A friend linked me to this article posted today on CNN.com. I read it. It’s not terrible. It’s not great. It’s typical pseudo-news, skimming the surface of a complex issue and designed specifically to provoke extreme reactions. It irritates me that this multi-faceted issue that affects my life so strongly is clearly being used as an attention grab by CNN. You can see that in the comments, which range from the usual “HEATHENS OMG WTF WHAT ABOUT THE CHILLLLDREEENNNN??” to (a few) thoughtful remarks on the nature of monogamy and whether it’s a sustainable social construct.

After reading each of the comments (OK, I admit it, I skipped over the worst of the fundie doggerel) I’m left with the thought that I’m not really doing or feeling anything much different than the majority of mono people out there. I have relationships outside my marriage. Whoop de do. So do more than 50% of mono people. The difference?

I’m honest about it.

My husband and I refuse to embrace the self-flagellating dogma that you can only have an affair if you feel really, really bad about it afterwards. We refuse to allow the societal expectation that loving more than one person at a time is wrong to destroy the beautiful thing that is our marriage. And despite what some people have intimated, our marriage is not diminished by this. It’s nurtured by our ability to accept one other. Our marriage is as strong as it is precisely because we freely admit that neither of us can be each other’s everything all of the time, nor do we want to.

The media will persist in using fluffy human-interest stories about polyamory to rile up their subscribers and drive people to their content. Therefore, those of us who practice must fearlessly persist in telling the truth from our point of view as well.

I understand that polyamory isn’t for everyone. In fact, I understand it isn’t for most people. I get that people are going to be uncomfortable with the way I live my life at times. I have no control over the attitudes and opinions that people form when they find out who and what I am. That said, I’m not going to put myself in the closet because it makes people uncomfortable.

Recently I had what I’ve come to know is an unfortunately common experience. Guy A finds out I’m poly. Guy A therefore assumes that any contact initiated by me is a come-on because you know…poly girls will do anyone. *snort* Guy A can’t handle this and acts like a doofus every time I’m around him. It’s gone from mildly amusing to making me seethe. I came very close to telling him off the other night and I thought maybe it would be instructive to do so here.

Dear You Know Who You Are:

You seem to lack a fundamental understanding of what it means to be polyamorous. Allow me to educate you. It does not mean that I will sleep with anyone possessing the proper equipment. That is called being a slut, which I am most certainly not. I liked you, made an offer intended to allow me to get to know you better and I was turned down. No big deal. Being polyamorous also doesn’t mean that I don’t have discernment. From your reaction to a one-time, simple overture, I quickly discovered that you could never be my type and I let it drop. So I don’t really see your continuing discomfort as my problem.

What has become my problem is that you won’t let this go. Move on, already. Accept the fact that I challenge your boundaries and leave it at that. But please, don’t act as though you are doing me a favor by speaking to me. I let the matter drop months ago and you continue to be challenged by a non-existent situation. You are not all that and a bag of chips as you seem to think. Unlike some of the women with whom you surround yourself, I’m not going to fawn all over you and tell you what you want to hear just so I can be in the glorious light of your presence. In short, you sir, need to grow the hell up.

Furthermore, if you’re going to make judgments about me based on gossip, misinformation and outright lies by people who are acting out of simple jealousy, you are not a person I care to know in any way. Polyamory is based wholly on honesty and open communication. Because of that, I have extremely limited patience with games and drama of the sort that you attempt to pull every time I see you. So once again, I am going to attempt what I’ve done the past few months and let this go. I really hope you can do the same, because it’s getting old.

Any questions? Feel free to ask.

With extreme annoyance, Leah.

The advent of social networking has brought people closer together, there’s no doubt about that. But sometimes, it brings people too close for comfort and the question arises, how do you distance without drama? A personal note? A simple de-friend or unfollow with no explanation? What’s the new etiquette?

I think I’ve learned the answer the hard way this last week both by clumsily unfollowing several people on Twitter and being de-friended on Facebook by someone different. I’ve experienced it from both sides, so to speak.

People view their social networking personas as an extension of themselves. To be de-friended or unfollowed can feel like a very personal rejection. Distancing or severing social networking ties requires a delicate touch if you wish to retain the friendship behind the screen. Sometimes, a person is so attached to their social networking persona that it’s not possible to separate one from the other. I might be able to see that someone has de-friended me, scratch my head for a moment and move on. Other people are going to be far more upset. It’s the nature of people.

I’ve come to the conclusion that the only acceptable etiquette is no etiquette at all. You just do it. Click the button and walk away. Don’t bother trying to cushion the blow or explain yourself because there’s nothing you can say that doesn’t amount to, “I don’t want to read what you’re putting out there.” If someone’s going to be hurt by that, they’re going to be hurt and you can’t stop it.

Should the person ask for an explanation, don’t provide one. Instead, say this: “It was a personal decision. You can still get in touch with me via (Facebook, email, telephone, whatever),” and leave it at that. Otherwise you risk getting drawn into a protracted social networking drama war with all it’s attendant idiocy and really, no one wants that.

Life. Learning the lessons and passing them on. That’s all it’s really about.

It seems to me that the more loudly a person espouses a particular philosophy of life, the more pressure they’re going to be under to live up to their own credo. This applies not only to the treatment they *accept* from others, but to the treatment they *bestow* upon others. This is why I choose not to have a grand, sweeping, one size fits all philosophy. I try to take things as they come, judge them individually and react accordingly as the situation demands.

I also don’t believe in asking the universe or a higher power to manifest anything in my life. I prefer to ask the powers for guidance on how to manifest those things for myself. A fine distinction, I realize, but one that’s important to me because then if things go wrong I only have myself to blame. I have come to believe that it is only in looking inward, rather than casting outward, that true change can be manifested.

The threefold law, karma, etc. seem to me to involve some sort of expectation. “If I do this, I will get this…” I don’t believe that. I believe it’s incumbent upon each individual to act as their conscience directs and most importantly, accept, internalize and learn from the consequences of their actions. For me, that means striving to treat every individual with decency and respect, offering amends when I fail, speaking the truth both internally and to others, and most importantly, attempting to refrain from expecting the same behavior from others as my values may not be theirs.

Life is all about the journey. About the trying, the striving, the changing and the growing. I can be perfect when I’m dead.

That’s my two cents. As always, I respect that others may walk a path more suitable for them.

Over the years, I’ve heard a lot of metaphors for polyamory that are used to explain things to monogamous folks. One is that love is not a pizza. It’s not shared out into finite slices that are consumed and gone. The other is that you can have multiple children and still love them all. I think I’ve come up with another one.

Anyone who has ever been in a successful relationship with someone who has a passion for what they do understands polyamory, though they may not realize it. Artists, musicians, politicians, activists and actors immediately come to mind, but it could be any profession (or even hobby) that a person is deeply committed to doing. It’s so deeply entrenched in who they are that they would be a lesser person without it.

Being in a healthy relationship with such a person requires the acceptance that the passion will always share space with the relationship. Hopefully it will be on an equal footing most of the time. But likely there will be ebbs and flows, immersions and coming up for air. It requires being secure in the knowledge that the passion does not detract from the relationship, but stands alongside it sharing resources and time.

Another familiar adage in the poly world is that while love is infinite, time and resources are not. In the same way that some monogamous couples balance their personal relationship against the passion of one or both the partners, poly people do the same. Only for us, it’s balancing between partners.

So next time you catch yourself saying, “I just can’t understand polyamory,” take a moment and imagine that the 4lb smallmouth your husband plotted to catch all winter is actually a woman. What compromises did you make to help him acheive his goal? How far were you willing to bend to accomodate his needs while ensuring your own were being met? Could you really ask him to stop fishing forever to be with you, knowing that would kill part of his spirit?

If you can imagine that, you know what it’s like to practice polyamory.

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately on cliques. You’d think a person wouldn’t have to think about this beyond high school, but I suppose it’s the nature of people to form tight-knit groups. The thing is, what makes a clique different from a close group of friends? I think the answer boils down to inclusion and acceptance.

When I moved to the Midwest in 2006, it took me awhile to find friends. I had some bad experiences, failed attempts, and false starts but eventually ended up with a circle of close friends that I mesh with like nobody’s business. Oddly, many of the folks in this group have known one another for years, some since high school.

Despite that, they’ve warmly welcomed several new people, including me, into their circle. I’ve noticed that each new person is accepted as their unique and authentic self and valued for what they bring to the group. There’s not really a hierarchy or pecking order. (I realize this might be a rare thing, but it is certainly a beautiful one, and much appreciated by me.)

So what makes a clique different? I think cliques are all about exclusion. Or at the least, acceptance with strings attached. Uniqueness is not something that’s appreciated in a clique. To join, you must accept the identity and labels they impose upon you rather than be accepted as an individual.

Deviate from that strict, often unspoken, social contract, and you run the risk of being summarily kicked out of the group. This can happen directly by shunning or snubbing or by more insidious methods like gossip, backbiting and drama until the person just gets fed up and leaves.

In a clique, there’s a distinct sense of “group identity.” There are rules, spoken and unspoken, and generally a leader of some kind who wields the power of ultimate acceptance. There is often little room for partial participation. Either you’re in or you’re out. There is also often a sense of moral, physical or mental superiority; the group perceives they are better or more important than others.

But most importantly, there’s a social contract with a clique. To join, you must accept the identity and labels they impose upon you rather than be accepted for the uniqueness only you can bring. Whether that’s worth it probably depends on an individual’s personality. Not everyone is as anti-authority and libertarian as I am.

Part two of this essay will discuss the flip side. Are people wrongly accused of being a clique simply because of jealousy or insecurity? Are the rules of a clique necessarily wrong, or are they just a different social construct of friendship?

“P” for polyamory. For the unfamiliar, that means being open to loving relationships with more than one person at a time. At least that’s my definition. Here’s a list of things it does not mean.

• It does not mean I am indiscriminate or slutty. See *loving* relationships above. I’m sex-positive and enjoy the act, but I’m not going to do you just because you’re breathing and willing.
• It does not mean I will automatically sleep with you and your partner. Because romantic chemistry is just so easy to establish between two people, let alone three…*eyeroll*
• It does not mean my husband is not meeting my needs. We get on just fine, thanks. He never leaves the toilet seat up and has great taste in women.
• It does not mean cheating, adultery or infidelity. “You’re POLY?? Does your *husband* know??” Yes. Thanks for asking.
• It does not mean I will sleep with you behind anyone’s back. Got a partner? Expect me to ask for their phone number before you get any.

Sometimes I get tired of explaining these things. But then I realize that when you live a lifestyle practiced by less than 1% of the people in the country, you kind of have to if you’re going to get what you want. The awkwardness of it just weighs on me sometimes.

You meet someone you’re interested in and you have to figure out when to have “the conversation.” Too early and it looks like you’re desperate. Too late and it’s a shock, “By the way…I’ve been married for six years.” That’s a great way to shrivel up the parts, if you know what I’m saying.

Got questions? I’m more than happy to answer.