A renewed observance: like vegetarians, polyamorists don’t come in just one shape, one size. We come in all patterns, all colors, all sexualities – where some of us are pure vegan, others of us will eat meat occasionally. Some of our bodies just don’t agree with meat, never have. George over there just recently became vegetarian, whereas Derrick can’t remember being anything but. To Sangeeta, chicken has always been a part of a vegetarian diet.
Since finding out that polyamory exists, I’ve continued to observe our failure, like vegetarians, to be good little boys and girls and fall nice and neatly under our label. We fall in different places all over the Kinsey scale, we support different types of relationships all around. Yet we all seem to hold 0up the same umbrella: we want to give love enough credit to at least believe it can extend beyond a single significant other.
We are everywhere, we are new and old. Some, like me, are just now putting a name to the way we’ve always lived and loved. It’s a truly beautiful thing to be able to say it with pride: I’m poly!
The first time I heard about the lifestyle that is polyamory, my brain went BZZZT and I had a moment of awakening. This is who I am, my voice told me through the shock. It’s who I’ve always been, who I always will be.
Since identifying, I’ve been met with a variety of reactions: curiosity, trepidation, apathy, caution, enthusiasm, embarrassment. And I just can’t help telling everyone I know: the thought of myself, once in the dark, sends me into a kind of frenzy of announcing my lifestyle very loudly and in detail. If I could just help one more person find out who they are, you know, I’d be happy.
This habit of mine has been most helpful in allowing me to experience all different kinds of reactions. A lot of people I tell are just plain confused, and who can blame them? It’s hard to say what polyamory truly is, much like it’s hard to say what vegetarianism really is. And then there are all those variants, and soon you find yourself talking about polyamory’s sister, polyfidelity, and not to mention her cousin, open relationship...
One of the most joyful things for me has been my mother accepting me fully for who I am. It’s so nice to just be chatting on the phone with her about the health and whereabouts of each of my partners as if it were the most normal thing in the world. I had a long talk with a friend of mine about group marriage; his curiosity was truly heartwarming, and it was more than interesting to be a part of a small speculative debate about health care for poly families.
There of course have been not so joyful things. I came out to a very close friend of mine, but was saddened and discouraged when he forbade me to tell his significant other, the reasoning being that she would never understand, and would not accept it. She is a close friend as well, but the fact that I can’t share with her what is in essence my whole life has taken it’s toll on me.
Wouldn’t it be nice if people walked around with signposts hovering over there heads: I’m polyamorous, crush on me! Or: Don’t fall in love with me, I’m monogamous! If they did maybe I wouldn’t end up confessing to so many people after the fact: “So, after we take a shower, is it alright if I tell you something?” Bloop. I’m poly. What’s poly? One of my partners asked me. He literally had no clue, was beside himself with curiosity and a bit of shame at the indecency of it all. I’ve often met this attitude: “Oh you mean like swingers?” Is a common reply. All I can do is try not to roll my eyes. I sort of wish I had a sign: Swingers are our second cousins!
Out of all my poly experiences I think the greatest one has been opening people’s eyes, or just plain being poly. It’s the most freeing thing in the world, being who I am. That’s what I meant to say all along. It’s not about being polyamorous, a swinger, a primary or a secondary. It’s about being you and being happy. Sometimes we just need to slap on a label so we don’t grab the salt instead of the sugar.
Categories: Submissions Tags: polyamory, labels