No Mo Blog

“The first step to take is to become aware that love is an art, just as living is an art; if we want to learn how to love we must proceed in the same way we have to proceed if we want to learn any other art, say music, painting, carpentry, or the art of medicine or engineering.  What are the necessary steps in learning any art?  The process of learning an art can be divided conveniently into two parts: one, the mastery of the theory; the other, the mastery of the practice. If I want to learn the art of medicine, I must first know the facts about the human body, and about various diseases. When I have all the theoretical knowledge, I am by no means competent in the art of medicine. I shall become a master in this art only after a great deal of practice, until eventually the results of my theoretical knowledge and the results of my practice are blended into one – my intuition, the essence of the mastery of any art.  But, aside from learning the theory and practice, there is a third factor necessary to becoming a master in any art – the mastery of the art must be a matter of ultimate concern; there must be nothing else in the world more important than the art. This holds true for music, for medicine, for carpentry – and for love.”

–Erich Fromm, Art of Loving

Primary and Secondary are terms I’ve thought quite a lot about. I really do like this take, thinking not hierarchically, but descriptively of relationships:

A replacement for “primary/secondary” @ PolyWeekly.com

So I’ve been on a kick of reading literature/books/compilation works on questions of human sexuality, monogamy, and evolutionary theory of late.  Two books I obtain were “The Red Queen” by Matt Ridley and “Sex At Dawn” by Christopher Ran, et al.  Although I haven’t gotten to Dawn yet (actually the book I’m more excited about reading), the Red Queen has been a remarkable and fascinating book in reference to a lot of questions regarding biology, sex, and monogamy.

I will comment that Ridley’s book was written in the early 90s and is as such a bit dated.  There has been interesting new science done since then that both confirms and denies various tentative conclusions that Ridley draws from the early science at the time.  However, some of the most interesting ideas presented and still being researched regard a few key questions:

1. Why are any organisms a sexual species, when asexuality or hermaphroditism can pay off genetically in an exponential manner?
2. Why is spectrum of animal sexual monogamy so wide?
3. What might motivate/dictate a selective pressure towards or away from monogamy?
4. How might we explain, from a bio-social perspective, widespread adultery (monogamous relationship with extra affairs)?

So to give a short taste to the style and ideas persented, here is a short excerpt from the middle of the chapter entitled “Monogamy and the Nature of Women”:

But third, women are sometimes unfaithful. Not all adultery is caused by men. Though she may rarely or never be interested in casual sex with a male prostitute or a stranger, a woman, in life as in soap operas, is perfectly capable of accepting or provoking an offer of an affair with one man whom she knows, even if she is “happily” married at the time. This is a paradox. It can be resolved in one of three ways. We can blame adultery on men, asserting that the persuasive powers of seducers will always win some hearts, even the most reluctant. Call this the “Dangerous Liaisons” explanation. Or we can blame it on modern society and say that the frustrations and complexities of modern life, of unhappy marriages and so on, have upset the natural pattern and introduced an alien habit into human females. Call this the “Dallas” explanation. Or we can suggest that there is some valid biological reason for seeking sex outside marriage without abandoning the marriage – some instinct in women not to deny themselves the option of a sexual “plan B” when plan A does not work out so well. Call this the “Emma Bovary” strategy.

I personally feel the “Emma Bovary” explanation and evolutionary strategy for women is an amazingly complex, rich, and productive theory that needs to be explored way more theoretically, scientifically, and intellectually.

So, read the book!

I recently realized that since coming  out as Polyamorous, my sense of a cohesive self has finally manifested.  That might sound a bit dramatic, but when you’ve lived your entire adult life feeling divided into the “good person” or the “bad person,” having  those resolved into just “me”  feels  rather revolutionary.   I never believed that anyone could love the whole me, including all of the messy negative stuff.  So I sectioned off all of the things I perceived as bad (my tendency  to cheat being chief among them)  and only certain people got to see that part. Only those people who had engaged with me in that habit knew the “real” me.  And those acts of reckless abandon, of breaking the rules became precious acts to me.  The only parts untouched by my loved ones for whom I felt I would do anything or change anything to be more appealing.  Love was a thing earned by manipulation.  I was tricking people into caring about me.

I know now that I wasn’t fooling anybody.  That much is clear.  My significant others loved me despite this  tendency to try to hide my negative sides and gain attention through sexuality.  I thought physicality was a shortcut to emotional connection, that I was using it to get close to people.  I prided myself on having connections with people who were difficult to get to.  I succeeded where others failed by being the perfect confidant.  I am realizing  that the arrow may point the other way.  I have a hard time being connective and open with someone if I don’t feel a strong physical connection with them.  If and only if someone wants me sexually, will I truly open up to them.  I’m not sure what to make of that or how accurate it is.

Talking honestly about my actual needs and desires has led to substancial changes in my view on the world.  The so-called deviant aspects of my personality  have seen the light of day and are therefore subjec to change.  And this is a good thing.  There is a sense of ownership of my choices now and responsibility not only to my partners but to my self.  Boundaries are beginning to form of my own volition, which I honestly wasn’t sure was possible.  It is comforting to know that I am not a slave to my desires or a bottomless pit of connective need.  My needs are meetable and my desires are quenchable.

These days, the word “stress” has pretty negative connotations. And No Mo relationships do (I feel) have a lot more potential for stress than monogamous relationships, due to the extra dynamics at play. But stress isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

Without stress, life would be boring and dull. Stress occurs when we have obstacles to overcome, and when we overcome those obstacles, we feel better. In relationships, we become stronger. And let’s face it: sometimes it can be fun to overcome drama. For some personality types, it can be like solving a puzzle. For others, it’s just the thrill of human interaction; of channeling emotion, overcoming communication barriers, and coming into harmony. Stress drives us to be better, and No Mo relationships require better communication, more honesty, and a higher level of introspection; and therefore they provide more opportunities for good stress.

Of course, too much of a good thing is always bad. When one goes through too much stress, it becomes distress. This is usually characterized by a sense of exhaustion — physical, and mental — which can lead to depression in a vicious cycle. If your relationship is wearing you down more than it’s lifting you up, leaving you feeling tired and apathetic, then it’s time to re-evaluate, and possibly even seek out a counselor who understands No Mo relationships.

I was recently discussing polyamory with my girlfriend, and how it doesn’t necessarily involve sex with people other than the primary. She was very confused, and asked what the difference was between that and just being friends with someone. And I found it really hard to explain that to someone who isn’t poly herself. How does one explain it?

I said that there is a certain level of intimacy and connection in a poly relationship, even one without sex, that goes beyond normal, or even close, friendships. I gave the example of how our own relationship started — I was in a sexual Dominant/submissive relationship with another woman, but still extremely close with my current girlfriend even though we didn’t have intercourse (though we did make out all the time, and had some distinct “heavy petting” going on). This helped her to understand, but if I hadn’t had that example I’m not sure how I would have explained in a way that she would have understood.

Also, in bringing that up, the fact that I eventually broke that other relationship off and now she is my primary makes her very scared that the same thing would happen to her if we were ever to go non-monogamous.  This is something she’s been wrestling with because she knows that I’m inherently NoMo.

Then again, we really already are non-monogamous. I have very intimate relationships with people other than her, just not physically intimate (though we have agreed that it is okay for me to make out with certain people). Perhaps this relates to red’s PIES system. I cannot imagine life without having friends that are so close that they are very much a part of me, intellectually and emotionally. And I get something different from those friends than I get from my girlfriend. To me, those friends really are like family. I have always been that way. Red and I were talking about this yesterday in fact, and decided that maybe it has something to do with the fact I am an only child, and therefore friends were my surrogate brothers and sisters.

To bring this back around again though, I’d be interested to know how other people have explained non-sex NoMo relationships to monogamous people.  How do you identify that fuzzy line that separates friendships from non-sex poly relationships?  Or do other NoMo people also think that the only “real” NoMo relationships involve sex?

I have a sense that there is a core “me” devoid of all of my influences.  Perhaps it is more accurate to say that I hold a part of myself sacred and separate from my conscious influences.   A tiny part of my heart or my brain that is quintessentially me.  And that part struggles to be known and seen and adhered to.  This is what I consider to be me at my most authentic in a sense, the part of me that separates me from my surroundings and defines my personal edges in this universe.

This so-called core is not untouchable though.  It is affected by experience and trauma and continual social pressures and survival techniques.  It is also decided upon both consciously and unconsciously by me, parts selected for seeming accuracy instead of allowed to simply exist in its true form.  This means that certain people make more or less sense to me, they bring out better or worse parts of my core identity.

Recently, parts of myself that I hold dear have begun to show an uglier side.  My sexual openness and attitudes about sexuality in general have begun to seem needy or desperate, a scared girl’s attempt at connection and fear of loss and abandonment.  There is a realization that I am afraid people only like me if I make them feel sexually desired.  I am afraid I become a symbol of something carefree and sexual instead of a person with thoughts and feelings and needs and desires of my own.   I make myself the symbol by removing from view those negative traits I perceive.  I present the “perfect” version of myself to you, complete with imperfections you can live with all the while knowing there is a really imperfect person lurking underneath that no one would love.

Everyone sees a version including me.  I don’t know my true nature because I am NOT devoid of influences and because those influences run so deeply that they are not separable.  Not nameable.

How does one adhere to an ever-influenced set of values or ideals?

Hello there, reader! I’m Sammael, a dominant sadomasochistic male with a penchant for geekery. I have limited personal experience with NoMo relationships, but I do know a thing or two about human nature, psychology, and communication (or at least, I’d like to think I do!). I’ve also had quite a few friends involved in NoMo relationships, so I’m aware of the challenges and differences in these sorts of relationships. My thoughts and views are ever evolving, as I take in new experiences, see things from new perspectives, and uncover new information. I’ve always felt pretty confined and out of my element in monogamous relationships, and  though I’ve never physically cheated with anyone I’ve been with, I have emotionally cheated before (which I realize can be even worse, and to this day I still feel bad about it).

My first NoMo relationship was ostensibly polyamorous, but after a little while it became clear that my girlfriend was seeking a polyandrous relationship, which wasn’t what I signed on for. Since then, I’ve been in a poly relationship that was sexually monogamous, and an open relationship. I’m currently in a monogamous relationship, but I see NoMo as a gradient, not an off/on switch. Really I see very few things in life as black and white. I consider myself 90-95% heterosexual, for instance.  I give a range for a few reasons, one of which is that it depends on how much I’ve had to drink. I wouldn’t say that I get gaysted, exactly, but I turn a bit more heteroflexible.

I also tend to go on tangents like that. Generally I’ll tie everything together into a neat package at the end though. And who doesn’t want to see my neat package? (I also make horrible puns, and probably overuse parenthetical expressions, and semicolons; I love the semicolon!)

I love physics analogies and all I keep thinking is phase transition — that moment water turns to ice, crystals come out of solution, or dry ice sublimes into a gas. It is non-linear. It is radical. It is pivotal. And it seems to happen in relationships as much as in fluids — every relationship has those pivotal moments. Those times you look back and say, “yup, that was a biggie.” I had one of those recently — it’s really weird to see it as its happening though, in recent hindsight. I told my primary that I was afraid we were headed for the end of our relationship — for divorce.

It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever actually said. It took such genuine honesty to admit that it was a very real fear of mine. It was almost as hard as when I told my parents I was engaged, because I was so scared of judgment, so scared of being wrong and saying something I couldn’t take back, so scared of being proved that all my fears had every bit of support I envisioned. I said it, explained it, and let it sit there — out there.

I was ok. I said it, I let the fear in, looked it straight in the face, and stopped letting it dominate my thoughts and feelings. It wasn’t as bad as I thought. It seemed emptier than I imagined to say. It was real and unreal at the same time. But maybe it was more pivotal that I thought.

Owning ones fears seems to have that quality in relationships — maybe whenever we truly own our fears the moments become pivotal. For me, putting that out there as a possibility was empowering. It admitted that the relationship was a choice, and one I was actively making to stay a part of. It asked my primary to do the same, to see it as a choice. I made me be honest about where I was, where I thought we were, and where I thought we could be going. It pushed both of us to try to reconcile certain realities, maybe in a way that was really too hard.

I think my primary had one of those pivotal moments last night. It’s weird to see it in the moment…like a movie, plot unfolding. There’s a lot that’s going to settle from this, and maybe my sense is totally and completely wrong. There’s a lot I don’t know, and a lot that seems possible, both good and bad right now. I am just being, realizing that that’s all there is to do at moments like this. I’m not used to just letting fears flow, I’m not comfortable not fighting for what I care so deeply about, and I’m not sure I know that what I want will happen. But I can have faith and trust that not matter how pivotal a moment may be, they are always constrained by truth and love.