Poly FAQ #3: How Do You Decide Who’s Sleeping with Whom?

Since it’s about time for a slightly more light-hearted topic, I thought I’d pander to my readers’ more prurient interests: let’s talk about sex, baby!

When you’ve got more than one sex partner available for your pleasure on any given night, HOW do you decide which one you’re going to favor with your favors?

People ask me this question.  They really do.  Multiple-choice is apparently a real mind-bender. I’d wager that it’s also a favorite fantasy for a fair number of folks: you’re the sultan or sultana, and your entire harem is there at your beck and call, a hundred beautiful specimens lounging around with just one thought in their heads: you.  

I hate to disappoint you, but that’s not the way it really works.

From what I gather, in situations where three or more sexually intimate adults live together, there’s usually some kind of schedule.  Not terribly romantic, but probably necessary. 

In my own situation, it isn’t often that anything like a “decision” presents itself.  I live with Parker, and therefore I sleep with him, unless I have planned in advance to be elsewhere.  These days, I generally spend one or two nights a week at Travis’s house.  In other words, there’s a schedule.

Back when Scott and I were together, he ended up sleeping at my house probably once or twice a month – it was an hour-plus drive between his place and the house I shared with my family, so he’d often elect to stay rather than drive home late at night.  On evenings when there were no specific plans, Scott would typically join us for a family dinner.  Then we’d put Denali to bed, after which Scott and I would often announce that we were “going out for tea,” which was a total euphemism, since what it meant was that we were off to find somewhere to have sex (e.g., the park, my office, the church parking lot, an abandoned barn at the edge of town).  When we returned from our shenanigans, wherever they happened to take place (it’s a miracle we were never caught), Parker would usually be asleep.  I'd tuck Scott into bed (a mattress in the living room), then I’d pad off down the hall to join Parker, since I didn’t want Denali to wake up and find me sleeping somewhere other than where I always slept. 

(It wasn’t that I was concerned about my child knowing that I sometimes slept with Scott, but that I thought it was important for Denali to be able to predict my whereabouts.  So, if Parker and I were both at home, we would eventually end up in bed together, regardless of whether Scott was there or not.  If Parker was gone for the night, and Scott was visiting me, Scott slept in my bed.  If Denali accompanied me for a weekend visit to Scott’s, I slept in Scott’s bed, and Denali slept on the couch in the living room.)

There have been a few instances of “make the call on the spur of the moment,” though.

Once, Scott joined me and my family on a skiing vacation to Tahoe. We were all broke, so we just reserved one big hotel room. None of us knew exactly how to handle the sleeping situation, but we figured it didn’t matter much. Denali was going to be sleeping in the same room, after all, which nixed adult naughtiness, whatever the configuration.

During our après-ski dinner – it was a delicious pizza with white bean sauce, brie, roasted fennel, and apples – some opportunity arose for the placing of bets, I forget what, but I do remember Scott saying to Parker, “Winner gets to sleep with Viny.”  I was kind of tickled.  Parker smiled and said magnanimously, “You can sleep with her – you get to sleep with her less often.”

I thought of that moment a year or two later, when the shoe was on the other foot, and Scott was less than gracious about it.

Parker and I were living in Denmark for a semester abroad, and in the middle of that time, Scott came for an extended visit.  For the first week Scott was there, Parker was away on an architectural tour.  When Parker returned, I was really happy to see him. I’d missed him, and I wanted a chance to reconnect, especially since Scott and I would be leaving the next day for a trip to Amsterdam. I told Scott I wanted to spend the night with Parker, and Scott grudgingly acceded to my wishes.  The next morning, though, he was a little shit about it: “I didn’t sleep all night,” he complained, “Did you have to torture me? Why were you having sex at 3 in the morning?”  Never mind that Parker and I’d had sex quietly at 11, and were both sound asleep when Scott was spinning stories about every noise he thought he heard emanating from the bedroom. 

One more “musical beds” story, and I’ll call it quits for today.

Last summer, Lilianna and I attended a conference together in San Francisco, and we shared a hotel room with one double bed.  For the last two nights of our stay, Parker, Denali, and Sienna joined us at the hotel, and the room Parker’d reserved had two double beds.  So there were a total of three adults, two children, and three double beds.  It was like a GRE logic question.

It was pretty obvious that the kids would be in the bigger room, with Denali in his own bed and Sienna in her little travel crib.  Parker and I could have taken the other double bed in that room, but what actually ended up happening was that I slept in the room with the kids, while Parker slept with Lilianna in her room.

Here’s how that decision was made.

The kids were asleep in their room, two doors down.  Parker and Lilianna were in the room I had been sharing with her, talking -- which meant they were lying on the bed, since there wasn’t space to be anywhere else.  I was out in the lobby having a fraught conversation on the phone with my mother.  It had recently come to her attention that I’d found out about certain less-than-accepting comments she'd made to Parker's mother -- namely, that I was a relationship “addict” of some sort, and that my whole situation made it “toxic” to be around me. I guess she must have figured out that this was why I’d been a little chillier to her than normal.  She had called me to apologize – not for her opinions about me, but for having expressed her thoughts aloud to Parker’s mother.

After I finished talking to my mother, I joined Parker and Lilianna in bed.  Parker was lying in the middle, with an arm around each of us.  We had a good conversation about all the things that were stressing me out – my recent visit with Travis, followed by my visit with Scott, which had upset Travis, and now this thing with my mother.  It was dark.  We were sleepy.  The bed was small.  I didn’t want Sienna, then two and a half, to wake up without one of her parents in the room.  So I said, “How about I go sleep in the room with the kids?”

So, the short answer to Poly FAQ #3: People are natural problem solvers.  However complex the situation, a solution will emerge that makes some kind of sense. And once you've figured out your partner(s) and your location, the sex -- or the sleeping, or the tossing around fitfully, whatever -- can begin!

I'm Polyamorous – Is There Something Wrong with My Primary Relationship? (DP vs. PPL #6)

Not everyone who identifies as polyamorous has a primary relationship. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that not every poly person identifies as part of a couple/triangle/family: one poly “single” whose acquaintance I made several years ago felt that her primary relationship was with herself.

Conventional wisdom would have it that these people are simply “players” – people who are afraid to commit to a serious relationship with another person. Why? Because they are immature, or damaged, or incapable of real love, etc. Should they ever settle down with a mate, they will prove that they've matured, and/or that they've been healed and made whole by the miraculous and mysterious power of love.

However, if you started your poly adventure as an already-formed couple, what you have proven to the monogamous mainstream is that there must be something wrong with your relationship.

In the case of poly couples, conventional wisdom would have it that either A) you aren't working hard enough on your primary relationship, and you're using other people as a way to shirk your real responsibilities, or B) you ought to stop using other people as an escape from the messy business of getting yourself out of a big mistake. In other words, “Get counseling, or get a divorce!”

Encountering this attitude – and believe me, it crops up constantly – can be downright infuriating.

It's no big surprise that many poly couples take the defensive posture they do: THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH OUR RELATIONSHIP, GODDAMMIT. STOP PATHOLOGIZING US ALREADY!

I myself have taken this position numerous times. Parker and I have a remarkably happy marriage, and it pisses me off to be judged by people whose (supposedly) monogamous marriage makes them miserable.

But the bare-bones truth of the matter is that EVERY long-term relationship has something “wrong” with it. There is no relationship that's completely free of dysfunction.

It's also true that no relationship is going to meet all of your needs. However perfect your match, you and your mate cannot be each other's entire world. Oh, sure, you can survive as just the two of you. Hell, you can survive as a hermit, mumbling nuttily to yourself in your tumbledown twig hut.

You can also, I hear, survive on a diet of potatoes and milk, but I'll bet that as soon as someone shows up with some curried spinach salad or salmon en croute, you're going to realize you've been missing something.

So, I'm going to go out on a limb here: part of the reason that Parker and I have an open relationship is that we don't meet all of each other's needs.

What is it that's “wrong” with our marriage?

Back in the fall of 2000, I attempted to articulate the problem to a friend who was considering opening up his own marriage as a concession to his wife, who was unhappy with the way things were, but who did not want to get divorced. At the time, Scott and I had been together for about two years, and Parker was obsessed with a friend of mine named Carmen. The following are excerpts from two letters sent to Mr. E, who wanted to know how things worked for me and Parker in our open relationship:

"You're right: the compromises and concessions and expectations that grow
up around or in the midst of a relationship rarely, if ever, are
understood. They're shadowy, and I suspect that we want to avoid
looking at them too closely because we don't want them to be there.
Because yes, falling in love just happens, sans cold calculation, and
yes, sometimes there is that lovely stage in which no compromise is
necessary. Who wants to stop believing in magic? And who wants to
believe that he or she was deluded during that phase of needing nothing
else but love? But it is important not to insist that love and
pragmatism be mutually exclusive, or we human beings could never be
happy in a long-term relationship -- sooner or later, negotiation
becomes an inextricable part of any relationship between two people.
I think that sex is where these tensions play themselves out most
vividly because it is somehow emotionally unappealing to think of sex as
a negotiation, to answer your question in general and rather circular
terms. In order to explain more clearly why I found it particularly
upsetting to realize that I might be exchangeable, and why I
particularly noticed being upset about this during sex with a spouse
who, I suspected, was thinking about a specific other woman -- well, I
would probably have to tell a very long story. Suffice it to say that
when I married [Parker] I understood very little about my own sexuality,
but I knew enough to understand that sex was the one area in which we
were perhaps not very well matched -- and thus, even in the midst of
being in love with him, I made a practical choice -- a compromise, if
you will. Being insecure about the sexual side of our relationship,
having to work at it (i.e., be pragmatic about it) from the very
beginning, explains (perhaps) why I don't like to be reminded just how
non-magical that particular exchange has been."

"No, I don't find it strange that you've found sex to be the one really good
part in the recent story of your marriage, that it's been a relief from other
negotiations. I know that when [Parker] and I moved from having a theoretically
open marriage to an actually open one (meaning that, taking [Parker] at his word
when he said that he did not expect me to be monogamous, I actually began
stitching a scarlet A for myself), our sex immediately took on a strange
urgency & was better than it had ever been. Perverse, maybe -- but
evolutionary psychology, at any rate, would have predicted it.
No, nothing is set in stone, and a sexual imbalance can be lessened, sometimes
by bizarre means. Actually, I would say that for most of my marriage, sex has
been fine, despite the imperfect match. But although we have learned a great
deal, the original imbalance is still there, and will most likely always be
there, because it stems from a personality difference. It's hard to describe,
but I'd say that [Parker] is just not as fascinated by sex as I am -- though this
is largely an intellectual thing, rather than a difference in physical desire.
He once wanted to know why I was so interested in all the theory and literature
I studied, and I answered, only half in jest, that I'd figured out that in
order to be a successful graduate student in English, one only had to remember
one thing: that everything you read, regardless of subject matter, is really
about sex -- unless it claims upfront to be about sex, in which case it isn't
about sex, it is really about power, or capitalism, or something. Then I
explained that I loved studying the stuff because either I got to theorize sex
or I got to read it, one or the other -- and he just thought I was endearingly
loony."

This “Parker is just not as fascinated by sex as I am” story ended up getting blown out of the water when he met Lilianna, though.

One afternoon, Lilianna, Parker, and I were sitting around our kitchen table, discussing Parker's and my marriage. Lilianna had recently come across a triangle model of relationships: a perfectly balanced relationship would be an equilateral triangle composed of PASSION, COMMITMENT, and INTIMACY. The theory was that most relationships were imbalanced in some way: in most relationships, one of the sides of the triangle is shorter than the other two, and very imbalanced relationships lack one aspect (or, in some cases, two aspects) altogether.

It was a no-brainer to identify the “short side” of our marriage: Parker and I are committed to each other and very intimate, but passion's not our strongest suit. According to the rubric, this dynamic results in a “companionate” relationship – which is a little bit misleading, since ours is hardly a sexless marriage, and there are all kinds of things we're passionate about together.

However, it's true that I think of Parker as a best friend and soulmate first, and a lover second. (As an aside, no, I don't think a person ought to have just one best friend, one soulmate, and one lover – and I certainly don't subscribe to the notion that your spouse is supposed to be all three rolled into one.)

When Lilianna asked, “Which of the three things would you say is MOST important to you?” I said intimacy. For me, commitment and passion are both impossible without intimacy.

You can imagine my dismay when Parker responded to Lilianna's question differently: “I'd have to say that passion is most important to me,” he said – and my heart just plummeted into the soles of my feet. If passion was really what was MOST IMPORTANT to him, then what on earth was he doing, married to me?

Our ensuing conversation revealed that Parker and I have very different ideas of what passion IS – no wonder I'd mistakenly assumed that passion – as *I* understood it – wasn't all that important to him!

It turns out that a necessary component of passion, for Parker, is longing – which means he's unlikely to feel very passionate about someone he has, someone he's sure about. In other words, as his wife, I simply cannot meet his need to experience passion in his life.

I'll never forget Lilianna's response to this revelation: “I'm not sure how you do it, Viny – I don't think I could handle being Parker's primary.”

It was quite a moment. The ugly truth about us as a couple – the sore spot, the jagged place where we don't quite fit together – was under the magnifying glass. There it was, in plain daylight, ten times its normal size, and it looked pretty bad. Lilianna touched the painful spot with cool fingers, and said she understood, and... somehow, I felt better.

Here's another truth: I wouldn't want to be in a monogamous marriage with anyone. I think I understood this about myself a long time ago, back when Parker and I got married, at the tender age of nineteen – and the fact that I knew he wouldn't insist on monogamy was one of the reasons I decided to marry him.

It's a decision I've never regretted.

Guest Post by MeowOnFire: "Don't Eat Here"

Although I've been poly for years, I'm still akin to the waitress who says “You probably shouldn't eat here.” You'd probably get up and go somewhere else, right? I mean, if the waitress advises you to jump ship, there's a pretty good chance she knows what she's talking about.

As do I. Don't get me wrong. There are most definitely parts of my life that do not suck. There are some pretty fantastic parts of my life that are all because of poly but it is definitely NOT an easy, rock-less, hill-free hike. You need really good shoes, a LOT of water and more patience than will easily fit into a standard size Camelbak.

I see a lot of poly folks suffering from Shiny Thing Syndrome. They're easily distracted, slightly addicted to the excitement of new relationships, and more likely to be listening to the less than ethical governing voice of the naughty bits.

Sufferers of STS seem to be more frequent than not and honestly, I think it's begun to encompass the culture of poly. This kind of behavior strikes me as incredibly immature (and annoying) because it doesn't seem to value the work, fortitude, and occasional counseling sessions that go into making a long term relationship work. Shiny isn't always better. In fact, shiny gets dull pretty quick. Shiny often turns into game-playing, power struggles, and the realization that ADHD isn't always a lovable quirk. And, it's even worse if YOU have lost your “shine.” Because nobody's gonna dance under a dull disco ball.

Being in ONE long term relationship is hard. Granted, if it's an uphill battle all of the time, you should probably reevaluate your reasons for staying in the relationship, but overall, it requires work. Sometimes a lot of it. Sometimes not as much. And you don't get a work schedule. You're on call all the time because at any moment, either of you could decide NOW is the time to finally hash out the proper way to install the toilet paper roll.

Multiply that by your own level of masochism.

Now you're on call for multiple jobs. Multiple “discussions” about toilet paper rolls. Multiple therapists for multiple sessions about how to resolve those issues that keep coming up. Multiple schedules, multiple food preferences, multiple fighting styles and multiple ways to royally fuck this all up.

It's enough to make anyone's head spin. It's enough to make you question your sanity (past and present). It's enough to force the question of whether having your nipples twisted in a dungeon for the low, low price of $100 an hour MIGHT just be easier.

I'm Polyamorous – Is There Something Wrong with Me? (DP vs. PPL #5)

I am a freak. You might not think it to look at me – in fact, I regularly appear in public without raising the slightest suspicion -- but I've chosen a lifestyle that catapults me far outside the boundaries of the cultural norm. A lot of the time, I completely forget about my own freakishness, and go about my daily business thinking I'm no different from the next person standing in line at the grocery store.

But although my life seems normal to me, it doesn't always seem so normal to other people. Almost without fail, when I disclose certain facts about my personal life to someone who doesn't know me very well, I get some kind of reaction. Sometimes it's a look of blank incomprehension. Sometimes it's incredulity, often accompanied by morbid curiosity. Every once in a while, it's an expression of relief: “I can't tell you how glad I am to meet someone else like me.”

I always go into these sorts of conversations feeling like I'm going to be asked to account for myself, to somehow justify my aberrant behavior.

Normalcy needs no explanation. But deviance had better come up with a damned good excuse.

At the bottom of the blame barrel lurks the Dominant Paradigm's ad hominem attack: If you are polyamorous, there must be something wrong with you.

In response, the Poly Party Line proclaims: There's nothing wrong with me that isn't also wrong with everyone else. In other words, yes, it's true that I'm not perfect. Neither is anyone else. So what's your fucking POINT?

But let's not shut down this dialogue just yet – I always find it pleasant to peruse the long list of human imperfections, don't you?

I guess it might be interesting to conduct some research on a large sample of people who identify as polyamorous. We could then determine whether, as a group, they exhibit a higher-than-average incidence of certain personality disorders, or cardiovascular disease, or that selfish gene that makes them think they can have more than their fair share.

Until such time as this research is fully funded, though, let's stick with the evidence at our disposal, namely the observations of yours truly, about yours truly.

So, for all you psychological Sherlocks out there, here's what's wrong with me:

1. I have very poor vision. We're talking 20/1000. Compared to the average person, I'm way more likely to mistake one lover for another.
2. I'm bad at math. One, two, five, what's the difference?

Wait, wait, wait, you say. Viny, be SERIOUS.

Okay. I've got a bunch of personality flaws that would seem to make me a bad candidate for polyamory, such as competitiveness (see my whole series of posts on “The Problem of Comparison”) and completely sucking at multi-tasking.

Personal weaknesses of mine that make me a good candidate for polyamory probably include being a show-off and a know-it-all, craving attention and approval, and having a sense of entitlement.

Which reminds me of something my Aunt Vanessa once said to me: “Your son is exactly like you – you both just assume that everyone loves you.” I've never forgotten her comment, or the tone in her voice when she said it – a bizarre combination of disapproval, disdain, marvel, and envy.

Actually, I think my Aunt Vanessa was on to something, although I'm too tired to figure out exactly what, or how it might relate to our topic.

I will say this: if we're really looking for an explanation for how I ended up here in Polyfreakville, it would be more fruitful to examine a cluster of personality traits that probably aren't listed in the DSM, and to excavate a few interesting details about my religious upbringing.

I think polyamory appeals to me because I am at once uber-practical and deeply romantic. I'm loyal; I keep the promises I make, which means I'm careful about what I commit to. I'm an extrovert who values intimacy. I'm a lover. Nothing matters more to me than my relationships. Sexuality – my own and others' – has always fascinated me. I also look at sex as a necessary creature comfort. And I can't deal with the emotional claustrophobia of keeping some important feeling or experience to myself, or the sensual stinginess of “saving” myself for my spouse.

So, maybe all this means there's something wrong with me. C'est la vie.

Is Polyamory Like Communism? (DP vs. PPL #4)

Hallelujah -- we've finally moved on from topic #3, which was starting to seem like the Bermuda Triangle.

Just to refresh our memories: the Dominant Paradigm is saying something like, “Maybe polyamory is okay in theory – but there are all kinds of biological, cultural, and practical reasons why it won't work.” And the Poly Party Line's response goes something like, “Oh yeah? Give me your reasons, and I'll shoot them down, one by one.”

When my mother-in-law was here, I asked her to help me brainstorm a list of objections that might fit our rubric for this post. It was a beautiful morning. We were following Sienna out to the communtiy garden. I had a pencil and my “Reform School Girl: Complete and Unabridged Journal” in hand.

The conversation Helen and I ended up having didn't go precisely how I'd imagined the DP vs. PPL match going, but sometimes our mental mock-ups don't resemble reality, y'know?

Helen: So what's the topic again?

Viny: That polyamory may sound good in theory, but that it doesn't work in reality. Kind of like communism. It sounds good, but then there there are those long lines to buy toilet paper, and you realize it's a shitty way to govern a country.

Helen: Can I steal that line for my play?

Viny: Sure. But tell me: what are all the reasons it won't work, from your perspective, or just what you think other people might say?

Helen: Well, what immediately comes to mind is, there are only so many hours in a day. How do you organize things? It's hard enough to find time for everything as it is, let alone if you add multiple relationships.

Viny (writing furiously, thinking about previous posts on scheduling traumas, and also about how she doesn't own a television – that's a lot of “found” time right there!): Umm hmmm.

Helen: And Liz interviewed her friend – a Mormon, yes, but a democrat, so she's open-minded – and what she said was, “I want to be my husband's one and only. I want to be his special person. Wouldn't you want that too?”

Viny: Um, no. I don't need to be the 'only one' to feel special.

Helen: And she said, “Wouldn't you be worried that your spouse would leave you for the other person?”

Viny: No.

Helen: I'm just telling you what she said.

Viny: I know. But nothing she's saying makes sense to me. We obviously inhabit different worlds.

Helen: So, okay, different worlds. You're in two different worlds all the time. You've got your day-to-day life with one person, and with the other, it's like every time you see him, it's a special thing. It's a “date,” and you get dressed up. You look forward to it.

Viny: You're saying this is a problem.

Helen: If one person is just regular, mundane, and the other person is special...

Viny: This is really about my specific situation, not about polyamory in general. What if Travis lived with us? Would you feel better about that?

Helen: Um...

Viny: You're saying that because I see Travis less frequently, he's more rare, and therefore he's special, and that Parker is someone I take for granted.

Helen: That's what I'm worried about.

Viny: You're saying that having another relationship means my “regular life” relationship with my husband is somehow...devalued.

Helen: Devalued. Yes, I like that.

Viny: There's something imbalanced in poly situations – someone is always going to lose out by comparison to someone else? Is that what you're saying?

Helen: I'm saying marriages require effort. Maybe what you're doing is an...escape.

Viny: Are you saying Parker and I aren't putting in enough effort?

Helen: No, no. I'm just saying that this might be a problem with polyamory. Maybe if they just focused a little more on their relationship...

Viny: So are we talking polyamory in general, or are we talking about what worries you about me and Parker? 'Cause I think this is your issue. You know, when I was talking about that restaurant Travis and I went to in Portland, and you said to Parker, “Aren't you jealous about the food, at least?”

Helen: Oh, I was just being funny. You know, food jealousy. So... I also interviewed my friend about this – I have the notes somewhere – and she compared polyamory to blended families – after divorce & remarriage, she had a blended family, her kids, his kids, divided loyalties – and it's hard. Why would you choose that if you had an intact family?

Viny: You're saying Travis is like a step-child?

Helen: No, I'm saying – do children feel like someone is being disloyal by lea-- by having other relationships?

Viny: That's interesting. You were just about to say, “by LEAVING” --do you think that's what it boils down to? That you're afraid I'm going to abandon my kids? Or that Parker is?

Helen: Yeah, that is interesting. I was going to say “leave,” but like, “leave for the evening.”

Viny: Uh huh. Again, does it matter to a kid whether you're leaving to see a lover or to go to a book group?

Helen: I think there's a difference. I can feel a difference.

Viny: That's because you are an adult, who has preconceived notions about what a book group is, and how that differs from a rendezvous with a lover. You're bringing a bunch of fears to the table.

Helen (not convinced): Maybe.

Intermission with the Ambassador

My mother-in-law is a good sport.

I'm not sure she would consider this a compliment, since “good sport” is how Helen often describes her own mother-in-law, who – truth be told – drives her nuts.

But I'm really feeling like giving Helen a chummy old-buddy-old-pal pretend punch to the shoulder, after how terribly sporting she's been on this visit: although, as she'll tell you, she's “not a fan” of polyamory, she's gotten right into the ring during this recent Dominant Paradigm vs. Poly Party Line mud-wrestling match.

Her new play, the one she's been writing with Parker's sister Liz, has a polyamorous couple in it. Helen wanted me and Parker to read it and tell her what we thought. She said she was anxious to present “our side” accurately.

After reading the play, both Parker and I came to the same conclusion: three-fourths of the poly stuff had to go. “It sounds like you're proselytizing,” I said. “Helen, Ambassador for Polyamory, handing out pamphlets to the audience – I'm not sure that's what you're going for.”

She laughed, because, as I said, she's a good sport.

So, we've been revising the play together, with a lot less attention to polyaccuracy. Fair play can sit and spin: what we want is a great play.

Who cares if it makes me look bad? Bring on the mud!

Is Polyamory Good for Kids? (Deborah Anapol for the Poly Party Line)

In her book Love Without Limits: The Quest for Sustainable Intimate Relationships, Dr. Deborah Anapol takes the position that growing up with actively polyamorous parents might actually be beneficial for children. So we'll let her speak for the Poly Party Line here.

And then we'll rip her to shreds.

Whoops – what I meant to say was that I will dismantle her argument, ever so genteelly. I will slip that gaudy feather boa off her shoulders, and we'll get a look at the unadorned clavicles of the truth.

Here's Anapol's list of the ways in which the children of polyamorous parents might be better off than their stuck-in-the-monogamous-mainstream peers:

• “more loving, hugging and lap sitting, and higher quality parenting”
• greater chance of one or more stay-at-home parents
• “siblings for those who would otherwise be the only child of a couple”
• youthful parents AND more mature parents, simultaneously
• higher standard of living/better off financially
• group living is more ecological, which benefits everyone
• “the best hands-on education in cooperation, tolerance and sharing”
• family is more likely to “settle permanently in a community and put down roots”
• better education
• enhanced emotional development
• reduced incidence of “symbiosis, child abuse, and adolescent rebellion”

Well, holy frikadeller: it's a wonder EVERYONE isn't flocking to polyamory – for the sake of the children, if for no other reason!

And here's another thing I wonder: Why haven't I seen all of these benefits accrue to my own children? After all, Parker and I have been actively polyamorous for twelve years – since Denali, our oldest, was two. Granted, our kids have experienced some of the benefits Anapol mentions. For example, I do think they're getting a good education in cooperation, tolerance and sharing – although that's at least as much thanks to living in a co-housing community as it is to having poly parents. But where are all those extra wage-earning adults Anapol assumes will be contributing to our children's financial well-being?

As it turns out, Anapol is advocating for a very specific form of polyamory, something she calls “combo families.” In other words, she doesn't mean for her list to apply to my children (or her own, apparently, since she admits to being unsuccessful in her attempts to form a combo family).

Here's her description of what the combo family is and how it functions:

Three to eight adults, of any mutually agreeable age and gender mix, form a marriage-type partnership. Possibly they incorporate or form a family trust, since there is no legal means of marriage for more than two people in the United States. They live with their co-parented children in one large or several adjacent houses or flats. They share domestic and economic responsibilities, just as an old-fashioned family does, but there are more hands to join in the work – and the fun!

Anapol's utopia is a polyfidelitous one: she envisions a traditional marriage, except that each spouse would be plighting his or her troth to two to seven mates, rather than just one.

Never mind that Anapol has been unable to realize her dream, and has had to raise her own children as a single parent with a succession of partners (in the case of her older daughter) or as part of a de facto couple (in the case of her younger child, at least as of the time when Love Without Limits was written).

But the combo family is still a terrific idea, right? If combo families were a part of the real world – if they existed anywhere but in Anapol's imagination, that is – they would raise some jim-dandy kids, dontcha think?

Well, maybe. It's generally recognized that Utopia is a great place to raise children. If only we could all agree on exactly what Utopia ought to look like, I'm sure we could create it together!

For me, the problem with Anapol's utopian vision is the polyfidelity component. Yes, it's true that I don't find polyfidelity personally appealing (see my November 2010 post, “Polyfidelity: Happily Ever After?”). But it's also that I just don't see that model working for most people, even among the minority of people who identify as polyamorous. The only situation in which polyfidelity actually seems to function (and by that, I mean that a multi-adult family is able to form in the first place, and then is able persist long enough to raise children) is among fundamentalist Mormons and other religious groups (or, if we take a global view, in tribal societies very different from our own). I'd rather not take religious polygamy as my model, thank you very much. Not only that, but I'd argue that many of the benefits to kids that Anapol gets so starry-eyed about do not apply in the case of children raised in fundamentalist enclaves. Reduced incidence of “symbiosis, child abuse, and adolescent rebellion”? I don't think so!

Is Polyamory Bad for Kids? (DP vs. PPL #3, round 5)

We're almost done with this topic, I promise. 

There was one final concern to address -- namely, that it's doing your children a disservice to drag them along on your polyamorous forays to the fringes of society.  In other words -- or so the conventional wisdom would have it -- it's hard to grow up feeling like your family is "different."

I'm not going to argue.

Growing up with polyamorous parents might cause a child to experience some social discomfort.  In this respect, it's much like growing up with gay parents, or parents of two different races, or disabled parents.

Or, come to think of it, fundamentalist parents, poor parents, vegan parents, immigrant parents, foster parents -- just about any family dynamic that puts a kid outside of the mainstream. 

I don't mean to make light of the potential difficulties here.  I'm just trying to say that this is hardly a damning indictment of polyamory.  If anything, it's a damning indictment of intolerance.

Is Polyamory Bad for Kids? (DP vs. PPL #3, round 4)

Today, boys and girls, we will be playing a numbers game.  Can anyone tell me whether having multiple, simultaneous intimate relationships takes more time and energy, on average, than maintaining one monogamous marriage?  What’s that, Joey? No, Susan, this is not the time for paper airplanes.  Please sit down – yes Tristan, Katrina, Guiseppe, Amanda, I’m talking to the four of you.  Pay attention.  We have an important que – Berkeley, your private conversation with Lamar will have to wait! – an important question to answer.  As I was saying….

Um.  Yeah.  Let’s do the freaking math:  more people = more time, more energy, more chaos, more drama.

The question is, are polyamorous parents plundering reserves that ought to be used to benefit their children? Is it the case that each of us has only a certain amount of love to give? As a parent, is it my sacred duty to avoid squandering this limited resource on people other than my kids?

More viscerally important (and I think other parents, poly or not, will identify with me here): Are my kids going to hate me for all the things I get wrong – and is THIS (you name it) one of those things they’re going to decide I got wrong?

Let’s take today, for example. I’m over at Travis’s house, writing a blog post.  Denali, my teenager, is doing who-knows-what (my guess, given that he’s out of school for spring break: watching Family Guy in the community room, or building something out of that ten feet of PVC pipe he bought yesterday with money he earned by carting away wheelbarrow-loads of rocks from our neighbor’s garden).  Sienna has probably gone through two or three outfits already: I’m betting she’s running around barefoot, in leopard pajama bottoms and a twirly dress.  But I don’t know, because I’m not there. 

One day a week, Parker takes sole responsibility for both kids, and I get to do whatever I want.  I usually spend the night at Travis’s and then hang out at his house after he’s gone to work, getting in some valuable alone time, soaking up the solitude. Parker also gets his day off every week; he often elects to go on a long hike.

I seriously doubt that these weekly breaks from parenting are harming our children.  Parker and I are both self-employed, which means that we are almost always home.  I’d be willing to bet that we spend more time with our kids than most American parents do.

Why, then, do I feel so defensive, so hooked in to this topic?  Why, whenever I tell Sienna that I am going over to Travis’s for the night, am I so relieved to see her wave goodbye with a smile and a sweet, “Bye, Mommy! See you tomorrow!”  Why was I surprised that Denali’s post on this topic was as positive as it was – and why did I feel uneasy, wondering whether he glossed over his negative feelings out of loyalty, a loyalty he’ll grow out of soon enough – or worse, whether he's playing the yes-man (however uncharacteristic of him such a thing would be) because he’s desperate for my approval, and it’s all because I’ve neglected him, because I've consistently focused far too much on my own stuff, at his expense?

If I were spending this morning at work, or a pottery class, or a La Leche league meeting, would I still worry that I’m stealing this time from my children?  More to the point, would I still worry that other people – the adults my children will someday become, in particular – are going to judge me and find fault with my choices?

I’m really not a fan of guilt.  But apparently, guilt is par for the course.  And Freud claimed that women lack a fully developed superego! 

So yes, a guilt trip I take regularly – I swear, I’ve worn a groove six feet deep – leads me to the conclusion that I haven’t paid enough attention to someone I love.

Just to give one example: when I was a kid, my little sister used to ask me to play with her, but I was often too busy reading, and I’d usually refuse.  Then later, when she had less use for me, I thought of all those times I could have bonded with her, and blamed myself for not seizing the opportunities when I had them.

(Funny, Travis and I were lying in bed this morning talking about regret.  “I don’t have a lot of regrets,” I said – quite truthfully, or at least that’s how it felt to me when I said it.  And he said, “I know.  It’s one of the things I like about you.” But back to our topic.)

The truth is, there are times when being a parent can be mind-numbingly boring.  Raising children is also worthwhile – in an absolute sense.  It feels to me like there is nothing more worth my while.  So, how to manage the cognitive dissonance (a.k.a. incipient guilt) that occurs whenever I find myself choosing to do something else?  As I must, if I don’t want to go barking mad?

For me, the key to the conundrum is this: to be a good parent (or a good wife, lover, friend, or neighbor), I have to take care of myself.  To use Travis’s analogy, it’s important to put on your own oxygen mask before attempting to help others with theirs.  This may be selfish, in a sense, but it’s what allows us to continue to be and do and give.

So, back to our question: are polyamorous parents shortchanging their kids? 

By way of answer, I’ll offer this comparison: there are a lot of mainstream  Mormons (i.e., NOT polygamous fundamentalists) who choose to have a gazillion children.  My grandfather was one of eleven; my mother was one of nine.  One of my aunts has ten children. One of my older cousins has twelve, I kid you not. Everyone raised in the Mormon church is familiar with these gigantic families – those two or three snot-nosed little ones being carted around by their slightly older siblings, the oldest kids working at McDonald’s after school to pay for luxuries their peers take for granted, like college – and meanwhile, that forgotten kid in the middle falls off the deep end and winds up pregnant or hooked on drugs, much to their pious parents’ chagrin.

There are people who will tell you that they loved growing up in a large family – and they might very well have siblings who feel like there was never enough of anything to go around, who resent the hell out of their parents for stretching themselves so thin.

In other words, I don’t have any pat answers to this question.

My best parenting advice – to myself, and to anyone else who cares to listen – is to work on awareness and balance. Pay attention to your own intuitions and observations. Are you feeling constantly overwhelmed, or are you enjoying the time you spend with your kids? Are your children behaving in ways that suggest they are starved for attention, or do they seem basically secure and well-adjusted?  Are the choices you make contributing to, or detracting from, your ability to parent effectively?  When you look at that magic family portrait in your mind, the one that shows you all as you really are, what do you see?

As the Mormons are fond of saying, “By their fruits ye shall know them.”