Supporting Your Partner through a Breakup

Image courtesy of Anant Nath Sharma

Nobody likes breaking up. It just sucks, whether you're doing the dumping or you're the one getting dumped.

Or if you're neither.

If you're poly, chances are eventually you'll be with someone who is going through a breakup with someone else. How do you handle that?

First, and most importantly, take care of yourself. Breakups are hard, and affect not only the people breaking up but many people around them too. You're going to feel all kinds of things, some of them unexpected, and many of them unpleasant. Make time to get in touch with what you're feeling. Talk to friends who can support you. Accept your feelings as valid, no matter what they are. Find ways to reinstate calm, peace, and love when you find they're missing.

Second, take care of your partner. If you've ever gone through a breakup, you know how awful it is. Do what you can to be there for them. Remind them that they are loved. If you know the things your partner especially likes, do them. For example, if your partner enjoys cuddling, make sure every date includes cuddles. If they really like your spaghetti sauce recipe, spend a night in and serve it to them as a treat. As often as you can, create a safe space for them to relax and feel loved. Be gentle with them when you disagree.

Keep in mind that they will act in new and possibly unpleasant ways. They may be unusually sad or angry. They may pick fights with you over small things. They may cancel dates or reschedule at the last minute. Try not to take it personally. They are grieving the loss of a relationship. Your patience and understanding will be appreciated as they heal.

Possibly the most difficult of all: try not to berate the partner they are breaking up with. This can prove nearly impossible, especially if you witness their pain at the other person's hands. You may feel like you're helping by villifying their former partner, but you're not. Your partner doesn't need to hear how bad their ex is; they likely spend half their time thinking that anyway (and the other half missing that person). Instead, anytime you're tempted to badmouth their newest ex, tell your partner instead how special they are to you, and how much you care for them.

Also, don't interfere. Your partner is an adult capable of making their own decisions. Perhaps they decide to have a last night together with their ex after the breakup. Perhaps they are discussing getting back together with their ex. Maybe they want to try counseling to work out their differences. In any case, your job is not to tell your partner what to do, or to try to make it so that they have no choice. Even if you think that person was terrible for them, respect your partner's choice. You are, of course, entitled to share with them any concerns you may have about their ex. But once you've stated your piece, be done with it. Your partner has heard you. The relationship is between them and their ex, and not about you.

It's going to be hard. You and your partner will both experience pain, sadness, and anger. Accept your own emotions, and those of your partner, even if they seem strange. With time those feelings will pass, and your partner will be glad that you were there for them when they needed you.

Join My Email List!

I'll have some new content for you soon, I promise. In the meantime, did you know I've added an email subscription? If you like the blog, feel free to join the email list. You'll never get any spam from me, only new posts that you can read right in your email. Never miss an entry! Just enter your email in the box to the right of this post, and you'll get new content in your inbox anytime it's posted. Thanks for reading!

Glossary Added!

I got tired of explaining the terms unique to poly every time I used them, so I've added a glossary! Feel free to look it over and let me know if I've missed anything (I'm certain I have).

Living in the Background

Image courtesy of Paolo

I practice what is known as solo polyamory: I don't live with my partners, I don't share money or property with them, I don't have children with them, etc. In short, my relationships don't look, to the traditional, monogamous world, like serious, committed relationships, even though they are.

My partners, however, do have relationships like this. Both of my boyfriends have what is often called a primary partner: someone who fits some or all of the above descriptions.

This means that, quite often, the picture they present to the rest of the world doesn't include me. People who think they know my partners well have no idea I exist. People's assumptions about what must be true based on what they see in my partners' lives leave no room for me.

This can be incredibly challenging. Imagine how you would feel if someone who knows your husband/wife/boyfriend/girlfriend would be not only surprised to find you exist, but shocked and suspicious as well. My relationships with my partners could threaten many things in their lives, from their incomes to their homes to their other romantic relationships.

It takes a tremendous amount of effort to be "out": not only is the risk significant (people have lost jobs, homes, and children because of it) but it takes a lot of work to overcome the assumptions most of society makes about romantic relationships. Even if people who know my partners see me with them, they will most likely conclude, unless told otherwise, that my partners' other relationships have ended, rather than that we all love multiple people. Although explanation can overcome this, there is a risk of upsetting and alienating the person you explain yourself to. Further, sometimes you just want to have a nice dinner out and not discuss the complexities of your personal life, you know?

I know my partners don't try to keep me hidden. I know they love me and value their relationships with me. But that makes it no less difficult to see, over and over, public support for their relationships with their other partners, and not for their relationships with me.

And the worst thing is, you can never escape being part of this system. If you have a primary partner, people see that relationship and no others. If you don't, people don't see your relationships as "real." Our society just doesn't accept people who aren't coupled up. Even if I did have a primary partner, I'd still encounter these same problems with the other people I date.

My partners and I are open within the poly community, with folks who understand that we love many people. I truly value the support of other poly people more than I can ever express. And, because I am out to everyone I know, people in my circles outside the poly community know I have multiple partners.

But there are no groups my partners associate with who see their relationships with me as equal to their relationships with their other partners. Outside of a few people my partners feel can be trusted, I am, at best, not really discussed, and, at worst, actively kept secret.

I try not to let it get to me, but sometimes I can't help it. I don't find fault with my boyfriends for not making me more visible. I do understand what a colossal effort that is, and just how hard it is to integrate it into life. I just wish the world understood us better, and that my existence didn't require risk and explanation.

Revisiting Jealousy: Is "Getting Over It" the Best Idea?

Photo courtesy of Greg Westfall

Lots of advice in the poly blogosphere has to do with jealousy. It's typically one of the first questions we poly folk get asked when discussing our relationship styles with people unfamiliar with the concept, and it's a common stumbling block for many people in committed relationships, both poly and monogamous.

We've all felt it: that stinging, unhappy bite of a thought that says, "But why isn't it me?"

It's not just romantic partners who get jealous of each other. We feel jealousy toward our siblings, our friends, our coworkers, strangers we've never met but whose success we hear about. It's a common human emotion, and there's even research to suggest it doesn't belong uniquely to us.

Yet most of the advice you'll hear about jealousy tends to imply that you should try not to feel it so much. Or that it isn't real, but only a manifestation of some other emotion, like anger or sadness. Hell, even I am guilty of giving this very advice.

Yet I'm starting to wonder if it's wrong.

The study I linked to above, regarding jealousy in dogs, suggests that jealousy is a normal emotion, and a natural consequence of feeling emotionally attached to someone or something. It's not an expression of anger or insecurity or anything else. It's just itself. It seems, also, to be rooted not in insecurity, as many have suggested, but rather in emotional closeness and bonding.

We typically don't feel jealous toward strangers who have nothing to do with us, even if we're quite obviously anxious, insecure, and angry. Jealousy arises when something we feel emotionally close to, such as a partner, a parent, or a dream job is being shared or entirely taken by someone else. "This is supposed to be mine," our brains tell us. "Why does that other person get to have it?"

If you're a dog lover, you've watched this happen when you brought home a new puppy and introduced her to your older dog. For several days, the older dog growled defensively whenever the puppy came near, and snapped at her viciously when she got within reach. You had to keep them separated to keep her safe.

But you slowly kept putting her in front of him, and he began to warm up to her, until finally they cuddled up to sleep next to you on the couch. You breathed a sigh of relief, knowing they'd be okay together now. Right?

Human jealousy, I think, works much the same way. When first confronted with a partner's new partner, we instinctively balk. We become possessive. We poly people usually try to talk ourselves through it, alone or with our partners and friends. Of course, we sometimes behave badly, trying to control our partners' behavior and reduce our exposure to situations that inspire our jealousy. But our partners continue having good experiences with other people, and eventually the jealous instinct fades until it's gone entirely.

I posit that it's this repeated exposure that reduces jealousy, not any late-night discussions of our personal fears and insecurities. Like the old dog learning to accept the new puppy, we find that, with time, we just feel less bad about the other people in our lovers' lives.

Thus, I also posit that it's okay just to feel jealous and not try to stop it. Do not, of course, act on it. Jealousy constantly tells you to do very stupid things, like have sex with someone you're not interested in just to spite your partner, or forbid your partner to see the object of your jealousy, or spread nasty rumors about that person. It is supremely important that you don't do the things your jealousy tells you to do. But not to feel it at all? That's lunacy.

Maybe, instead, just feel it. Recognize it. Understand it. Know you will feel it again. And again. And again. And eventually, you'll feel it less, until you don't feel it anymore.

I'm not sure any of this is even true. I could be entirely wrong. What have your experiences been?

Living in a Culture of Consent

Image courtesy of Spread the Health

This past weekend, a man killed several people, both men and women, because he was angry no one had ever "given him" sex. (I am not using his name because I have no desire to elevate him to a celebrity for his actions.) This event sparked a tremendous Twitter trend, #YesAllWomen, by which women shared their stories of rape, abuse, and harassment. Feminists shouted. People who had not been feminists became feminists. People cried, and railed, and gnashed their teeth. "We hate this culture," they declared, "but what can we do?"

While this was all going on, I was blissfully unaware, spending my time out of phone and wifi range at a regional burn, similar to Burning Man. I experienced firsthand what it's like to live in consent culture, and I want you to know about it.

The night of the effigy burn, emotions ran high. It was difficult not to feel a deep and abiding love, not only for your closest friends and relatives, but for everyone you met who was part of your experience. Hugging was, well, inevitable.

And yet, for my group at least, consent was consistently requested and given. Friends for years, some spanning decades, asked, "Hug?" before embracing their loved ones. Some felt the desire to be closer, and asked, "May I kiss you?" Even those who had done these things before, even those who had dated, lived together, had sex, etc. Everyone got consent. I was blown away by the beauty of it.

Later that night, I was having sex with my boyfriend in a public place (at a private event, mind you, this was still a legal action). A crowd formed around us, and many people wished to join. My boyfriend and I, however, didn't want anyone else to be inside our experience. These people as well, strangers to us, asked before touching, and respected our denial of consent. One person even asked, "May I watch you from here?" while sitting too close for comfort. He, too, respected our wish to have some space when we told him we'd prefer if he moved a bit farther away.

All of these people, strangers and friends alike, understood when and how to obtain consent, and how to accept the denial of consent. This is consent culture. How, you may wonder, did it come about?

First, we demystified sex. Sex is not the most defining human experience. It is not a goal, but an act. It can be deeply meaningful and emotional, but it need not be. We believe and practice this, encouraging sexual expression, discouraging myths about "purity," and refusing to engage in shaming over someone else's sexual choices. Sex is a thing people do, like eating and sleeping. We recognize that we all do it, so it really can't be that special. When we make it another part of the human experience, rather than the greatest part, we remove the taboo about it so that we can actually talk about it.

Second, we repeatedly discuss personal boundaries and consent. We praise each other for setting good boundaries ("I don't really like hugs; would you like a handshake instead?" "Of course! Thanks for making that clear.") and for obtaining consent before crossing someone else's boundaries ("I would love a hug; thank you for asking!). When someone does violate boundaries (yes, it happens, we're not perfect) we go over why their behavior was unacceptable and how they can change it in the future. We discuss consent and boundaries with the children of our community, so that they understand how to respect them long before they become sexually active.

We intervene when we see someone violate a boundary, even if it isn't ours. "Hey, I know you're friends, but you really need to ask before you pick her up like that." When people respond by saying that it's okay and they do this all the time, we remind them that others see the example they're setting and follow it, and modeling consent is a practice we want to encourage. We don't take offense when someone points out our mistakes about consent, even when it's a stranger.

We communicate. Every action I've mentioned above is an act of communication. Discussing boundaries, asking for consent, calling out nonconsensual behavior, educating each other—these are all about communication. Talking with each other about sex and personal agency is the only way to change the culture.

Also, you will notice I've included hugging, kissing, and other forms of touching in this conversation about consent. Consent, remarkably, is not about sex. It is about personal agency and having control over what happens to your body. Consent for a hug is just as important as consent for sex. A culture of consent focuses on each individual having total say in what happens to their body at all times, not just when clothes come off.

Consent culture is learned. I may seem like a guru now, well versed in requesting and giving consent, but only three years ago I failed to realize I had been raped. I didn't understand consent well enough to recognize that my lack of consent meant the sex people forced on me was rape. I had to learn what consent was, how to ask for it, and how to give it, how to deny it, and how to accept denial of consent, just like anyone else. I learned these things in my thirties. It's never too late.

If I can learn this much about consent in this little time, imagine what we can do together! Let's stop wringing our hands and wishing the world were better, and start actually making it so.

Talk to each other. Practice giving and receiving consent. Recognize your mistakes and apologize for them. Explain consent and agency to your children, and praise them when you see them practice it. Take no offense when consent is denied to you. Thank those who obtain your consent before touching you.

I've written a lot on this blog about consent. Please read it. Please practice it. Please ask if you don't understand.

This is how we move forward. This is how we change.

How to Give a Great Blowjob

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.