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The first time it happened, Andy and Julia had come to New York for the weekend and I was trying desperately to look like a fun, outgoing person who did cool things in the city. Honestly, that time in my life wasn’t very cool. I’d gone on tour with a rock band immediately after graduating college instead of seeking out a practical career, which had been awesome at the time, but when that dried up I moved back in with my parents and picked up a dead-end job at a local bookstore chain in suburban New Jersey. None of my friends lived in the town I grew up in anymore and I felt directionless, really lonely and vulnerable. I was just sort of floating in space, waiting for my real adult life to pick up. I realize when I tell this story that I sound like the kind of person who might get recruited for a religious cult.
Andy and Julia were a cool young couple who lived upstate. I’d met them at a concert I’d gone to by myself, and I’d liked both of them immediately. As we got to know each other better, I learned that we liked a lot of the same music and shared a twisted sense of humor. I didn’t have a lot of friends at the time, and I’d put a lot of pressure on myself to make our night out as amazing as possible.
We were out at MisShapes, a weekly hipster dance party that took place at a club called Don Hills. The music was always amazing, the people at the party were always infinitely better-looking than anywhere else, and there were usually party photographers on hand to document everyone’s outfits (never mine). We’d had a few drinks by the time we got there, and things were already fuzzy — the only music I can remember the DJ playing was “I Believe In A Thing Called Love” by the Darkness. The three of us were dancing together and having a perfectly lovely time. Julia left to get us another round of rum and cokes, and at that moment I felt the mood on the dance floor abruptly shift. The energy between me and Andy had somehow gone from playful to downright flirtatious, and we were both quite drunk. When he kissed me, I pushed him away and stared, deer in headlights.
“Hey, what’s going on?! Your fiancée’s right over there!”
“It’s totally fine.” I looked up and saw Julia watching us, smiling broadly as if she were watching her two kids winning a soccer game. This was something that they allowed in their relationship, although historically it had usually been Julia casually making out with various girls. Her reaction was more amused than anything. She crossed the room, handed us our drinks, and that’s when things got blurry. Next thing I knew, I had Julia pressed up against the sound booth, and she and I were making out with an almost ferocious intensity. I’d never kissed a girl before, and I was struck by how soft her mouth was, how different the curves of her body felt. I had no idea how this had happened, but was told later that I’d been the instigator. I remember slurring some strange justification, probably a line from Trainspotting that I’ve always loved — “It’s all about aesthetics, and fuck all to do with morality.” The three of us continued making a drunken spectacle of ourselves all over the dance floor at Don Hills, on the street, in a cab, on the PATH train.
The next morning, we laughed it off — we’d had such a crazy night! I didn’t read into what had happened too deeply. A few weeks later, I came upstate for Julia’s birthday party, and halfway through the night the three of us found ourselves sneaking off to some dark corner to make out again. We certainly hadn’t intended for there to be a repeat performance, but after a couple of sly shared glances and a tequila or three, we found ourselves clumsily pawing at each other once again. At one point Julia’s lip ring got caught in one of my earrings and my studded belt left dull scrape marks along the wall. The next morning, it happened again. We began to accept that this was a thing that was happening — we didn’t know exactly why, but knew we felt drawn to it. Against our better judgement we’d fallen into an awfully volatile situation.
At the beginning, it was confusing for a few reasons — I’d never been with a girl before, and I was terrified of what that meant for me. I was 22 years old and equal parts overwhelmed and frightened by the prospect of confronting my sexuality in a whole new way. I had no queer identity or poly community or anyone to really bounce my fears off of; I felt like the only person this had ever happened to, and I had to deal with it on my own. I justified my attraction to Julia by telling myself that the situation was Julia-specific, and that she was the only girl I’d ever feel anything for. The situation was doubly terrifying because Julia and Andy had been together for over a decade and were engaged to be married. I knew that our dalliances had to remain merely that, and that nothing that transpired between the three of us could interfere with their exclusive relationship.
Of course, none of my concerns did anything to stop the whole thing from being just… really hot. There was something delicious about receiving all this attention from two people who also loved each other, and in some ways we all got off on the taboo aspect of this arrangement. We were all well aware that the situation could be dangerous, but we just couldn’t stop ourselves.
Friends who knew what we were up to regarded us with bemused skepticism. By this time, I’d moved into my first real apartment in Brooklyn. My two straight dude roommates never so much as raised an eyebrow when Andy and Julia would visit for the weekend, never questioned our obvious affection for each other, our sleeping arrangements or any noises that may or may not have emanated from my tiny bedroom. Whenever possible, I’d take the Amtrak upstate and spend a few blissful days at their little house in the country, reveling in the privacy and the pleasure of their company. Julia’s mom was a wholesome lady who played the organ in the church choir, and apparently never noticed the angry purple hickeys her daughter and I would often sport when we stopped by.
For Julia, our situation gave her an opportunity to step outside the traditional heteronormative world her relationship with Andy had afforded her. She wanted to hold hands in public, relished the opportunity to flip the bird at passing drivers who yelled “DYKE!” out their windows. We were both pretty big fans of t.A.T.u. and had many Meaningful Moments singing along to their melodramatic lesbian love songs, preferably in the original Russian (which we didn’t understand, but felt deeply). All of this was brand new to me, and a little overwhelming. I certainly hadn’t come to terms with what all of this meant for my own sexuality, and I was uncomfortable with how strange our relationship must have looked from the outside. I once refused to put my arm around her in Grand Central Station, citing that my mom went to Grand Central Station sometimes, and I was terrified of anybody knowing what we were up to. We weren’t even really sure ourselves — we talked about it sometimes, and decided that our friendship was of utmost importance. The three of us had become incredibly close, and Julia and I talked online or through text almost all day every day. We refused to describe what we were doing as a Relationship with a capital R, and I was never ever referred to as their Girlfriend. We looked at the future through rose-colored glasses, figuring that over time, the physical aspect of our relationship would dwindle as we got to know each other better. We imagined we’d be left with a very close friendship, filled to the brim with trust and mutual respect. We failed to notice the basic reality that relationships just don’t work that way. The more we hooked up, the more intense things became, and the emotional stakes became even higher.
And then something happened that I wasn’t prepared for: I started falling in love with Julia.
I’m not sure exactly when it happened, but one day I found myself short of breath whenever she smiled, shuddering internally when she held my hand, falling apart entirely when she kissed me. I was horrified to realize that all my previous infatuations had been merely that, and that this impossible mess of a thing was the real deal. I’d never considered falling in love with a woman before — I mean, I knew it was something people did, but suddenly it had happened to me, and I was completely lost. This was a problem, confounded entirely by the very obvious truth that Andy was starting to develop some sort of real feelings for me.
I had no idea what to do with Andy’s affection. As far as I was concerned, he and I worked best as friends, and our physical relationship was merely incidental. None of us had intended to shake up the dynamics of Andy and Julia’s relationship, but this had become a very dangerous situation, and it became obvious that none of us had a particularly realistic endgame in mind. I can’t say what went on behind closed doors because I was not privy to Andy and Julia’s discussions regarding the rules of their relationship with me, but suffice it to say this new exchange of feelings made Julia extremely insecure and paranoid about her relationship with Andy, her primary partner. As she pulled away from me to focus on Andy, I became desperate and terrified of losing Julia. As my focus shifted almost entirely onto Julia, Andy worried about losing my attention, which alienated Julia further. The entire scenario had become toxic and uncomfortable, and absolutely nobody was getting what they wanted.
As I struggled to understand how I fit into our complicated relationship, I assigned myself a lower level of importance than everyone else involved. I didn’t really feel comfortable asking about the conversations Andy and Julia had about me, and they rarely volunteered information. I knew they’d discussed rules regarding which physical acts they considered off-limits with me, but they never included me in these discussions and I was too afraid of screwing things up to insist. In retrospect, we all violated a cardinal rule of non-monogamy, and I know that I should have been privy to all discussions related to the rules I was intended to follow, but I was young and dumb and thought I was being good-natured and respectful. When Andy inevitably tried to do something to me that wasn’t in the rulebook, I had no idea why Julia stopped him and burst into tears. She bottled up whatever awful things she was feeling and saved her meltdown for a time when I would be well out of earshot.
It was around this time that Andy and Julia had decided officially that they were going to move to Brooklyn, and I offered to help in any way I possibly could. As it happened, the company Andy worked for was able to transfer him to a location in Queens very quickly, while Julia was having a lot of trouble finding the right gig. We realized that the easiest solution was for Andy to come live with me for a while — we could look for apartments together while he settled in, and Julia could start packing up their house and hunt for jobs. In the midst of all this confusion, such a profound change in our relationship dynamic was probably the worst thing we could have done. Andy moved in with me in late July, under the condition that he and I were not to be physical with each other at all without Julia present.
In mid-August, we gathered with some mutual friends at Andy’s parents’ shore house in Cape May for his birthday. Andy and Julia had arrived early get the house ready, and I took the bus down there as soon as I got off work, goofy birthday present in hand, nervous knots in the pit of my stomach.
We threw a small birthday party on the screened-in porch, complete with rum cocktails and a homemade chocolate cake. We went for a group walk along the shore at sunset and took adorable photos of the whole gang jumping in the surf. It should have been a perfect weekend, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was just horribly wrong. Julia wouldn’t hold my hand or kiss me, would barely look me in the eye. When I asked her what was up, she threw out lame excuses — primarily that she didn’t want Andy’s neighbours to see us, in case they told his family. Later, while Andy and our other friends chatted animatedly, I lay catatonic on the couch with my knees pulled up to my chest, trying to work out why everything felt so different. When the three of us finally retired to the bedroom after an otherwise charming evening, Julia and Andy passed out, half-drunk and blissed out. I lay there with my left hand looped through the hip of Julia’s underwear, staring aghast at the back of her neck.
It wasn’t until I’d gotten home that Julia worked up the nerve to tell me that she and Andy had decided (or rather, she had decided) to end our physical relationship altogether, “for the good of our friendship.” She hadn’t told me all weekend because she didn’t want to make things weird or ruin the birthday party. Of course, she’d done both of these things, but I already felt too powerless to feel any sort of angry. Instead, I was wracked with self-loathing and blamed myself for having added unnecessary stress to their relationship. I assumed all the blame for the entire disaster, and the weight of my guilt absolutely crushed me. I listened to “Exit Wound” by Human Waste Project on repeat for hours and cried until tears streaming down my face felt as natural as breathing. Through all of this, I kept repeating to myself Julia’s promise that this decision would help preserve our friendship, and prayed that eventually I’d come to believe her.
Of course, Andy was still living with me, a fact that made Julia horribly uncomfortable. He was no longer allowed to sleep in my bed, and Julia had taken to texting both of us constantly, demanding continuous updates, begging us not to have any fun of any kind without her. Left to our own devices, we perused restaurants we knew Julia would have hated, drank vodka lemonades on my roof and had really beautiful, honest conversations about the state of our friendship. I was still navigating my heartbreak and was something of a fragile mess, but Andy was dedicated to being a supportive friend. He helped me hold things together, and he made me laugh.
On the weekends, Julia would come down to visit, and I found it difficult to be in the same room as or even look at her. We’d go out dancing together and I’d always end up alone, feeling like an awkward third wheel. She’d spend most of her visit trying to steal Andy away so they could be alone together, and I’d let the two of them sleep in my bed while I slept across the room, pining miserably. I began to experience frequent panic attacks. I agonized over Julia’s perception of me, worried about being avoided, and even though I knew it was ridiculous, I started to resent Andy for commanding so much of her attention.
It’s important to know that at this time, I was living in a pretty big loft apartment in Bushwick with a couple of charmingly oblivious straight guys. The building was an old converted factory, and although our common area was gigantic, the individual rooms were actually quite small. My bedroom was lofted, which meant that upstairs, I had 5’ high ceilings — a grownup treehouse. I kept a wardrobe on the ground level, but in my actual sleeping space I only had room for a small dresser and a mattress on the floor. When Andy first came to live with me, we shared my bed, but after our triad situation came to an end, he good-naturedly built himself a little blanket nest on the other side of the room. When Julia stayed over for the weekend, I slept in the nest. It was terribly uncomfortable. I have no idea how he even made it through a single night. One night as we were getting ready for bed, I thought fuck it, why should he suffer? I told Andy he could sleep in my bed with me. We were friends, right? Everything would be fine.
Everything was fine, until the very early morning, when it wasn’t.
Nothing really happened — we didn’t get very far before I burst into tears. We stopped ourselves and sat up, guiltily staring at the ceiling, the walls, anywhere but at each other. Obviously someone had to tell Julia; I couldn’t keep this from her. She was my best friend, and he was her life partner. We were devastated by what we’d done , but we knew we had to be honest. After much deliberation, we decided we would tell her together.
I made it about an hour before I caved and told her everything myself.
I slept on the floor in the living room for a couple of days. After that, Andy transferred back to his old job upstate, packed up his things and left my apartment forever. I mailed him a couple of shirts he’d left behind, wrote Julia a few desperate and miserable letters (and even sent a cringe-inducing mix CD), but I never heard back. I spent the next couple of months crying alone in my little loft, listening to Amy Winehouse’s “Back to Black” ad nauseam. I couldn’t stop shaking, and I could barely keep food down. I could not begin to imagine a time when I might feel better, and I found that feeling better wasn’t something I was particularly interested in. All I wanted to do was punish myself. When I finally left the house, I was a drunk, sobbing mess. None of my friends understood what I’d been through. They wondered how I could have grown so attached to two people who were very clearly never going to end up with me. They told me they’d known this was all a horrible idea right from the get-go; what was I thinking? I had no answers.
Seven years later, I met Julia for coffee at a tiny coffee shop off Rittenhouse Square in Philadelphia. We’d chosen Philadelphia as a neutral halfway point between our two respective cities. I arrived early and trembled nervously over my Americano, nearly spilling it all over myself when she walked in. In the years since we’d seen each other, she and Andy had gotten married and lived in four different cities. New York City was not among them. I’d moved twice myself, changed jobs several times, dated my way through a series of disasters of various genders and ended up writing about music and sexuality for a queer website. I was twenty-nine years old and they were in their thirties.
She told me that she and Andy had never repeated the experience of sharing a girlfriend. I told her about how I’d dabbled in poly situations, but had learned through unfortunate trial and error that I just didn’t have the emotional constitution to withstand them. I’d also learned that we had done poly all wrong, and that better communication and clearer boundaries would probably have changed a lot of things, but it didn’t change the way my gut clenched when I imagined sharing a partner or being shared ever again. It took us seven years to have that talk, or to even reach a place in our lives where we could be in the same room.
Later, on the Chinatown bus back to New York, I stared out the window and wondered what I’d expected to get out of our encounter. I’d always imagined that burying the hatchet would feel like some huge revelation, that a weight would be lifted from my shoulders. Turns out, I didn’t feel much — only the same sort of peaceful satisfaction that comes from organizing a long-neglected drawer or untying a complicated knot. From seven years’ vantage point, the emotional wreckage seemed much less daunting, and the closure I’d been so desperate to grant myself no longer felt urgent or even necessary. Some things don’t end neatly or well, and by the time you’re ready to face them, it turns out you already have.
This is so fucking great. I’m excited to read it three more times when I should be working.
Oh my lordddd. I feel so stressed out on your behalf.
Regardless, I stand in solidarity with this questionable decisionmaking. I haven’t been in this *exact* situation, but… sometimes we all learn things the hard way.
Thank you.
ighlewhagiehwlaighew <- my mind/emotions while reading this. I can only imagine the messy tangled pain you experienced. Thanks for sharing <3
i love love love the way you ended this. The sentiments you describe are perfectly revolutionary in their own right, but also feel self evident in the narrative.
Thank you for sharing this incredibly personal, powerful story.
Love is horrifyingly traumatic sometimes, isn’t it? I’m so sorry you fell in love in the midst of such a confusing and scary situation… glad your heart has recovered.
<3
This is so great. You were at the tail end of this mess when I first met you, and I love how this essay ends, too
we had so much fun crying all the time.
i thought it was especially fun when we cried in public, too
I signed up for A+ just for this article. I almost panicked when it didn’t show up right away and sent the mods a frantic note LOL. Anyway, I just want to give a great big THANK YOU!! for writing this to the author, and a great big THANK YOU! to the mods for allowing a real, live poly situation to be discussed here.
I am non monogamous. Strictly so, these days. I’ve been called a slut and a trollop (both jokingly and seriously), and most of the people in my life don’t take my relationships seriously. The raw pain here is communicated amazingly. The one thing I hate about being non monogamous is that people act as if I don’t feel that same kind of pain because I am not, nor will I ever be, exclusive to one person.
I hate that this one situation turned you off to the possibility of poly/left a bad taste in your mouth, OP, but I certainly understand it. I did poly wrong once, too- with similar issues. Becoming a third wheel to an already established exclusive couple. There was plenty of lack of communication,etc, as with your situation here.I have since, however, learned that monogamy is a miserable set up for me, and modified how I do the open lifestyle to where it works beautifully.
Again, thank you so much for sharing this with us.
Agreed. I have done all sorts of relationship styles “wrong” at this point in my life. The thing I’ve come to see is that they can all be done “wrong” in pretty much the same ways: not knowing yourself, not being honest with yourself, not communicating with your partners, not insisting that they communicate with you (even when it’s hard–especially when it’s hard). These “failures” aren’t really specific to nonmonogamy or polyamory.
Further, doing this stuff “wrong” is really how we learn our wants and needs and boundaries. It’s how we learn to communicate. It’s how we learn what it feels like to be truly met by a partner in relationship. It’s how we learn than an ending doesn’t have to equal a failure.
I am polyamorous to my core. Not nonmonogamous–polyamorous. Doing the whole “falling in love” deal with more than one person. That’s my thing. It took me a long time to figure that out, and I emphatically don’t believe, in my range of experience along the monogamy-polyamory spectrum, that any one relationship structure is inherently any riskier or more dangerous or more complex than any other. It’s all risky. It’s supposed to be. That’s the point; that’s where the beauty is.
hi theresa, i did see your comments on the facebook page and felt like i should address them..
i do mention near the end of the piece that i did try a couple of other iterations of poly relationships after this, in various formats and with much better levels of communication. i agree with you that relationships in and of themselves are risky, and that if everyone isn’t on the same page regarding the kind of relationship they’re looking for, things can be quite painful no matter what the arrangement. an earlier draft of this piece ended with me explaining pretty much what you said in your first paragraph. however, i learned the hard way (several different ways) that polyamory wasn’t something i was good at or really interested in, but i have a lot of friends who have had very fulfilling and loving poly relationships. i have nothing but respect for people who are able to make polyamory work. i joke about how i’m too much of a scorpio to share, but i think it’s important to learn when something isn’t right for you and stop putting yourself in situations that make you feel uncomfortable – i imagine you experienced something similar with monogamous relationships when that situation wasn’t right for you.
this essay isn’t an attack on polyamory as a concept; it’s a story about something that happened to me, and something that i sort of wished had existed on the internet when i thought i was the only one this had ever happened to. honestly, i went looking, and i found a lot of really distressing movies and discouraging essays. it’s rough out there.
(like, just so distressing.)
Totally fair and all very valid. Thank you so much for taking the time to reply so thoroughly! I hope my responses didn’t seem like an attack on your experiences, and I apologize if they did–I appreciate that this isn’t for everyone and that’s entirely, entirely okay. Nothing is for everyone, and your experiences are valid, both in and of themselves and as an experience with nonmonogamy. And I can absolutely relate to feeling alone in a non-traditional relationship situation.
Thank you again for sharing this, and for your further replies. I appreciate them quite a lot.
I don’t really “fall in love” with more than one person, though I despise and feel stifled by the idea of my human connections being limited. Also, I feel like the whole “staying true” to one person thing would never work for me. If I want to explore feelings with another, or am unfulfilled in some way with my primary partner, does that somehow mean I don’t love her? Of course not. I have plenty of affection to go around. Right now I am single, and I have a date this coming Monday night with a woman in an open marriage. Couldn’t be more excited! I want a primary partner in a sexually open situation. That’s my set up. Cheers! to knowing who we are and what we need.
And yes, all relationships can be done wrong. I cheated in 2 out of 3 of the monogamous unions I was in, and was cheated on in one. In the one where I Was cheated on, I realized I wasn’t as angry and outraged as others are when they find out about infidelity. That was how I knew that monogamy, staying “true” to another, etc, just isn’t important to me. My ex did me a favor when she cheated, seriously. You’re right, doing it wrong is how we learn to get it right. Even a year ago, I was like “Oh, I can do monogamy OR non-monogamy,” for fear of what others would think of me. Strange how much one can evolve in a year, isn’t it? Now, I know who and what I am and what I need and want, and that is a glorious feeling.
This is so extraordinary and beautifully done, Stef.
Stef, this is so wonderful. I just keep reading it over and over and loving it even more every time.
This is fantastic & quite brave of you to so eloquently share. I think it speaks to the truth of all of us being experiments of one…every person is so wonderfully unique,which makes the communication of how ‘you do you’ a sometimes awkward & sticky mess. :) thanks for writing this!
Stef, thank you so much for sharing this with us. It resonated with me in a very real way, as someone who also just kind of found herself in a poly relationship and very much felt like a secondary partner whose input was not taken into consideration when rules & boundaries were being made. My relationship recently ended (albeit much more amicably than yours) and I think I’ll be returning to monogamy for the foreseeable future. I’m so grateful for the support of my friends and community, and I can only imagine how awful it was for you to be going through all of this, feeling so alone. Echoing several commenters above, I love how you ended this piece.
Being a secondary can be super tough, especially if people take “secondary” to mean “second-class person that doesn’t deserve basic dignity and communication, just rules and frameworks they have zero input on” -_-
Omigosh, Stef…this piece is amazing and is giving me so many feels.
I spent about 5 years trying various of poly, hoping to find the thing that I had been missing from my previous relationships and somehow thinking I was enlightened. I learned a lot over the those years about communication, jealousy, and myself, and I’m grateful for the experience. But, in the end, I mostly discovered that I don’t have the constitution to endure and navigate all the emotional complications.
This was so gorgeous. Thank you for sharing.
I often feel like I’d be interested in trying polyamory, but for various reasons it’s not possible for me. But I’ve been in some situations that have similar emotional resonance to what you wrote here. So thanks for showing me I’m not alone in my complicated feelings.
This piece was so compelling and engaging and also just like….like it was almost like I could feel the emotions in here. Beautifully written, and thanks for sharing.
oh maaaaaaaaaaaan. I know these feels! to be young and trying so hard and be like it is all my fault everything is my fault! but is all really chaotic!
and yeah. closure is what happens to a road when it snows and never between two people, but it doesn’t stop anybody from chasing it.
Thank you so much for being brave enough to share this story. One of the things I love most about this website and being an A+ member is learning so much through the experience of others
Stef – thank you so so much for sharing this.
I too ‘failed’ at poly (though in a very different way) – losing my best friend of 20 years and my life partner and another dear friend in the process. We all lived/moved within a very small community in rural Yorkshire. My ex and I made peace and are on friendly terms, and fallout continues to be resolved with others who ‘picked sides’ back then, but my best friend and I haven’t spoken in six years and it remains the biggest regret of my life. I would do anything to mend our friendship.
I have so much respect for all those doing poly successfully, but I know I can never go there again.
Thank you again for sharing and helping me feel less alone in this ‘failure’. It seems to me that (unlike me) you behaved with human feeling and as much integrity as is possible without being a robot. Huge respect and a big hug xxxxx
Oh wow. Stef. This made me experience every possible feeling. I also met you at the tail end of this particular story and so it’s really great to hear the way that you’re telling it today.
So good. So wise.
I am so excited this exists! So good.
Wow, thank you for this. Did you know there is nothing really the internet about “accidental poly” ? This is going to give such good perspective to people googling through confusion looking for help on this topic. Especially the “the blame is not all on you” part.
“Some things don’t end neatly or well, and by the time you’re ready to face them, it turns out you already have.”
Wow. Thank you.
I second that!
I needed this badly today. Thank you for sharing. I have recently been trying very hard to be successful in a poly relationship and I am discovering that it is not for me. Thank you for sharing your story and allowing me to find parts of myself in it.
This was really intense. I’m so happy that you’re writing these kinds of essays for Autostraddle because this is the stuff that’s been stitched into my soul after stumbling across AS all those years ago.
What a great piece of writing, so personnal, too. Thank you.
I’ve been through something somewhat similiar, though no sex was ever involved. I know the feeling of anxiety when you realise the person you are so into is starting to pull away. And I also know the extent of the idiotic feels it brings inside of us.
“Oh, you are letting me know you want a bit more more distance? I’m fine with it, I’m such a casual gal, full of casualness. But please bear with y (totally unrelated, I swear) flow of sugar-sweet text messages, and my random “thinking of you!” gifts. Are you at work? Cuz I could totally bring you an I’m-just-a-good-friend-of-yours latte… for fun. Please don’t say no. D:
One does not just love the fuck out of two people at the same time. It’s a difficult, draining, constantly evolving process.
Oh, this hit me so hard I nearly got sick at work. I fell in love with a Julia once (I was the exgirlfriend, she was the new girlfriend, and he was The Worst). I was maybe 17, and still so desperate for male approval that I did what was easy instead of what I wanted. Truly fucking regret that.
<3
Soooo good and honest!! Poly, like any relationships, can be soooo messy and I think you did a good job of highlighting where things went wrong, but not blame the relationship style/type, rather the fact that we are human and feelings are rough.
And feelings are so hard to explain sometimes, especially when you’re young and don’t want to mess up or add pressure and don’t feel like you know the rules. I felt this so hard before!
This brings up so many memories of the first girl i fell for and all the mess around our friendship. And it is comforting to be able to reflect back, as you did, and realize i’ve moved on from a situation i thought i could never move on from.
Thanks for sharing this really beautiful essay with us.
Hi Stef, love you, thanks for sharing your weirdoness
Stef!!!!!! STEF. This was fuckin’ wonderful. Heart wrenching and honest and just good. I love the closing bit!
Excellent piece and quite scary stuff since I’ve just entered into a relationship with someone who is poly and I am one of three partners to the person I am involved with. Although a difference is that I am only involved with the one person and one of the other partners I haven’t even met.
But still, this story some to many of my concerns and a lot of the worst case scenarios I’ve imagined have seemed to manifest in your experience. But also, a lot of the things in your diagnosis of what went wrong and what you might’ve done better seems to be all healthy and in order in my case. So it was a mixed bag of sheer terror and relief reading this.
Here’s hoping for the best…
Good luck!
this is so real and told so well and thank you for sharing <3
This makes me feel so much less alone (similar to an experience I had a few years ago). I really love your shameless inclusion of songs you had on repeat—totally looked them up on spotify while I was reading…
“None of my friends understood what I’d been through. They wondered how I could have grown so attached to two people who were very clearly never going to end up with me. They told me they’d known this was all a horrible idea right from the get-go; what was I thinking? I had no answers.”
THE WORSSSSST. This is exactly how to not be a supportive friend. It sucks when people not only invalidate your choices like that, but also shame you when you’re right in the middle of a shitty situation. D:
Thank you for writing this, and I’m sorry you went through that level of messiness. <3
This was great.
“Some things don’t end neatly or well, and by the time you’re ready to face them, it turns out you already have.”
I know that i’m years late to reading this, but I really wanted to thank you for writing this. My early 20s experience with polyamory was a massive event in my life and reading this take on your own experiences was incredibly affirming. The piece was outstandingly written and makes my memories feel less lonely. Thank you.
<3 thank you.
Also very late, commenting. I recently ended my first experience with a poly relationship, and I had the same experience with friends not really understanding, and it’s not easy. Hopefully someday I can close out the story in the same way that you did. Thank you for this.