When we started our non-monogamous journey back in 2014, we were blissfully unaware of the gatekeeping and blanket rules that can show up in this space. We didn’t know that there was an unspoken polyamorous rule book and instead we freely chose to believe that it was good to listen to the enthusiasm within ourselves, one another and those with whom we were connecting with.
After almost a year of playfully discussing our desires, fears and curiosities, we were thrilled (and surprised) when a colleague of mine approached us asking if we wanted to connect further. She was beautiful, vibrant and had experience in this world. Even though we were work friends, we were not particularly close and she had recently accepted a job elsewhere.
This all appealed to me in case things became awkward... Threesomes with work colleagues is usually on the list of ‘what NOT to do when you want to have a threesome’. Yet in this case it felt safe, playful and positive, with little opportunity for a friendship or workplace fallout.
I remember so vividly her lips against mine as she pushed me up against the bathroom wall of a dive bar in the lower east side. As she whispered her desires for my fiancé and I, I felt the significance of our relationship shift into a more liberated space.
Surrendering to her pleasure as she expressed her longing for us felt truly decadent.
We fell prey to this seductive huntress... willing and thankful.
As a couple we were exploring the beauty of sexual pleasure and connection with another. It didn’t mean that what we had built was about to unravel. It didn’t mean the path to marriage was a mirage. If anything, it just solidified our decision to move through the world together as true life partners. We didn’t have to suppress any parts of ourselves. The penny dropped as I realised that we could explore a newfound erotic connection which could exist alongside all that we were building together as a couple.
It was on this spring night in Brooklyn that I realised connection is infinite. That this was one way to hack the paradox of desire and novelty in long term, committed relationships.
Even though our time with her was brief, she had an impact on us with her playful free abandon along with her communicative care for our boundaries and her own. She was a busy single mum with a full life. She wasn’t looking to become our ‘third’, and at that time in our life, that was not a relationship dynamic that we had any knowledge or capacity for.
Sexual exploration was a ‘hell yes!’ Emotional tethering to new partners was a hard ‘No’.
Yet, our different lives complimented our connection with her. Our different life stories made us incredibly compatible. Her desire for freedom and autonomy meant that she could float in and out of our lives when we were all in alignment. She was a dream who connected with us, yet didn’t look for that which we could not offer.
We were simply three consenting adults who were finding balance with our newfound connection.
When I think about the shade that can be cast onto polyamorous couples who do prioritise their primary relationship, I also think about myself in many ways. I am married and I do prioritise my family unit. Yet, when I date someone else, I always emotionally position myself as their secondary partner, whether they have partners or not. Even if they were dating me for longer, I never aim to be their primary, because there is only so much of myself that I can give. Being a secondary partner to my other partners suits me well.
This isn’t saying that my connections with others are short lived. I could date someone for years, perhaps even indefinitely alongside my marriage. Even if we are not actively dating, I am still in open communication with 90% of the people who I have dated. This doesn’t mean that I have a desire to do all of the things that a regular girlfriend or partner does. Sure, we can spend some extended time together, or go to dinner and the movies, or see one another weekly, but I’m not rushing to meet their mum.
I am not interested in living out the relationship milestones in the way that I have with my husband.
I don’t like shade being thrown at people who have secondary partners, because for me, the secondary aspect of dating in this space really appeals and is applicable to me. Being a secondary takes the heat off me as a partner. Does this mean that love doesn’t exist? No, of course not, it simply means that I’m not tying myself to someone in the way that Liam and I are folded into one another.
There have been times in the past when other partners of mine have said that they prioritise their connection with me over new connections. Whilst this was meant as a compliment, I have gently reminded them that their desire to prioritise me is simply their desire and is not a role that I feel comfortable stepping into.
As relationships grow and deepen, what we expect from our partner can change and shift. Someone’s deepening feelings for me do not equate to me extending myself beyond what I feel comfortable giving. If a partner of mine wants to have children, I will not be the person to show up in that role for them. I can instead share my birth story and wisdom gleaned from this experience with them or their partners.
I am at peace with being a solid secondary. I prefer for newfound connections to exist in pleasure, intimate friendship and desire. Love can and does exist but this type of love story looks different to the love that I have with my husband.
Magic can live in the space that exists when we do not over familiarise ourselves with one another.
It is often the desire to know more about a person without being halted by the practicalities of life, that can keep the passion burning.
Secondary partnerships can be deep and erotic. Playful and fun. Heartfelt and caring.
There is eroticism to be had in connections that are not overly domesticated and familiarised.
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Photo taken of me by my husband in Rural Australia (2023)
I love this...I think it’s so important to discover what we’re wanting and needing with non-monogamy, and to be able to clearly define & express that, rather than trying to fit into what we think we should be doing (or even what others want from us).
I feel this. As someone who identifies as “solo-poly”, I have struggled at times with dating other poly people who wanted someone to be their “primary” partner, but have found it much easier and smoother dating other solo-poly people or people who already have another deeply connected relationship.
In my experience, a lot of people want to talk about “hierarchical vs non-hierarchical” structures of poly as if they’re black and white, but I feel like there’s a lot of room for a spectrum between those.
There’s a difference to me between ‘hierarchy’ and ‘priority’.
I wouldn’t personally use terms like ‘primary’ or ‘secondary’ (though I have no issue being called the latter if that’s the reality and I’m okay with it), but I do think it’s kind of silly not to ‘prioritise’ certain relationships in certain contexts.
Otherwise you risk always moving from one shiny NRE experience to the next with a series of hurt people in your rear view mirror.