More Than Two: A Practical Guide to Ethical Polyamory (More Than Two Essentials)

by Franklin Veaux

Something we've both heard often is "When I started exploring polyamory, the things I thought would be important and the things that turned out to be important were very different." We have found that poly relationships thrive most readily when they are free to change and adapt. When the people in the relationship are more important than the structure of the relationship—when they are free to advocate for their needs, to grow even in unexpected ways, when they feel a sense of personal empowerment over their relationships—the relationships themselves tend to be strong, resilient and happy. As we discuss in chapters 4 and 8, it can be tempting, especially if you are new to polyamory, to try to script what your relationships will look like—to decide in advance what kinds of people you will place into what roles. People often do this to avoid dealing with issues like insecurity or fear of being left out. This approach treats people as interchangeable parts rather than as human beings with their own needs and desires. When we treat people as components to fit roles we have scripted for them, they are likely to feel disempowered, which plants the seeds for all kinds of trouble. What almost invariably does work is to remain open to relationships in a wide variety of configurations, and develop tools for open communication, for advocating for your needs, and for acting ethically and compassionately no matter what form those relationships may take. As Eliezer Yudkowsky says, "You a...

For each person, the "right" way to do poly is to talk about your needs, fears and insecurities; to talk about the ways your partner can support you; and to honor your commitments—without being controlling or placing rules on other people to protect you from your own emotional triggers. Above all else, trust that you don't have to control your partner, because your partner, given the freedom to do anything, will want to cherish and support you. And always, always move in the direction of greatest courage, toward the best possible version of yourself.

** Some polyamorous people engage in a structure called "Don't ask, don't tell," in which the people involved don't talk about their other relationships or even mention they exist. This approach often causes problems (as we discuss in chapters 10, 14 and 18).

The people in a relationship are more important than the relationship. Don't treat people as things. These are simple, but not necessarily easy. We will be returning to them often. Axiom 1, of course, does not mean that relationships aren't important. And it doesn't mean that you should never make personal sacrifices for the benefit of a relationship. But while it is often necessary to make sacrifices of time, short-term gratification or non-essential desires for the long-term benefit of a relationship (or a partner), it is never desirable to sacrifice your self for a relationship. We discuss this further in chapters 4 and 5. And while individual wishes do sometimes need to be subsumed to collective well-being, it's important to remember that relationships exist to serve the people in them. If a relationship stops serving the people in it, it's not doing its job. It may not even have a reason to exist anymore. Thus, axiom 1 is, like axiom 2, always true (that's why it's an axiom). Even though the people and the relationship need to serve each other, the people are always more important. Always.

there are other kinds of lies. For example, Franklin has spoken to a married woman cheating on her husband who said, "I'm not lying to him, because I'm not telling him that I'm being faithful!" In truth, she was lying: she was concealing information that, if he knew about it, would have changed his assessment of their relationship. When we talk about honesty in this book, we will do so from the position that a lie of omission is still a lie.

One of our readers recently said, "You can come with baggage, but you're responsible for knowing what's in the suitcases." This is often described as "owning your own shit." So what do you need to know? First, your needs. Most of us are never taught how to figure out what we need, let alone communicate it effectively. We are usually really good at feeling our feelings, but we tend to react to the feeling rather than the actual need. For example, we tend to think that when we feel angry, it's because someone else did something bad to us, so we react to that person, tell them how much they hurt us, and perhaps demand they stop. Sometimes anger really is about the thing you think it's about. But often, particularly in intimate relationships, the anger is about something else. It's about a need that's not being acknowledged or expressed, or even known.

You can't control how your partners' other relationships develop, but you can control how you allow them to intersect with and affect your life. You are allowed to set boundaries on your personal space and time. You don't have to make the first time you hang out with your husband and his girlfriend be a public appearance at a crowded party. You don't have to be okay with hearing them have sex, now or ever. Take care of yourself so you can take care of those around you.

There's a kind of calm that comes from believing you can handle a situation, even one you haven't faced before, and that calm increases your competence. This effect is called self-efficacy. Trying new things—like writing a book, or exploring polyamory—involves learning new skills, and research shows that key to learning new skills is simply believing you can learn them. Self-efficacy in poly relationships is the feeling that you can make it through your wife's first date. That you'll figure out a way to manage your jealousy, even if you don't know how yet.

Eve has called this kind of time the "dark night of the soul" moment. Unless you are truly exceptional, you will experience it at some point, usually early on. Maybe your partners are struggling. Maybe you're tired of fighting your inner demons. And this is when it really matters whether you've committed, with all your heart and soul, to being poly. If you don't commit, if you aren't ready for that dark night of the soul, and you back away in fear when it comes, then you and people you love are going to get very hurt.

In poly relationships, the need for security tends to play out in two ways. First, we can be tempted to seek security by placing controls on our partners. Whether it's limiting a partner's access to other people to build our sense of security against being replaced, or restricting our partner's range of action with others to make ourselves feel safe, we can be lured by a feeling that if we can just get our partners to do what we want, we will feel secure.

An important skill in creating happy poly relationships involves learning to see other lovers, particularly a partner's other lovers, as people who make life better for both of you rather than a hazard to be managed.

Compassion is not politeness, and isn't even the same as kindness. It's not doing good deeds for someone while quietly judging them! Compassion engages your whole person, and it requires vulnerability, which is part of what makes it so hard. We have to be able to allow ourselves to be present as an equal with another person, recognize the darkness in them and accept it—and that forces us to embrace, as well, the darkness within ourselves.

Passive communication refers to communicating through subtext, avoiding direct statements, and looking for hidden meanings. Passive communicators may use techniques such as asking questions or making vague, indirect statements in place of stating needs, preferences or boundaries. Directly asking for what you want creates vulnerability, and passive communication often comes from a desire to avoid this vulnerability. Passive communication also offers plausible deniability; if we state a desire for something indirectly, and we don't get it, it's easy to claim we didn't really want it. Stating our needs means standing up for them and taking the risk that others may not agree to meet them. One way this happens is by couching desires as questions: "Would you like to go out for Thai food tonight?" (Or worse, "Don't you think it's been a long time since we went out for dinner?") To a passive communicator, such a statement can be a coded way to say, "I would like to go out for Thai food tonight." The problem is, a direct communicator might naturally hear only what was said and give a direct answer: "No, I don't really feel like going out tonight." This can leave the passive communicator feeling disregarded; she might end up thinking, He never pays attention to my needs! when, to the direct communicator, no request was stated; he was asked how he felt. The direct communicator might end up thinking, "She never asks for what she wants. She expects me to read her mind! If she wanted to...

Worse, we are predisposed to view all other people's motives less charitably than our own. Research has shown that we tend to explain our own behavior in terms of the situation we're in, while we believe the behavior of others goes directly to their character. When asked why we cut someone else off in traffic, we might say, "I was looking the other way and didn't see him," but when asked why someone else cut us off in traffic, we are more likely to say, "She's obviously a reckless driver who doesn't care about anyone else on the road." (Sociologists often refer to this as the "fundamental attribution error.") In polyamorous relationships, as you might imagine, this behavior can get pretty ugly. When we tell ourselves stories about other people, we tend to run with those stories, rather than what the other people say about the matter. Of course so-and-so says he isn't trying to separate me from my partner; that's exactly what he wants me to believe! We propose a radical strategy to deal with what people say: In the absence of concrete evidence to the contrary, believe them.

A subtle sort of coercion arises any time you believe that your partner owes you something. For example, if you think your partner owes you intimacy, and you are just "expressing your feelings" about what you're owed, there's a good chance you're being coercive. If your partner says no, and you start preparing for a fight instead of accepting their choice, you're probably being coercive. If your partner sets a boundary or says no to a request, she probably has a good reason. That reason might not even be about you. It's important to respect a no even when you don't understand it. Show appreciation for your partner's self-advocacy and self-knowledge, be grateful for the intimacy she has shown you, and make it clear that you respect her autonomy and ability to make choices—even if you don't understand what's happening or why.

You listen intently to what the other person is saying, rather than using that time to think about the next thing you want to say. Then you repeat back to the other person what they have just said to you—in your own words, so that they know you understood. Then you trade roles. Because a need to be heard and understood is at the root of many interpersonal conflicts, active listening can go a long way toward defusing intense situations, even when a solution is not yet apparent.

Being direct in your speech means saying plainly what you think and asking plainly for what you need. It requires identifying what you want, then clearly and simply asking for it—not dropping hints or talking around the need. You assume that your partner will take your words at face value, without searching for hidden intent. You convey your meaning in the words you use, not in side channels such as posture, tone or body language.

Direct listening starts from the premise that if your partner wants something, she will ask for it. You need to resist the impulse to infer a judgment, desire or need that's not explicitly stated. You assume that if your partner does not bring up an issue, she has no issue, and is not just being polite. Conversely, if she brings up an issue, she's not doing it to be confrontational or impolite, but to discuss it. You do not look for veiled intent, particularly veiled criticism, especially when talking about emotional or contentious matters.

Asking for what we need, rather than what we think might be available, is kind to our partners, because it communicates what we want authentically—as long as we are ready to hear a no. Asking for what we want isn't the same thing as "pressuring" someone, as long as the other person can say no and we can accept it.

Be okay if the answer to your request is no. The difference between asking and demanding is what happens if the answer is no. If you're not okay with hearing a no, then you are demanding.

Take a deep breath from time to time and remind yourself that your lover is your partner, not the enemy. Enemies fight; partners work together toward a common good.

There's one more prerequisite for communication to succeed. It has to be safe for another person to communicate with you. We all want our partners to be honest with us. At the same time, nobody likes to hear bad news. From ancient empires to modern boardrooms, bearers of bad tidings have paid the price for delivering messages distasteful to the recipient's ears. Even in ordinary day-to-day conversations, there are all kinds of ways we can make it dangerous for others to say what we don't want to hear.

Things will go wrong. You and your partners will make mistakes. People will get hurt. To paraphrase Voltaire, we are all born of frailty and error. What happens afterward depends on how capable we are to forgive one another for our errors, handle the consequences with grace and dignity, and learn from our mistakes.

Is jealousy an intrinsic part of human nature? Some folks say yes, some no. We say it doesn't matter. We feel what we feel, but there is a difference between jealous feelings and jealous actions. Regardless of the origin of jealous feelings, the actions we take are within our control. Jealous feelings come from a sense of loss, or a fear of it. Jealous actions are usually attempts to take back control over the things we're afraid of. For example, if you feel jealous when your partner has sex with her new partner in the Monkey with Lotus Blossom and Chainsaw position, you might be afraid that you're losing something special: "That's

our position! What if this new person handles the chainsaw better than I do? What does she need me for, now that she's found someone else to do this with?" The jealous action might be to say, "I don't want you to have sex with anyone but me in this position," which is an attempt to deal with the fear by taking back control. "If she stops doing this, I won't feel replaced anymore!" At least until the next threatening thing comes along. These kinds of actions don't create safety or security. Rather, safety and security come from knowing that your partner loves, trusts and values you. Putting controls on your partner's behavior doesn't tell you how she loves, trusts and values you. It does exactly the opposite—restrictions undermine intimacy by telling your partner that you don't trust her: you don't believe her affection is genuine.

Keeping score Keeping score will drive you insane. Don't do it. If you start counting the nights (or dollars) spent together, the sexual acts engaged in, the hours on the phone or anything else of value, to compare it with what you're getting, believe us when we say that no good can come of this. You may be somewhat reassured if you come out ahead, but all keeping score will do is make you, your partners and their partners crazy and bitter without meeting the needs you're trying to get met.

Taken to its conclusion, keeping score creates a relationship where people don't state their needs: they barter for what they want, using other people as the bartering chips. And this is a way of treating people as things.

Do I feel that most other people are sexier, more good-looking, more worthwhile, funnier, smarter or just generally better than I am, and I am not able to compete with them?

Do I think that if my partner falls in love with with another person, he will leave me for that person?

Do I think that if my partner has sex with someone "better in bed" than I am, she won't want to have sex with me anymore or won't need me anymore?

Is sex the glue that holds our relationship together? If my partner has sex with someone else, do I think the...

Do I believe that other people are willing to do sexual things that I'm not willing to do, and therefore my partner will...

Am I afraid that if my partner has sex with someone else, she will start comparing...

Am I afraid that anyone my partner has sex with will try to persu...

When we tell another person, "Don't say or do things that upset me," we are not setting boundaries; we are trying to manage people whom we have already let too far over our boundaries. If we make others responsible for our own emotions, we introduce coercion into the relationship, and coercion erodes consent.

I will choose the level of closeness I want with my partners' other partners, subject to their consent.

When you feel that you "need" a relationship, you may become afraid to raise your voice and assert the other things you need. It's hard to set boundaries in a relationship you feel you can't live without, because setting boundaries means admitting there are things that might end your relationship.

Unfortunately, boundaries are not transitive: the work Peter had done to become comfortable with me and Ray did not translate into my being equally comfortable with Peter and Clio.

We soon scuttled that last one, as I grew more comfortable and Peter and Clio's relationship deepened. I relaxed many of the others too, over time. (Now an empty condom wrapper on the floor elicits an eye-roll and smirk, at most.) They were crucial, though, in the early days of Peter and Clio's relationship, as my emotions struggled to catch up with my rational mind.

With such a compromise, it's reasonable to question whether "spending time with the kids" has become a proxy for "I want a monogamous relationship, so I'm using concerns about the children as a pretext."

Even in perfectly healthy relationships, people can change. What was okay last year may not be okay today. When relationships are good, they make us better, they make our lives bigger, and it's easy to forget about our boundaries, because there is no reason to enforce them. Yet when communication erodes, when trust comes into question, when we feel out of control or deeply unhappy and then we try to set a boundary, the experience can be terrifying.

You always have a right to regulate access to what is yours. But by the time the boundaries of your self have become blurred with those of your partner, setting boundaries and defining your self feels like taking something away from her that she had come to regard as hers.

There are many signs of a harmful relationship dynamic, but the most unmistakable one is fear. Why am I so afraid in this relationship when there's no imminent physical danger? If you find you are asking yourself this question, check your boundaries. Do you know where they are? How much power have you given to others to affect your well-being, your self-esteem, even your desire to live? Remember, when you give someone the power to affect you and to come into your mind, you are only loaning what belongs to you. If you are afraid, you have given too much. When you look forward, do you see choices? Is leaving the relationship a viable option? Is changing the relationship a viable option? Is setting new boundaries an option? What happens if you say no?

Access to another person's body and mind is a privilege, not a right. Nobody should ever be punished for expressing a boundary or for revoking consent.

We can't, though, guarantee to a partner that we'll never develop a mental health issue in the future. When this happens, it is certainly reasonable to ask your partner for help and support. But remember that your romantic partner is not your therapist. Expecting a partner to play that role is likely to place a heavy burden on your partner and the relationship, and unlikely to help you overcome serious issues. Talking to a qualified mental health professional is far more likely to succeed.

("How can we help make sure I understand how I am valued by you?"),

When rules are used as a tool with which to attack someone's character—especially when the attacks are based on creative interpretations of the rules—they become a nearly invisible but extremely corrosive form of emotional abuse.

It's incredibly easy to fall into prioritizing the rules of a relationship over the happiness of the people involved. We believe it's important to remember the ethical axiom: The people in the relationship are more important than the relationship. Sacrificing the happiness of human beings in the service of rules, rather than making rules that serve the needs of the people, takes us further away from joyful, fulfilling lives, not closer to them.

"Are they honest? Are they necessary? Are they kind? Are they respectful? Are they considerate of others?"

"Would I have become involved with my current partner if I were bound by these agreements at the start?"