barker, 2005; Sheff, 2004; Wolfe, 2003).
Questioning Monogamy
Most people do not think about monogamy. It is simply a given. The main issue for therapists around monogamy is dealing with its failure, i.e. infidelity. The question of whether or not monogamy is a choice that people want to make is not generally discussed. Some people, however, have thought about it, they have questioned it, they have discussed it with their partner, and have chosen to live life a different way.

Our society has used laws and social pressure to encourage married couples to stay together in spite of their differences, but this clearly has not been working very well in recent years. What else besides legal sanctions provides the glue that keeps marriages together? In a discussion of cohesion in multilateral (group) marriages, Constantine and Constantine (1974) noted the need for a mechanism to encourage internal problem-solving rather than allowing needs to be satisfied externally. They commented, "The fidelity ethic in a monogamous marriage serves as such a mechanism to keep the husband and wife solving problems in their relationship. Compartmentalization of sex as an isolated modality [as in swinging] is another such mechanism" (p. 286).

About This Study

The focus of this study was on what provides this cohesion for long term polyamorous couples. What is the nature of the commitment (as they conceptualize it) that keeps them together, when they have the opportunity to follow what could seem to be an easier path of moving on to someone else with whom they have not yet developed serious problems? Interviews were used to uncover what the respondents consider to be helpful to them in maintaining their commitment to their partner. The interview questions were designed to elicit the nature of the relationships between the primary partners as well as their other lovers, and the perceived benefits of polyamory. There was a focus on the respondents' thoughts about how they maintain a strong bond with their primary partner.
Study of Successful Relationships
This study on commitment was not intended to be representative of typical involvement in polyamory, simply an examination of what has worked to allow these couples to stay together in fulfilling relationships while following a path that is considered deviant in our culture. The study was about what the participants said works for them. It did not address the issue of deviance directly, nor look at the problems faced by people who have not been successful in this lifestyle.

Membership in the Poly Community

As an opportunistic complete member (Adler and Adler, 1987) of the poly subculture (this means that I studied a group of which I was already fully a member), along with my husband, Zhahai Stewart, I not only take part in the community but also work to help shape it. Among other things, we have both written articles for Loving More, a magazine for people who are exploring the option of loving more than one person ([I write as Spring Cascade] Cascade, 1996, 2000, 2001a, 2001b, 2002; Cascade and Stewart, 1998; Stewart, 1995, 2000, 2001a, 2001b), and presented at their conferences.
Appropriateness of Opportunistic Studies
Is it appropriate for someone who is involved in a community to study it? Lofland and Lofland have "counseled involvement and enmeshment rather than objectivity and distance - a counsel that is very much in keeping with the fieldwork tradition" and noted, "So-called objectivity and distance vis-à-vis the field setting will usually result in a failure to collect any data worth analyzing." (Lofland and Lofland, 1995, p. 17). Adler and Adler stated their belief that "the native experience does not destroy but, rather, enhances the data-gathering process. Data gathering does not occur only through the detached observational role, but through the subjectively immersed role as well" (Adler and Adler, 1987, p. 84). Berg acknowledged that "The use of personal biography or deep familiarity with a subject has become more common and accepted by ethnographers" (Berg, 2004, p. 156), and that some researchers now encourage self-reflective or auto-ethnographies.

Ethical Considerations

There is definitely a potential danger to people who are polyamorous if this fact should become known to the wrong people. There is a danger of losing one's job or having Child Protective Services take one's child away, at least temporarily. Confidentiality is therefore particularly important, and has been strictly maintained. Pseudonyms have obviously been used in writing about the participants.

One reason for having separate interviews was to allow someone to reveal information that could potentially be too sensitive to discuss in front of the partner, because it would cause the partner pain or embarrassment, such as a sexual preference for a different lover. Care has been taken to avoid writing about such information in a way that could be identified, in case some participants or other members of the community choose to read the thesis. This means that potentially sensitive information was not linked to a name that the partner (or anyone else) may be able to identify because of other characteristics such as age or profession.
Go to Chapter 2

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By Elaine Cook © 2005 This is based on a master's thesis written for Regis University. The complete thesis may be read at www.aphroweb.net. INTRODUCTION Monogamy is the assumed standard for relationships in our culture. A married person who has sex outside the marriage is assumed to be cheating, to be unfaithful.

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Polyamory without rules? Isn't that anarchy and chaos? - More Than Two

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Polyamory without rules? Isn't that anarchy and chaos? - More Than Two

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I generally am not a fan of rules-based relationships, particularly in polyamory. I have found, throughout all of my relationships, that they tend to work best when not governed by a codex of regulations that would make a bureaucrat blush.

Often, when I say that, folks will look at me as though I've sprouted an extra head. "How can you have a relationship without rules?" I've been asked by poly folks. "I mean, sure, that's all well and good if you just want anarchy, with people running around doing whatever they want with no commitment, but you can't build real relationships that way!"

Which is a bit of a head-scratcher to me, because it sounds quite a lot like a monogamous person telling a poly person, "How can you have a relationship without monogamy? I mean, sure, that's all well and good if you just want anarchy, with people running around shagging whoever they want with no commitment, but you can't build real relationships that way!"

It's a normal human thing, I suppose, to see the world in polar terms: if there is no monogamy, then that means promiscuity and indiscriminate shagging; if there are no rules, then that means anarchy and chaos. But that isn't really the case.

What do you mean, that isn't really the case? Rules are how we set out boundaries. Without rules, there's nothing to keep people from stomping all over us!

I tend to see a big difference between "rules" and "boundaries." To me, a rule is something that a person imposes on another. "I forbid you to have unbarriered sex with any other person" is a common example. It is a statement of intent to assert control over the actions of another.

Boundaries are things we put on ourselves. "In order to protect my sexual health, I reserve the right to discontinue having sexual intercourse with you if you have unbarriered sex with any other person" is an example.

They might have the same outcome, but they're very different in philosophy. To me, the key difference is the locus of control. With rules, I am assuming control over you. I am telling you what you must do or setting out what you are forbidden to do. With boundaries, I outline the way your choices affect me, without presuming to make those choices for you, and let you make your choice accordingly.

But without rules, how can I make sure that my partner will do what I need him to do in order to feel safe?

With or without rules, you can't. People can always make their own choices. Rules, as anyone who's ever been cheated on knows, are only as good as a person's willingness to follow them, which means rules are only as good as the intent of the person on whom they're imposed.

If a person loves you and cherishes you, and wants to do right by you, then it's not necessary to say "I forbid you to do thus-and-such" or "I require you to do thus-and-such." All you really need to do is communicate what you need to feel taken care of, and your partner will choose to do things that take care of you, without being compelled to.

On the other hand, if your partner doesn't love and cherish you, and doesn't want to do right by you...well, no rule will save you. The rules might give you an illusion of safety, but they won't really protect you.

So what? Isn't it enough that a rule makes me feel better? What's wrong with that?

There is, I think, a hidden cost to rules, which doesn't often get discussed in the poly community: the effect those rules have on other people.

Often, people in polyamorous relationships-especially people just starting in polyamory-seem to embrace the idea that whatever happens, as long as the original couple survives, the relationship is being successful. Regardless of its effect on anyone else who may be romantically involved with one or both of the original couples. Because of that, the rules tend to be created only between the original couple, with little or no input from anyone else, and more imprtantly, little or no thought to the impact of those rules on others. The viewpoint of any third parties is rarely considered.

Because of that, there's seldom an acknowledgement that any rule that forbids person A from doing X is potentially a rule that deprives newcomer C from activity X. You see this most strongly in rules such as "I forbid you to have sex with any new partner in the Monkey with Lotus Blossom and Chainsaw position, because that's my favorite position" or "I forbid you to go to Clayton's House of Clams with any other date, because that's the restaurant where we had our first date" or "I forbid you to sleep over at a partner's house because I never want to have to give up sleeping beside you."

Each of these is made without any thought to what it costs a third person-what if a new person happens to be quite fond of the Monkey with Lotus Blossom and Chainsaw position, or Clayton's House of Clams? Why should the new person always be forced to give up sleeping with a partner simply because person A never will?

Because that's the way it is! Why should some new person be allowed to trump my needs and stomp all over me? Why shouldn't a new person respect my needs?

Ah. And there we get down to the heart of the matter.

People pass rules because they feel that those rules are necessary in order to meet their needs. Rules don't get passed at random; I have yet to meet a person who makes up rules by rolling dice or drawing words out of a hat.

Whenever someone proposes a rule, I make it a habit to ask myself three questions:

1. What is the purpose of this rule? 2. Does the rule serve the purpose it is intended to serve? 3. Is this rule the only way to serve this purpose?

I can't overstate enough how valuable it is to think about this.

Often, in my experience, people use rules as indirect, passive ways to try to get their needs met. Instead of clearly articulating the need, such as "I have a need to feel special and valued by you," they will think of something that makes them feel special and valued, and then pass a rule to say "I require you to do this thing" or "I forbid you to do this thing with others." We in the poly community often talk about "communicate, communicate, communicate," but to me, communication requires the willing to discuss difficult issues, such as the direct needs that we have, rather than just second-order issues, like "Forbidding you to do this is important to me."

Let's take a non-hypothetical example of a rule that I've seen some poly folks do: "I forbid you to take any date to Clayton's House of Clams." And let's look at it within the context of these three questions.

1. What is the purpose of this rule?

If Alice tells Bob "I forbid you to go to Clayton's House of Clams with anyone else," what is she actually saying? It could be "I feel like my value to you depends on exclusivity." It might be "I am afraid that if you do the same things with someone else that you do with me, you won't need me anymore and you will abandon me." Chances are pretty good, though, that Alice, in making this rule, is feeling so overwhelmed by her fear that her needs aren't being met, she hasn't spared any thought at all for Cindy, who she's now denying the Clayton's clam experience to.

2. Does the rule serve the purpose?

If Alice is right, if Bob doesn't truly value her and there's nothing special about her, then forbidding Bob to go to Clayton's House of Clams with his date won't actually ensure that Bob doesn't abandon her. If Cindy turns out to be "better" (whatever that means) than Alice, then Bob's gone, clams or no clams. If Bob genuinely DOESN'T see value in Alice, the relationship is doomed and no rule will save it. By saying "I forbid you to go to Clayton's House of Clams," Alice is-at best-buying herself a false sense of security that is masking her underlying fear of abandonment, preventing her from confronting it directly.

3. Is this rule the only way to serve this purpose?

If Alice is actually afraid that Bob doesn't value her and will abandon her if he does the same things with a new date that he does with her, then it seems to me that Alice is actually better served by confronting that fear directly, and asking directly for Bob's help in feeling valued. There might be a lot of ways that can happen...by spending more quality time with Alice for instance, or by letting Alice know how he values her, by setting aside "date nights" with Alice, all sorts of things. The underlying need actually has nothing to do with clams at all.

So what? I was here first. Why shouldn't a new person respect my rules, even if there are other ways to do things?

"Respect" is a slippery, tricky word. It's kind of like "freedom"-everyone thinks they know what it means, but when the rubber meets the road, few folks actually agree on a definition.

To me, respect has to be mutual. If Alice is demanding respect from Bob's new sweetie Cindy, that can only come if Alice in turn respects the notion that Cindy is a grown adult with her own needs and desires, and she, too, deserves a shot at having a voice in the relationship. Imposing rules by fiat on other people and then demanding respect from those people is all the rage (I hear) among leaders of North Korea, but can feel a bit yucky when we're talking romantic relationships.

But more pragmatically, because I try to be pragmatic, setting up a situation in which one person imposes rules that another person is expected to follow is often a setup for failure. At best, it leads to rules-lawyering: "Well, we didn't actually eat AT Clayton's House of Clams, we ordered our clams to go and then ate out on the lanai!"

At worst, it sets up a relationship with a certain amount of tension and conflict baked in. If you see your partner's other partner as a source of stress, if you set up rules to govern that other person's behavior, then already you've started out on a basis of conflict-because you've created an environment where if you want the newcomer never to eat at Clayton's with your sweetie and the newcomer's desire is to get down with those tasty, tasty clams on a date with your sweetie, there's an irreconcilable difference there. Someone's desire is going to get trumped, and you're playing the "respect" card to try to make sure it's not yours.

By talking directly to needs rather than rules-"I need to feel valued and special by you"-we create a framework where competition is less likely. If it's about feeling valued and unique, and it's not actually about the clams at all, leave the poor clams out of it!

Now, some cases are more clear-cut than others. Rules around safe sex practices are extremely common in poly relationships; in fact, I'll warrant that exceptions are pretty thin on the ground.

But even there, it pays to be careful. Open communication is important, because sometimes, even seemingly clear-cut rules with reasonable, necessary purposes can mask deeper things.

For example, let's look at the rule "No unprotected sex with other partners."

1. What is the purpose of this rule?

If Alice tells Bob "I don't want you to have unprotected sex with anyone else," most likely there's a pretty good reason for it. The purpose of this rule is plain on the face of it: to protect Alice's sexual health, as well as the health of everyone Alice is involved with.

2. Does the rule serve the purpose?

Yes. The data on disease transmission and barriers is unambiguous.

3. Is this rule the only way to serve this purpose?

Oh, boy. Now we get into a pickle.

There are other ways that this goal can be achieved. For example, a policy of STD testing prior to having unprotected sex with someone, combined with a policy of not engaging in unprotected sex with folks who don't do prior testing, is an effective one. Sexual health is not an issue if the people involved have no STDs to begin with; they don't spontaneously appear out of thin air.

But sometimes, folks may insist on barriers not entirely because of STD concerns, but also out of a feeling that it's a mark of exclusivity, or because they feel more special if they are the only fluid-bonded partner. And sometimes, concerns about STDs can be a cover that masks those feelings. (This isn't a hypothetical example, by the way. It's actually happened in my romantic network.)

It takes a lot of courage to admit things like this. Talking openly about what's really going on below the surface is scary, and hard, and involves making ourselves vulnerable.

If I negotiate rules with my partner, a newcomer has the choice about either accepting those rules or walking away, so where's the harm?

Personally, I've always found that argument to be particularly and especially cruel.

At the start of a relationship, it's almost impossible to predict in advance how far it will go or what it will look like. It's easy to agree to rules before your heart is on the line and then find, later, after you've fallen in love, that you're hooked-the rules become burdensome, but you're committed to the relationship and can't leave without a great deal of heartache.

At best, it's unintended cruelty on Alice and Bob's part, perhaps, but it's still cruel. At worst, it's a deliberate and conscious spelling out to Cindy, "You are expendable. Here is a list, which you have no input about, of the situations and circumstances under which we will dispose of you." Either way, Alice and Bob will often end up using this argument as a way of making themselves feel better about hurting Cindy by saying "Well, she knew up front what she was getting into!"

I will admit that the prospect of talking openly about our needs, even when it's difficult to do, and using communication in place of rules sounds really scary. We poly folks talk all the time about how important communication is. It's even more important that we actually do it. Even when it's hard. Especially when it's hard.

Rules feel comforting. Alas, that feeling is often an illusion. Sometimes, letting go of the notion that rules are important is a way to build relationships with a strong foundation of trust and communication, as scary as it sounds to do that.

Last updated: October 26, 2013

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Polyamory without rules? Isn't that anarchy and chaos? - More Than Two

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I generally am not a fan of rules-based relationships, particularly in polyamory. I have found, throughout all of my relationships, that they tend to work best when not governed by a codex of regulations that would make a bureaucrat blush. Often, when I say that, folks will look at me as though I've sprouted an extra head.