More Than Two: A practical guide to ethical polyamory

by Eve Rickert

You can avoid the deadly chain if you are willing to closely examine your priorities, especially as they relate to your happiness. What boundaries can you set to protect your actual needs? How important is your own autonomy? Are you communicating your boundaries and needs? If you have negotiated away something that turns out to be an essential part of your happiness, you always have the right to renegotiate to get it back.

All healthy sexual relationships are consensual; we don't believe it's reasonable to expect someone to have sex more often than he wants to. Feelings of guilt or pressure around sex breed resentment, and resentment tends to depress sexual desire even more, creating a self-reinforcing cycle.

Bar-raisers show us that things we had taken for granted aren't necessarily true. In doing that, they show us paths to happiness we didn't know existed. Suddenly, things we had always accepted don't look so acceptable anymore.

If your partner starts a relationship with someone who raises the bar, you are challenged to rise above your limitations and move with courage toward the best version of yourself. A relationship that raises the bar can, sometimes, be a blessing in disguise: it can show you how to make all your relationships that much better. But not always. Sometimes a new relationship reveals flaws in an existing relationship that can't be fixed.

If you know or suspect that a partner is in an abusive situation, you may find there is little you can do directly—other than tell him your observations, express your concern, and let him know you're there to support him if and when he decides to try to leave. You cannot rescue your partner, and it can be dangerous to your own mental health to try. In the end, only your partner can rescue himself.

Being in an intimate relationship with someone who is suffering abuse—especially if you fear for their physical safety—can cause you trauma. It's important to set good boundaries for yourself, care for yourself and avoid getting drawn into the abuse dynamic, either as a victim or as a rescuer.

Many primers on abusive relationships list "cuts a person off from other sources of support" as a prime warning sign. Other classic markers include someone making decisions for a partner and expecting her to obey without question, requiring her to check in frequently and report what she is doing, sharing her private information without consent, dismissing or disregarding her feelings, or restricting her access to other people in general. These are ways an abuser creates control, helplessness and isolation.

When your partner's other relationship is disintegrating, you have the difficult balancing act of being supportive without being sucked into the blast radius. It's easy to get emotionally involved when you see your partner hurting. That makes it easy to take sides, seeing the third party only through the lens of your partner's pain. At the same time, you may also become an easy scapegoat for the other relationship's problems.

Do not underestimate how people will hold on to hope for a relationship long after it seems obvious to others that it's over. No matter how much a relationship is hurting your partner, don't assume that eventually he will see this and let go. Don't assume that if your partner is talking about ending it, he actually will. Human hearts have a phenomenal ability to hang on. Sometimes this serves us, but sometimes it doesn't. We often cling to things long after they have stopped bringing us joy.

You are not to blame simply because you have added value to another person's life.

Fully disclosing your known mental health issues is an important part of ethical relationships, because withholding information from anyone about things that affect them erodes informed consent. If you have a mental health issue that is likely to affect those close to you, or if you are partnered with someone whose mental health issues affect your ability to interact with others (for example, if you are a caretaker for someone, or if a partner has a history of violence against herself or others), you are ethically obligated to disclose this information.

Do the choices I make take me closer to, or further from, the best version of me? When I am faced with conflict, how do I seek to act with courage? Are there things I absolutely require in a relationship, and do I communicate those things? In what ways do I care for myself? How do I care for the people around me? Can I respond to changes in my relationship with grace? Do I have problems that make it difficult for my partners to be with me? How do I seek to mitigate those? Do I let problems in the relationships around me affect me? How do I assert boundaries around problems that aren't mine?

People are living, dynamic organisms; you grow or you die. (Actually you die, period; growth is optional.)

You will change. Your partner will change. Your relationship will change. This is a fact, something we must accept gracefully. If you fear change, if you cling too tightly to what your relationship is now and insist that this is the way it must always be, you risk breaking it.

The things you value in your relationship now may not exist in the future. The things you want now, you may not want in the future. The things you see in your partner now may not be there in the future. And that's okay.

Sometimes the answer is yes: these two new people still want to be together. And then you move forward, perhaps stronger than before. But sometimes the answer is no, it doesn't make sense anymore. This is normal and okay, and yet somehow we always seem blindsided by this realization. We become angry, and we treat a breakup almost universally in our society as though it shouldn't happen. In fact, people see this realization as a betrayal.

It's not the shape of the relationship that's important; it's whether it meets your needs. Another good technique is to interrogate your feelings. When you think about the relationship ending, what is your first response? If it's a sense of relief, maybe it's time for the relationship to end.

On the whole, good relationships promote the long-term happiness and well-being of the people involved; when that no longer becomes possible, and there's no clear path to making it possible, then it might be time for the relationship to end.

It has to be okay to end relationships. It has to be okay to end relationships without feeling that our support will be kicked out from under us, or that our other lovers will withdraw their love from us. When it's not okay to end a relationship, consent has left the building.

Even when friendship continues, the end of a romantic relationship is hard. It's normal to feel hurt. It's also normal to mourn the loss of a partner, and the loss of the shared goals and dreams.

It's nice to have people who can understand and empathize with your pain. However, this doesn't actually make the pain go away (though believe it or not, we've both been asked, "If you have two girlfriends and you lose one, it's still okay because you still have a girlfriend, right?" Which is a bit like saying, "If you have two children and one dies, it's still okay because you still have a child, right?")

How do I approach the end of my relationships? What do I want from my former partners? If a relationship ends, what does that mean for my other partners? Will I try to promote one of them to primary? When a partner's relationship ends, what can I do to prevent myself from taking sides or being drawn into conflict? What boundaries do I set around problems within my partners' other relationships? Have I ever spread bitterness in the community or set people against each other by taking sides or by not keeping confidences?

When metamours like or even love each other, it's a wonderful thing for everyone. We've both experienced that blissful place of spending time with two or more of our lovers—or one of them and another of theirs—all of us just enjoying each other's company. That's a good ideal to hope for and even work for, but there can be a trap: We've also seen a craving for that ideal badly fuck up what could have otherwise been some pretty decent situations. If you begin to prize that ideal over the actual needs and personalities of the people involved, you are violating our ethical axiom 1: the people in the relationship are more important than the relationship.

Expectation management is key to helping a relationship with a metamour get off to a strong start. Don't expect that because you're both into the same person, the two of you will feel some kind of instant bond. Don't expect immediate intimacy, don't expect to just "get" each other right away, and don't expect instant "family." Your shared partner likes you both because you're different, after all, and those differences might make you click, or they may make you feel alien to each other. Accept whatever happens. When meeting any new person, you're best to meet without agenda or expectation.

As we hope you have internalized by now, good relationships are always consensual. Part of consent means that people have a fundamental right to choose the level of involvement and intimacy they want with anyone, and to revoke consent to intimacy at any time, in any moment.

We've seen situations where someone who felt threatened by the idea of her partner having other lovers simply found fault with anyone her partner was considering. "I'm just protecting you. You haven't met anyone who meets my standards!" are words we've actually heard. More than once.

Here is a partial list of things that will likely be seen as creepy or intrusive (all of which we've seen or experienced): Spying on your partner or her interactions with your metamours, such as reading her email, monitoring her social media, reading her text messages or listening to her phone calls. Eavesdropping on other aspects of your partner's other relationships, for example by checking up on his whereabouts or monitoring his activities. Calling, texting or otherwise being needy whenever your partner is on a date. Emergencies happen, and many people like to prearrange check-ins so they know their partners are safe. But beyond that, a habit of constant contact with a partner who's with someone else can quickly become intrusive. Oversharing or asking inappropriately intimate questions of a metamour. "Appropriate" is a relative term, and different people have different boundaries around their personal lives. Still, it's good form to pay attention and back off if you're starting to make your metamour uncomfortable. Copying a metamour in any way that's not invited or consensual, such as adopting their style of dress, makeup or fragrances, or giving similar gifts, or doing similar activities with a partner (if you're doing it because that's what your metamour did, not because that's something you too enjoy). Turning up uninvited to places you know your partner will be with your metamour. Expecting to be included in all their activities, especially intimate ones. Disclosing...

Flexibility in metamour relationships, as in all things poly, is your best approach. In practical terms, this means seeing your partner's other partner as a person, not a projection of your own fears and hopes. The best approach is the same you might take with a friend of a friend: be open and welcoming, look for shared interests, ask questions. Take the time to get to know them, but without being pushy or intrusive. Make a warm and welcoming space for them, but don't try to force them into it.

It's less painful to frame an unhappy situation as the fault of a third party than as a problem in our own relationship. It's easier to sit and steam about someone else than to risk the vulnerability of a frank discussion with an intimate partner about our unmet needs.

Poly people tend to act as though metamour relationships are free. That is, we invest in relationships with our partners, but don't often think of the investment required to maintain friendships with their partners. In fact, these relationships can require considerable effort to build and maintain, especially for people who tend to be introverted. An expectation of close relationships, or even family, between metamours is a tacit expectation that someone will be willing to invest significant time and emotional energy in us, just to be with us. However amazing we may think we are, that's asking quite a lot.

Our own romantic network has occasionally reached more than 80 people, which is more than halfway to Dunbar's number. A serious approach to our whole network as "polyfamily" would require us to neglect many other important relationships in our lives (birth families, relatives, work colleagues, friends, neighbors), just to remain connected to our networks. For an introvert, especially, even the number of first-degree metamours a person might have could exceed her total number of close, lifelong friends.

What are my expectations of my metamours? Do I have to know my metamours? Do I expect to have close relationships with them? Do my expectations allow space for metamours who might have different expectations? How do I communicate my expectations? How and when do I want to meet my metamours? Do I give my partner space to conduct his relationship with my other partner, without trying to take sides in conflicts or carry messages between them? What will I do if I don't get along well with a partner's partner? What do I do if one of my partners doesn't get along well with another of my partners?

We believe luck plays little role in finding partners. Your success or failure at finding good romantic relationships depends on many factors that are within your control. When we have been unsuccessful finding partners, we've found it helpful to look at ourselves, what we're doing, what we're offering and what we're asking for.

Try not to make every social encounter about your search for a partner. The harder you look the more desperate you appear, and the more people will avoid you—except the kind who find desperate-seeming people attractive, and these are often not the kind you'll be able to form a healthy relationship with.

The two of us hit it off, flirting throughout the concert, and at the end of it, we exchanged numbers. A few days later, we met for dinner and a political lecture (you know, just your routine leftist-intellectual first date).

You might avoid bringing up the subject early for fear of "scaring off" a prospective partner. However, we find this logic faulty. If someone isn't okay with polyamory, you want to know right away so you don't waste each other's time. Putting off the conversation too long will make an incompatible partner feel like you pulled a bait and switch; you deprived him of the chance to give informed consent to being on a date with you at all.

Wanting to put off disclosure about polyamory reveals a scarcity model: an idea that relationship opportunities are so rare that every opportunity must be pursued, even a wrong one.

People take their cues about how to respond to something from the way you present it. If you treat polyamory as if it's an unfortunate medical condition or a guilty secret, that's how they'll see it. If you treat it as a bold philosophy that you're proud to share with the world, they may be impressed by your avant-garde amazingness.

When selecting a partner, there's a strange state of limbo you can end up in: a person doesn't display any particular red flags or deal-breakers, but you also don't feel really enthusiastic about her, either. If we make choices based on whether or not someone hits any of our deal-breakers, we might plow ahead with a relationship without considering whether or not that person has the qualities we want in a partner.

it makes no sense to invest time and romantic energy with someone you're not that excited to be with, or who isn't excited to be with you. If the idea of dating someone doesn't prompt an enthusiastic "Fuck yes!" then the answer is no. Ambivalence has little place in romance.

Does this person have wisdom I find attractive? Has she done something that shows me she is likely, when faced with a difficult decision, to choose the path of greatest courage? Has she done something that shows me that, when faced by a personal fear or insecurity, she is dedicated to dealing with it with grace, and to investing in the effort it takes to confront, understand and grow beyond it? Does she show intellectual curiosity, intellectual rigor and intellectual growth? Has she dealt with past relationships, including relationships that have failed, with dignity and compassion? Is she a joyful person? Does she value personal happiness? Does she make me feel joy? Does she seem to have a continuing commitment to understanding herself? Does she value self-determinism? Does she approach things with energy and enthusiasm? Does she engage the world? Does she demonstrate personal integrity? Is she open, honest, enthusiastic and exploratory about sex? Does she communicate openly, even when it's uncomfortable to do so?

"Does this person have a history of leaving their social circle better or worse than they found it?"

Finally, remember that your relationship with your child is a relationship, and a very high-maintenance one. And you need to care for that relationship when you are in the throes of a new romance. Just as your partners may feel insecure and scared, so might your children. They too may need reassurance that they are still special, still loved, still irreplaceable. It can be very helpful, as Clara did, to schedule special alone time with your children the way you would schedule "date nights" with your partners: one-on-one time where they have your undivided attention and do something fun with you, so they see that you are still committed to them.

Do they always appear at events together, or do they sometimes attend separately? If one is invited, do both always attend? When they are at events together, do they mingle separately or are they always side by side? Do all their pictures on social media show them together, or do they appear with a variety of friends and family members? Do they have separate close friendships, or are all their friends shared? If they are closeted about polyamory, are they closeted because of genuine risk one of them faces (for instance, a custody dispute or a teaching job) or because they do not want to lose the status and privileges afforded to a couple? Can they schedule their own time, or do they always need to check with each other first?

When you're interested in a new person, considering these questions may help you decide whether they are a good choice for you as a partner: Am I excited by the prospect of being with this person? Is he a "Fuck yes!"? Does this person have relationship values similar to mine? Do I understand and agree to any rules that will apply to my relationship? Am I being asked to give up anything to be in this relationship? If so, do I feel that what I will get in return is worth the price? Is this person available to give me what I think I want in the relationship—in terms of time, emotional intimacy, and freedom for the relationship to grow? Is there anything about this person I'm hoping will change? Does this person help me be the best version of myself?

Asking the following questions of a potential partner can help you figure out whether your values and approaches will mesh well in a relationship: How do you feel about polyamory? Do you have experience with poly relationships, and what does that look like for you? What are your goals in a poly relationship? What restrictions, if any, do you (or your partners) put on other partners? Will I be expected to have a particular kind of relationship with your other partners? What does polyamory mean to you? Do you have any expectations about the role I will be expected to play in your life?

Being open has a lot of personal advantages. It relieves what is for many a constant sense of tension and dread about what will happen if someone says the wrong thing or lets the wrong information slip. It's easier to be authentic to yourself when you don't need to hide who you are. It's easier to act with integrity when you're authentic to yourself. Not expecting partners to be closeted, and being willing to acknowledge partners as partners, helps promote strong, secure relationships.

Focus on the positive, without apology or evasion. You're here to share yourself, not to apologize for being who you are. Talk about how polyamory is a part of your life that makes you happy. Above all, remember the people you're talking to are people you want to share authenticity with.

"If you and I are going to work together, there are some things you need to know about me. One is that I am polyamorous. I have multiple sexual partners, with the knowledge of everyone involved. I am aware of STI risks and I take care to talk to all my partners about our health boundaries. We take safer-sex measures as appropriate. I am also involved in consensual BDSM activities with some of my partners. This means there may be times when there are marks on my body. This does not indicate I am in an abusive relationship. If you have any questions or concerns, please ask me now, and I would be happy to talk to you about them. If you have a problem with this, please let me know, as I don't believe we will be a good fit for each other."

When we make ourselves vulnerable to others, we do more than show them how we value their friendship. We show that we trust them and are willing to be seen by them. We choose to let them show us the best of themselves. This is, perhaps, the best reason to come out to those we love.