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Engaging in successful poly relationships is definitely a challenge. I don’t think I knew just how much I had learned from them until I was happily back entrenched in monogamy. So, here are the things I’ve learned from being poly that I will carry with me for my entire life.

1. Passive-Aggression Will Get You Nowhere
Not saying what you mean, or saying it coyly, or saying the opposite doesn’t work in group communication settings. Guess what? It doesn’t work one-on-one either. I have this streak in me and I now try to nip that tendency in the bud ASAP. The best part of saying what I mean? Not having to get mad at someone that is technically following instructions I give them that are the exact opposite of what I want.

2. Watch Out For Your Needs
This might be more a function of the specific quad I was in but I think anytime your energy is getting stretched across multiple partners, it is easy to give too much. It isn’t selfish to figure out who you are and what you need and ask for it. If you are monogamous, getting all your relationship needs met falls onto the shoulders of one relationship. Be realistic but still aim high.

3. Pettiness Can Be An Important Indicator
The number one question that poly people are asked is how they handle jealousy. The number one reason people give for avoiding poly is thinking that they can’t deal with the jealousy. When I was poly I experienced jealousy and I don’t think it was always a bad thing. It retrospect, it was a red flag for other feelings of insecurity. Next time you are ready to dismiss a feeling you’re having as petty or irrational, give it another few moments of life. That doesn’t mean communicating with your partner in a petty or irrational way. It means stopping for a moment and digging into how it feels. Pain in your solar plexus? Stress? Even tears? Your body will lead the way in helping to diagnose this anxiety. Letting yourself really live through it will stop if from eating away at you. You might even find out how to talk about it and let it go.

A few weeks ago Mr. Vanilla and I were in the car and, being the upwardly mobile and white liberals that we are, we had on NPR. In particular, This American Life. Even more in particular, this episode about the cultural acceptance of infidelity.

Anyone that follows my Twitter knows how I feel about cheating in relationships. I don’t have a lot of sympathy for any of the parties involved. I’m particularly annoyed with sex bloggers that merrily write about cheating with the expectation that as long as they are fucking, the audience will continue to pat them on the ass and tell them how hot they are.  My personal standards for honesty in relationships are pretty intense. Fuck, I’m even on record about this.

For me, infidelity is taking an action or having a feeling that I think my partner would want to know but that I’m not telling him for some reason. I used to say that I ‘don’t do anything I wouldn’t want him sitting next to me while I’m doing,’ but I think that is pretty reductive and too prone to literal interpretation. Instead, any sort of keeping secrets feels like infidelity to me.

[Aside: I just quoted part of an article from Violet Blue where she quotes me. . . on my own blog. This post should implode now in a self-congratulatory wank-fest. But I’ll persist.]

So, as Mr. Vanilla [since I’m already on a roll with asides, he really needs another name] and I listened to this story my first interest was sort of academic. I thought about my opinions about cheating and at one point nearly blurted out, “God, I fucking hate people that brag about this shit.”

Then I remembered who I was sitting next to. Mr. Vanilla cheated on his ex-wife. He feels like crap about it, he doesn’t justify it with excuses or think that it deserves accolades. Still, he was a cheater. And, some (who operate in the “once a. . . always a. . .” school) would say that he still is.

I contained my outburst and we were quietly listening and driving for a few minutes before I reached for the dial, blocked out Ira Glass and his ilk, and said, “well, that is sort of awkward.”

While infidelity is still an issue in polyamorous relationships, it tends to be less of one because there is less of an incentive or necessity to cheat in most of those arrangements. I’ve been poly for awhile now I’m newly (and quite happily) monogamous. Since I am coming from this other framework, for me the logical solution to having a longing for another partner is to discuss it and potentially change the organization of the relationship. For many people that are monogamous by default, it is to cheat.

Mr. Vanilla and I returned to the topic of the NPR report a few hours later when I reminded him that my monogamy was my choice and that I didn’t make it to restrict him. He re-affirmed his own decision to be monogamous with me. I told him that I hoped he would discuss it with me if he started to have any doubts and that I trusted him.

Fast forward a few days and he is visibly distraught before me after a harrowing conversation with his ex-wife that included a rehashing of his own infidelity. This reminder from a person he wronged of the pain that he caused her was causing him significant guilt and pain. What’s more it was laid bare to me because it interlaced with his fear of making the same mistakes again. Because I love him, every bit of me wanted to take on his pain as if it were my own, grant him absolution, tell him that he didn’t deserve to feel guilty. But I didn’t because it wasn’t true and it isn’t my forgiveness to grant.

What I could give him was the gift of my trust. And in this moment of seeing a person I love deeply at a low of self-doubt, I recognized that it was a very small consolation. But, despite his past mistakes I could look at him before me with compassion and love and know that I trusted him to act in ways that would not harm me. It was a trust that he earned through his actions and displayed character and that he knows all too well that he could lose.  But ultimately, I believe in him and his goodness and I believe in my own ability to bestow my trust and love where I see fit.

I went to camp last month and had a very important time. It took several weeks for the bruises to fade but I’m still processing the self-discovery.

I entered camp strongly suspecting that it would be my last foray into non-monogamy for awhile. Incidentally, I didn’t have a lot of sex. I spent most of my play time getting punched and beaten by lovely people. I also made some personal connections that I hope will persist.

No one has asked me to be monogamous but after being pretty roughed up in my last relationships, I’m starting to think that polyamory and all that goes with it aren’t what I want right now. This means something big. My darling Jay and I are no longer “together”. I invoke the scare quotes because we are together still in many ways. We share a home, although he now moved into the other bedroom. We share a life, although we no longer make long-term plans for the future together. And we share many laughs and that part needs no caveat. I’m lucky to still have a best friend and supporter even if our romantic partnership is dissolved.

I know many of you poly folk think that sex and passion ending isn’t a reason to end a relationship. And I think that if Jay and I had a mortgage or children tying us together we’d make the best of it and have other lovers while keeping maintaining the basics of our life together as a priority. However, we don’t have those things. We just have an amazing friendship that isn’t going anywhere soon. And I suffer from some pretty old-fashioned ideas about having a home and a life with someone that I do have a romantic relationship with. And monogamy. I’m getting more conservative, I suppose, in my old age.

So at camp I tentatively said goodbye to some things that are important to me but I’m pretty committed to my involvement with this community. I don’t know if complete sexual monogamy is something that I’ll stick to (although it is working just fine at the present, thank you) but I do know I’m strictly devoted to the idea of one relationship at a time.

Dear reader, I can hear the collective groans as you assume that I’m about to get intensely boring. Honestly, I think this blog has been pretty boring for months. I’m hoping to get back to writing more often in the hopes of keeping myself engaged with my own sexual journey and sharing the excitement of my burgeoning romance with Mr. Vanilla. I want to tease out the significance of what I’m doing in that it is a choice I’m making for myself and with my eyes wide open and I hope to show that fucking in single file doesn’t have to mean boring.

Jay and I haven’t spent much time apart since we first got together. I took a two day business trip almost three years ago and otherwise we have spent our nights under the same roof (even if not in the same bed). This weekend I’m visiting Michael and Ariel by myself because Jay has to work. I’m doing it because there is no reason not to. I’m doing it because I desperately need some time with Ariel that we haven’t had much of lately.

I’m also anxious about it. Jay will go on dates while I am gone. Everyone will likely fret about this. I’m going to miss him and feel a bit untethered on my own. I’m going to worry about him and if he is lonely or hungry or bored. Nonetheless, I think this will be a positive experience and I won’t be far away from the arms of people that I love and who love me.

I’ve identified as poly for awhile but never had much occasion to discuss it with friends and loved ones since I haven’t gotten serious about a secondary partner in the past. Now I find myself with two secondary partners that I’m deeply in love with. So, I’ve been coming out about this aspect of myself whenever it happens to come up in conversation. Recently I was speaking to an old friend from high school and had this amusing exchange:

Tom: so tell me about the new relationship!

Ellie: I have a spare boyfriend and a girlfriend now.

Tom: what is a spare boyfriend

Ellie: just like a regular one but additional

January – Jay and I started the year by celebrating our 2nd anniversary together. If you want to refresh on how we first met (and the aftermath of that) you’ll have to look back to January of 2006. We were in Thailand for half of this month and pretty depressed to back in the US again. So, you didn’t hear from me again until. . .

April – Where I attended Sex 2.0 and had a fire lit under me. I started a Twitter account, got involved with FetLife, and relaunched my podcast. I finally realized that I was part of a community and felt like I belonged.

May – I started reviewing products on my podcast and blog for VibeReview.

June – I spent a lot of time thinking about sex work in both text and audio forms. I also got sort of pissy and ridiculous about blogging and met Artemis Hunter for the first time.

July – I had my first freelance work published in The Naughty American and dug up some old camwhore shots. I also experienced a bit of heartbreak, but it turned out a great piece of writing if I do say so myself. I also got tied up by Artemis and finally hooked up with Carmine who had previously only been known as “cross-dressing law student“. Finally, I began publishing the Musings on Masculinity series.

August – The biggest news and one of the happiest days of my last several years was telling my dad about my “secret identity”. I’m still basking in the joy of that moment as I remember it. Also in July, Jay and I got to know Hania much better.

September – I was named #5 on the list of the Top 100 Sex Bloggers of 2008 among started a bajillion other projects. We also went to Dark Odyssey Summer Camp which was a watershed event for me despite the fact that I haven’t talked about it too much. I also presented at the Fetish Fair Flea Market and got to meet Catalina and Marky for the first time.

October – The posts slowed down and the earth stopped moving because something remarkable happened. We met Ariel and Michael and fell in love and my feet still haven’t touched the ground. At first I could only express the feelings in music. But. . .

November -  . . . soon I found more detailed words and images to express my thoughts. I captured the unique sadomasochistic relationship that Michael and I have developed as well as the experienced of being fucked by Ariel for the first time. And the sexy gave way to the mundanely profound as we found ourselves forming a type of family, broken hollondaise and all.

December – Ariel starts lending a hand with reviews and I think that the format suits this site. Jay and I also visited New York and saw tons of the friends that we met through the year. I also spent a sedate Birthday and Hanukkah at home with my new chosen family.

The breath catches in my throat as I feel the fullness slide into me.  I feel the sudden urge to survey the scene from outside of my own body and look at Jay and Michael who are surrounding us. Then I look directly up at Ariel and see her eyes shut and lips parted. My hand goes straight to her long hair and pulls her towards me for a kiss. With this movement the toy slips deeper into me and I gasp against her lips and shudder.

“This feels amazing, darling.”

Her only response is an angelic smile and I suddenly feel grateful. Profoundly so.

I can’t say that her movements were like thrusts. We rocked together. Happy, content, clinging.

Jay’s hand is stroking my hair and forehead and Michael is behind Ariel caressing her curves and then. . . something more. As her reactions increase in intensity, I’m overcome with curiousity. I look up at Michael, trying to catch his glance but I find myself rocked by an intense thrust and lose track of my objective.

“What is he doing to you, sweet girl?”

Her lips are clamped shut and she is concentrating. When my voice breaks her reverrie she can only look at me with a look of concern and mild alarm. I wait patiently for a response but she just nods.

“Oh sweetie, please tell me what he is doing?”

My objective has just changed. I know I can ask one of the men for this piece of information but my new desire it to hear something filthy come from Ariel’s pretty lips.

Between gasps as the dildo slides into me, I keep enough composure to tease her mercilessly. Taunting her to speak.

“Is he playing with your pussy? Is he fucking you?”

By now the boys have figured out what I was up to and Michael helpfully suggests that she is speechless. I had noticed.

But, as the enormity of this moment sets in on me and as I felt my impending climax, I am suddenly happy for the silence. I cling to her harder, holding onto something about the particular, precious sliver of time and know that, despite her lack of words, she is speaking to me with grace, precision, and deep affection.

So much has been said these past two weeks but I still feel like it isn’t for the rest of the world. I can’t articulate myself in a way that makes it as big as it is so I keep it to myself and I privately swoon to a few friends and still feel like I miss the mark. There are tears of pain and joy and I’m so grateful for everything I’m feeling. Another playlist: