Polyfidelity: Happily Ever After?

This morning at Travis's, wandering naked from the bedroom to the kitchen, I discovered something interesting on the coffee table: Loving More: The Polyfidelity Primer, by Ryam Nearing.

“Hey Travis, what's with the book?” I asked, knowing that he most likely hadn't picked it up for himself. “Have you actually read it?'

“Nope, never read it. I ran across it when I was moving stuff over here, and thought you might want to take a look,” he said. “Sallie must have given it to me.”

Travis and Sallie have been close friends for more than twenty years. They started out as boyfriend-girlfriend, but after living with each other for about five years, their relationship transitioned into friendship. Travis and I initially met through Sallie, actually – it's a bizarre story, which I'll save for some other time.

I've long maintained that polyfidelity is basically a contradiction in terms. I've never understood why anyone who identifies as poly would choose to be in a closed marriage of any kind, even one in which there were more than two people.

So I went back to bed, book in hand, curious to see what this Ryam Nearing person had to say.

Nearing defines polyfidelity by describing the form it takes: “a group in which all partners are primary to all other partners and sexual fidelity is to the group; shared intent of a lifelong run together” (p.10).

Perhaps not surprisingly, polyfidelity is then held up as “the highest evolution of the sound ideals of individual choice, voluntary cooperation, a healthy family life, and positive romantic love” (p.26).

My own relationship style, which Nearing calls “open coupling,” is apparently less than ideal, although it can be tempting to try it at first, because it's “a smaller and therefore easier step for most people to take in moving beyond a one-to-one closed partnership” (p. 58).

Wow: watch those polyfidelitous black-belts go! Look at that nifty relationship pretzel they just made! No loose ends anywhere! I only wish I were that advanced!”

Oh, please.

To be fair, Nearing does give a pretty spot-on critique of what is perhaps the biggest problem with open coupling. I'll quote some of what s/he says on this topic:

“Equality in relationships is an important value for those choosing polyfidelity. From either side, as the primary in an open couple or as a secondary relating to them, the difference in status simply feels uncomfortable....Short term, while first getting involved with an outside lover, the secondary status is easy and feels right. But as the relationship develops in intensity, tough questions arise. If your primary partner is always the highest relationship priority, how does it feel to give less to your other lover?

“...As someone's secondary, what does it do to your self-esteem, long-term, to always have to make your plans after your lover and his partner have finalized theirs? How does it feel to have her go 'home' time after time to someplace other than your place? ...[T]he inequality factor becomes virtually abhorrent, if not at the start, then after some difficult and heart-wrenching dramas unfold” (p. 59).

Aye, there's the rub. All very pertinent, too, given the discussions Travis and I have been having lately about what he's going to do when Parker and I move to the Northwest in June. Travis has said he doesn't want to be “like an Army whore, picking up my skirts and following you every time you decide to pull up stakes” – but the prospect of a long-distance relationship isn't attractive to either of us. What to do? The worst thing, Travis says, is that he feels like he is “alone” in his decision-making process – that Parker and I have our plans, which weren't made with Travis in mind, and now he's got to figure out how he's going to deal with a change that feels like it's being imposed on him.

A long-term solution is probably going to involve a shift in the group dynamic, toward a structure that feels more balanced. Perhaps, over time, Travis will become more integrated into my family; or perhaps he'll find his own “primary” partner, while keeping me as his “secondary”; or perhaps he and his new partner will join me and Parker and we'll form a blissfully balanced four-sided shape of some kind. But whatever the solution, I know one thing: it won't involve polyfidelity.

I can't see myself voluntarily pledging sexual or emotional fidelity to anyone – not to a person, not to a group of people, not ever. I'm not a person to promise something I can't deliver.

A locked door doesn't make me feel secure, it makes me feel claustrophobic. I'll happily stay in the house all day, as long as I know I can explore the great outdoors whenever I choose. But if I have to promise to stay at home, to forgo the company of outside visitors, I immediately start chafing to get out, neurotically pacing the length of my cage like a panther at the zoo.

Being open to people and possibilities, getting to make new discoveries about myself and others, allowing love to grow organically, accepting that I don't have complete control over my life, and cultivating the flexibility I need in order to weather changes gracefully – these, to me, are fundamental values. In other words, I chose a polyamorous lifestyle because it meets my need for openness.

In my mind, polyfidelity represents the worst of both worlds: you've got all the restrictions of monogamy (albeit with more people in your closed “marriage”) and all the drama and inherent instability of non-monogamy.

What's more, polyfidelity is not going to solve the underlying problem of inequality that arises whenever a relationship structure moves beyond that of a closed dyad. (Note that couples in traditional marriages spend a lot of time arguing about perceived unfairness in their relationship; adding other people into the mix just means that there are more people constantly evaluating who's getting the better deal and who's getting shafted....)

It doesn't matter how vociferously Ryam Nearing defends the idea that, in polyfidelity, all partners are valued equally. The fact is that some relationships will be stronger than others; some dyads will experience a more compelling connection than other dyads in the group. The group dynamics are going to suit some people better than others. Some people are going to get along peaceably and others are going to get into power struggles. And friction between any two people in such a group will have ripple effects on all the other relationships: everyone is going to get drawn in to the drama, like it or not.

Finally, the whole polyfidelitous endeavor seems so artificial to me. I don't have anything against intentional communities. I live in one, and I love it. But my co-housing community isn't a commune (there's no partner swapping, and no shared finances except insofar as each family must contribute to the maintenance of our common property), and it certainly isn't closed: people are free to come and go. There's no vetting process of any kind. 

In contrast, people who choose polyfidelity have a whole long list of requirements, things they're looking for in a potential partner. They're out there in cyberspace beating the bushes, often in vain, for the person(s) who will complete whatever vision of the “perfect family” they've concocted – I've seen their advertisements on sites like PolyMatchmaker, and I always have to roll my eyes. It's a more ridiculous version of what happens when a single person decides it's time to get married, without having anyone in particular in mind.

It goes like this: you've scripted out your play (let's call it “Happily Ever After”), decided on the role(s) available, and now you just have to put together your cast. So, you put out a casting call, and, assuming that anyone comes to audition, you evaluate the hopeful(s) against your checklist of criteria. This method is notoriously ineffective for single people looking for true love, and I'll bet that it's even less likely to succeed when multiple people must be equally thrilled by, and equally willing to commit to, the brave (or foolhardy) soul who shows up to audition for the part.

Ultimately, polyfidelity is very similar to monogamy. It seems to be largely about achieving and maintaining security. There's nothing wrong or ignoble in that aim. I too have a desire to build relationships that are going to last, to find a sustainable group dynamic. But "sustainable" is not the same thing as "static."  

The idea that you can create the perfect structure, and then just make sure that it stays that way, seems awfully naive to me.  Human relationships take place over time, against the backdrop of all kinds of changes in circumstance; they are works in progress, and there's no "happily ever after" guarantee.  A pledge of fidelity has always been a flimsy barricade against uncertainty and loss. And if you're counting on more than one person to hold that line, chances are pretty high that you or someone you love is going to fall from grace.