Chapter 1: Introduction (Be Vulnerable)
By: Kayla Murphy
Tags: Sex, Marriage, Relationships, Polyamory, Love

I didn’t know what to expect moving away from home the first time. But the first thing I noticed was the farther we got from home, the more the color faded away.

As we drove down The Alaskan-Canadian highway with our entire lives packed into our poor little Honda Fit, things started to get darker. The trees began to disappear as we drove the last of Canada. Gone was our straight little two-line highway; the roads began to multiply. Two lanes became four, and roads became bridges that wound in all different directions. The beautiful sky we were used to, with its fluffy clouds and starry nights, hardened to a dull, sad grey.

The first night in our new place, we ate tomato soup for the seventh day in a row on a cardboard box that was turned upside-down on the floor. We had no jobs waiting, $45,000 due in student loans, and had exactly $3,000.

It gets better, right? I asked him. I was staring at the boxes surrounding us, wondering how my life felt so small.

The most talented chef I had ever met looked at our gross canned tomato soup on our sad little box. And then he looked at me, and he laughed.

The only thing we’ve got is each other. he said. There’s no way but up, babe.

We didn’t know where we belonged, but we knew we had each other. And that was a good start.

I found soon that city people were different than our hometown. We were used to strangers with warm hearts. If your car got stuck in a snowstorm, someone was sure to stop by with a shovel. I have friends back home who still drive around every winter and look for people to dig out of the ditch.

But the city… the city was different. People were hardened and grey, just like the weather. About a year after moving, I walked past a crying woman on the street without even asking if she was okay. When I realized it, I was ashamed of myself. My small-town mindset of smiling at strangers was dropped somewhere downtown after I realized that, instead of kindness, it was taken as an invitation for lewd remarks.

But while we felt less love from the people, we also felt more freedom to be who we wanted to.

Even the friendliest hearts shunned us in our small town when we came out as polyamorous…

So… you’re cheating.

Why did you bother getting married?

Don’t you get jealous? I couldn’t do that.

But you’re going to settle down eventually, right?

…and every assumption made about our relationship felt like a stab to the heart. At least in our big open city, no one seemed to care.

Most of the questions were understandable. Even the hurtful ones. (Aren’t you being kind of greedy?) After all, if you have an alternative lifestyle, it’s kind to educate those who don’t understand what’s going on. Everyone starts somewhere.

So I could deal with the questions. They were like little pricks from safety pins; kind of a pain, but I hoped something good would come from my patience. It was the reactions from people that stabbed me like sewing needles. It hurt to see the disgusted expressions they would get for a fraction of a second before catching themselves. Many of my female friends assumed we just wanted sex from them and disappeared without a word. It was as if I was no longer a person because I felt the need to be emotionally open with multiple people.

Other girls we knew strung both of us along for weeks, months, or years, because they loved the attention we gave them. We were teased with ideas of threesomes, and drunk makeout sessions that had promises of more eventually made me feel foolish and stupid. They made me look as if I had expectations, because I was often the only one who remembered the night before.

I fell in love with a couple of those girls along the way. Those hurt more than sewing needles.

I lost many of my college friends who were men, because as they found long-term relationships, the women felt threatened. I remember a specific time where K, one of my closest friends, got a girlfriend that I made sure to spend one-on-one time with. His friendship was important to me, and I wanted him to be happy. She made it clear my relationship status made her uncomfortable, even though K and I were only friends; she didn’t even allow him to spend time with other women without her.

I spent months trying to befriend her. He would send me long text messages about how he didn’t want to lose my friendship, but she made it hard. She would yell at him if he invited me out. She would read the text messages him and I had, searching for a reason to cut me out. Eventually, I tried to talk to her.

“Z, you seem kind of uncomfortable around me. I’m really happy you two found each other and I would love to be friends with you. Can we talk about it?”

“There’s nothing to talk about. I’m fine.”

I saw him less and less. She would either cling to his hand with a death grip, or refuse to look at him at all until I left.

By this time, I wasn’t surprised when people disappeared on me. I had realized by this point that I had done nothing wrong. They were either driven away because it made them uncomfortable, or all of my friendships simply went sour. There was too much drama, and I just wanted affection.

It took us a very short amount of time to know we wanted to have this kind of relationship. It took a very long time to be able to understand why we wanted to do this together, and why we wouldn’t give up on each other.

I’m sure at this point, it doesn’t sound like a type of relationship worth fighting for, but I can tell you that I have never been happier, or felt closer to anyone, than I do with him.

I’ve given you a peek into the hard times first for a reason. The biggest assumption about polyamory is that it’s only about sex. There are a few that hold up to that standard; I’ve met the people who use it as an excuse to hook up with no strings attached.

Those people disgust me, and I’m often assumed to be one of them.

There are many other assumptions: that it’s for people who can’t commit, for people who are greedy and manipulative, for people who can’t hold down a serious relationship. And I’ve met those people too.

But polyamory is also taken seriously. It’s for those of us who are affectionate. It’s for those of us who have found it can be a way to keep the sex alive in a long-term relationship, or for those of us who fall easily for others and refuse to lose a relationship that could be fulfilling, healthy, and full, just because we already have one that is satisfying in a completely different way. Some use it to mask sexual addictions. Others feel that the lifestyle simply chose them.

I can’t tell you why anyone else has chosen this lifestyle. But I can tell you why I did.

Allowing myself to love other people means that I have continued to grow and learn as a person, and I constantly have knowledge to sprinkle into my marriage. Allowing him to love others, after the first few times, gave me the confidence that he will always come back at the end of the day.

At first, there was jealousy. Jealousy is manipulative and stressful, but it’s also okay. It stems from a very natural fear of abandonment, insecurity, and anxiety. It lets us know when something — or someone — is important to us.

I used to shut down when I felt threatened and anxious. I would shut down if I wasn’t getting enough affection. I would wrap my arms around my legs and curl into a ball. I hoped if I curled up tight enough the feeling of insecurity would disappear. Since then, I have learned to hold down my emotions when they make me defensive and look at them objectively. Instead of slamming bedroom doors because he’s gone on a date with a girl who’s prettier than me, I’m able to tell him, “I’m feeling threatened and I need reassurance that you still are happy with me. Can we talk about our relationship?”

Why does it get easier? Because if you gain enough strength, your emotions are trainable.

There are many reasons why I choose this lifestyle: I knew early on I was capable of loving more than one person. He works long hours, and my emotional needs need lots of affection. It feels normal to me to hug and cuddle and kiss my platonic friends. I like variety. I want to keep feeling the honeymoon phase. I have different sexual needs than he does. The reasons change with my priorities and my age. But here is one belief I’ve always held true: it is important to stand your ground. It’s important to know what you need emotionally to be happy, and it’s important to be able to communicate those needs to others.

If you can’t make yourself happy, why in the hell would someone else want to?

The secret to happiness is not control. It is strength. When I say strength, I don’t mean when he loses his temper and hits her. I don’t mean when she screams at him until she wins the argument.

If you know your spouse is in a loving relationship with another individual because it helps their own needs, and you can communicate calmly about it, that is having emotional strength. Calling him names, raising your voice, or becoming defensive and spiteful comes from an insecure personality.

And honestly, there’s nothing less attractive.

But if you can talk about how you feel while understanding what they need from you? That is strength. No one can take that away from your relationship.

If you’re able to talk about why you’re feeling upset, you’re on the right track. If you’re on my level and you can watch your husband fuck another woman and enjoy it, you’ve got the world by the balls right now, and there is nothing holding you back from your own happiness.

Life’s too short to accept anything less.