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.