The Double Triple Life

I’ve been wondering what kind of person it takes to lead a truly polyamorous lifestyle. And by that I don’t mean a mostly heteronormative couple that every once in a while accepts a third partner – or another couple – into their bed. I am talking instead about having lovers – multiple lovers, who themselves have multiple lovers – or living in a communal arrangement, even as small as a threesome. On one hand, it seems like most people’s ultimate fantasy – in the time when fear of commitment has become the norm, and most of us don’t want to close ourselves to the numerous choices and options that may become available in the future, this is a way to ensure that we never get bored, never have to settle down. On the other hand, though, there is the reality of such an arrangement and all the emotional responsibility that it carries.

I suppose there are those who manage to get away with staying fuck-buddies with their multiple partners and not really feeling jealousy towards their other arrangements, as well as having the confidence to believe that those buddies will always be there when they are needed, without much upkeep or maintenance of those relationships. There are people who feel this way about friendships, and so, I suppose, in sex they act the same. But what if one is looking for a deeper, more permanent connection than that, a chance to really get to know the people that they sleep with, to form a bond that would be more than an every-once-in-a-while escape from the monotony of life? What if one wants to have someone they could count on when they are in a pickle, and also, perhaps, share some of those tasks of life that require a longer commitment – like living together, or raising kids, or taking care of each other’s pets? Is that still possible in a non-monogamous relationship? And if it is, what is the price? This kind of arrangement can’t be careless, “let’s see how it goes and split when it doesn’t” one – there are legal issues involved, and more importantly, other people who didn’t get to choose this lifestyle (like the children who are born into it). So that means commitment, a very serious one, to stick together through thick and thin for a lengthy period of time – even if not living together, then at least working with each other in a peaceful and reliable manner. But then, in a polyamorous relationship, how many people can one possibly make this commitment to? Without even taking it that far, how many people can we be accountable to, even for minor things, emotionally responsive and decent to? In an economy of a human life, that cannot exceed 24 hour days and a certain limit of energy, how much can we actually give? 

There is time that you have to spend together – or at least communicating with each other – for any relationship to continue without the partners losing touch with each other’s real selves (as opposed to the illusions we have of each other when we are not together, ones that may eventually have no basis in reality and lead to us questioning in dismay: who are you?). Then there is occasional help and care that you have to provide if you ever expect to be cared for and helped when you are in need. There are reassurances that we all need sometimes. There are nights when we don’t want to be alone. There are events which are more fun when attended together (kink parties, movie viewings, museum trips) – or at least more bearable with a partner (weddings, office parties, funerals). And then there is down time, time we need for ourselves, to do our work, to reflect, to think – or just empty our minds and take a break from constantly thinking about everyone else. All of this is hard to fit into a day even if you have just one other person to keep in mind – in addition to the rest of life, of course: work, chores, children, friends. Can it all really be done with multiple partners? And if so, what a carefully arranged and balanced hierarchy it needs to be….. 

I was thinking, too, how easily an arrangement like this can lead to schizophrenia or split-personality disorders. If every person you are with brings out a different side of you, an intimate relationship will do so to an even higher degree. The power dynamics will be different. The things you do (or want to do) with every partner will be different. In kinky relationships, I imagine it would be even more pronounced – as your lovers will have different kinks (or at least, prioritize them differently), the fantasies that you act out will put you in completely different roles. And those roles, in turn, will influence your identity – what you perceive yourself to be. While I am all for dropping the rigidity with which we define our identity, how fluid can it really be before we lose ourselves completely?