Even though it’s been lonely taking a break from male friends in the midwest,* it has been absolutely cleansing. And honestly, the midwest has always been lonely. That’s nothing new. We’ll all tell you that.
But my outlook on so many things has changed. I’m freer to create my own world and really take responsibility for it. I needed the space away from men and their projections. I needed fresh air.
Shout out to the queer community. Shout out to my non binary and trans comrades. Shout out to lesbians and bisexual women.
Deciding to immerse myself more in these communities–their art, comedy, covens, polycules, and politics–has felt like baptism. This is home.
Shout out to my girlfriend and my therapist, who listen to me babble endlessly about obvious poly tenets.
Love is not just one thing.
What does it mean to love myself?
Relationships are customizable.
Pleasure is a good thing, and there is no shame in seeking it.
Love is not just one thing.
Queer polyamory and straight polyamory are elementally different in Indiana. One has a space (imperfect though it may be) for womanism, the other fears it. One allows men to be flawed and gentle, the other projects male self-loathing onto women. One contains more leftists willing to discuss intersectionality, the other wonders why-everything-has-to-be-about-race. One is safe for trans people. The other is not.
Of course, all polyamorous events will purport to be inclusive. But inclusivity is an action that requires the accountability of everybody. It is not a static legal term. And it’s hard. I’m not throwing shade at spaces that have failed to uphold this status. Just pointing out the differences in the experiences of them.
Every woman–regardless of sexual preference–who has attended a straight polyamorous event has been approached by every male in this event (usually pleasantly, but sometimes not) to shoot their shot. When faced with a boundary, this man will then complain about how difficult it is to “find women,” and how “easy it is for [their current female partner] to find men.”
Every woman who has attended a straight polyamorous event has had this experience. Ask them.
I needed the space to learn what it really means, love is not just one thing. We know what the patriarchy thinks love and sex are. Womanism allows space for everybody to be bold, to have an opinion, to have triggers and boundaries, to have desires and needs, to have vulnerable and gentle parts. Womanism allows everyone to be held, and to be let go, when needed. Womanism is what polyamory tries to be, but generally falls short because of the work it takes to create these spaces.
My girlfriend is a consistent example to me of a healthy relationship. I don’t care what the future holds when I’m with her. I’m holding her hand. Nothing matters. Can I, a cis woman, allow that same composure and collectedness with my cis boyfriend? Who is silly and sweet? And lets me be me while still asserting that he is him? Can I not be obsessed with thoughts of how my straight relationship will end?
I thought my damage was simply, men. That they can’t follow through. That they can’t put effort into their relationships after the NRE has faded. That when they’re stressed, they push everyone away and then return with no desire to heal the rifts. That they never go to therapy and fix their emotional problems, which then sabotage their relationships.
Even though that is what has happened in most of my heterosexual relationships, that’s not what my actual damage is (nor does it do justice to my own mistakes in these scenarios). These are normal human problems, and they’ve all given me a new piece of wisdom as I continue on my divine journey, and divine right, to fall in love and have sex with people.
The reason that poly, heterosexual relationships have been hard for me lately (besides being in Indiana, sorry-not-sorry) is the straight-culture expectation that they’re supposed to be everything. That your friends and family have to meet them and approve. And then they have to get notified when you break up, and then they have to ask what happened, and then they have to make a bunch of character judgements about what happened.
Every member of my family asked if I would get back together with my ex "when he was done" mourning his father.
My damage isn’t (just) men. It’s straight culture.
You know what we are? When you turn out all the lights, do you know what we are? We’re little balls of fire careening through oblivion. Some of us are big, some of us are little. We’re constantly burning through what we have. We’re starving for each other. Some of us are just waiting for the next fire to share with another person, regardless of its viability.
When we get the ultimate blessing of a person who shares fire with us for a long time, it gives us life. We need it so bad that we make religions and philosophies around it. When the fire stops, we feel cheated. We forget that we were always the source of that fire–that there are 8 billion other little fires scuttling around, and we’ll find it again. That behind who we shared it with was an entire person who couldn’t see the future and had their own set of triggers and trauma.
My therapist (shoutout) assures me that love and breakups don’t have to hurt the way they’ve been hurting. I don’t fully know how yet, but I feel like it has something to do with viewing relationships as a growth mindset (because in a growth mindset, you see failures as ways to learn).
Straight culture is what makes us have a scarcity mindset about the fires we’re able to share. It’s what makes us think love magic only has one source, one color, one mechanism. When you realize there is fire all around us, and a straight relationship is not the only way to get it, you start laughing more. The way I grin ear-to-ear when my coworkers and I can share a joke.
Every Mr-Rogers-smile was forged in the same dark, flooded corners of oblivion that we all feel after big fires leave our orbit.
Remember that masturbation is a completely valid and beautiful way to love yourself, and that you’re worthy of (but not entitled to) all the types of connections that you crave. We’re all horny and lonely, boo. You’ll find magic again.
_______________________
*Honestly, the only thing I did was put up the boundary that I’m not talking about dating with them. I haven’t said we couldn’t hang out, but you’d be amazed how many men lose interest in friendship when you aren’t getting them a step closer to a hard dick.
