I Am A Nightmare

Oct 28, 2025

Photo of me taken by my husband, Liam (Oct’ 2025)

One of the reasons I can’t be polyamorous is because I’m an absolute nightmare.

I go through periods of social pause. Of dropping off. Of not replying to messages and closing myself off to friends and lovers. Not from a deliberate place, but from a desire to go inward. I yearn to do my own thing, choosing to lay low with my family. Pottering around our home and garden while my phone rings out is standard. There’s a small handful of people I stay in touch with during these quiet times: Liam, our son, and our parents.

I once feared these internal quiet times made me a bad person, which I no longer believe. But could they make me a bad partner? Depending on someone else’s needs and expectations, possibly yes.

Throughout my life I’ve searched for excuses for why I fall off the planet every now and then, with my go-to justifications being “I’m so busy” or “I’ve been flat out.” The truth is simpler. I just don’t want to be in contact with anyone. I don’t always have the energy or desire to engage in back-and-forth messages or cultivate connection. I just want to be. To create art, bake, or do bits and pieces in the garden. In a busy world, choosing to slow down emotionally and socially feels therapeutic.

Being someone who speaks and writes about non-monogamy, I sometimes find myself with diminished bandwidth to discuss relationships or be a sounding board for other people’s joys or struggles. While I love talking about and living non-monogamously, it doesn’t define my entire life. It’s only one part of it, and depending on what’s happening in the other parts, it becomes more or less prominent.

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Non-monogamy is cyclical for me, which is fine. But it might not be fine for someone who wants a more traditional polyamorous relationship. It might not feel good if I don’t reply for weeks on end, for no reason other than being immersed in my own world. Someone recently said I must be “so busy” because I hadn’t written back in a while. I smiled and nodded, not having the heart to say I was busy slowing down, consciously stepping back from my phone.

When I was a teenager, I believed that if I really liked someone, I would stay in contact with them no matter what. As the years pass, I realise that isn’t true. Not having the capacity for constant contact isn’t reflective of my care or love. Needing to be present in my own life doesn’t mean attraction or desire is gone. I just don’t feel the same rush of desperate longing I once craved in a previous chapter of my life.

I know that not replying can seem selfish in non-monogamy, yet my preoccupation with my own world comes from innocence and presence with what is before me. The phone can wait.

Platonic friendships don’t usually carry the same weight of expectation that romantic ones do. There isn’t the same need to prove interest in a friendship, even when someone disappears for a while. But in romantic connections, there’s often a belief that if someone is truly interested, they must constantly feed the connection as though their life depends on it.

I’ve had intense, all-consuming infatuations while being non-monogamous. I’ve felt the frenzied urge to reply instantly, the thrill of seeing someone’s name light up my phone, the stomach flip of excitement. There’s a joy in that, but there’s also joy in the steady, secure connection. A connection that moves with desire when the wanting and the space are there.

For me, a slow-burn, grounded connection is no less pleasurable. Frenzied infatuation is for those newly set free, whereas freedom has been my privilege for years.

Infatuation can be destabilising, and I now gravitate toward stability. I don’t want my day to feel dimmer because a crush didn’t reply. That isn’t empowerment to me, it’s sickly limerence. If someone anxiously awaits my reply and grows resentful, we are not suited. If someone’s tone shifts because I didn’t respond within the socially expected timeframe, my ick is in full swing.