“I’m not spiritual enough to share.”

“I don’t play well with others.”

Those are words I used to say to explain why polyamory wasn’t something I’d consider exploring.

Then, one day, a man I had matched with on 2 different dating apps asked the question that would shift my perspective. He asked, “Are you open to being open?”

His dating profile was very clear. He stated multiple times that he was only available for open relationships. I had chosen to match with him anyway because he seemed like an interesting man and we had a lot of common interests. My question in return to him was, “Are you open to being asked a kabillion questions and talking me through a lot of the finer points?” He said, “sure!” and that’s how my first polyamorous relationship began.

The first time I ended things, I met someone I wanted to explore a potential monogamous relationship with. He said we could obviously remain friends and he wished me well. That was it. The entirety of his response.

Zero argument, zero attempts to change my mind. No begging me to reconsider, no animosity.

I absolutely lost my freaking mind! LOL

Complete melt down, sobbing tears, raging anger. I interpreted his acceptance of my decision as a sign that I was disposable to him. That what we had shared together meant nothing to him. How dare he not “fight for me?” In my brain, him respecting the boundaries we had agreed to rather than trying to “keep me” with him felt like rejection.

I spent days crying over feeling like I had been delusional to think there was more between us than random sex. I questioned his integrity. I questioned how I could’ve been so stupid. How could I have let myself fall for this man? How could I have let him meet my boys and spend time in my home? Was the laughter we shared even real for him or was it all just an act to add me to his list of conquests?

I’m embarrassed to admit how long it took me to come to the realization that he was actually showing me more love and respect than I had any idea how to handle. It was disorienting to say the least.

When you remove the more mainstream societal boundaries of being “the one”, you slam right into the wall of realizing that choosing your partner(s) becomes a choice that is made over and over again, rather than something that happens once and you have to fight to justify that choice.

My autonomy and our extensively discussed boundaries were a higher priority to him than his desire to have an intimate relationship with me. WHAT?!?!?

Facing that reality was a completely unexpected mind fuck. I had to dig DEEP to wrap my head around the reality of the situation rather than default into the story of despair I created for myself.

A few months later, we had a very different discussion. The man I had gone out with was very much not a good match and I missed our time together. I sent him a text explaining what I was thinking and was greeted with a warm welcome to return to our more expansive relationship.

Returning triggered another wave of self-examination I wasn’t expecting.

I had to battle my own feelings about how I viewed him in my life. There were moments of feeling like I was using him for physical pleasure and perhaps a placeholder until I found “the one”. I had to face the shame of feeling like I had cast him aside for the potential of another man. He assured me he didn’t feel that way, but it took a bit for me to accept that was his truth and for me to remind myself that we had remained friends through the time I had stepped back. We still chatted almost daily about all kinds of things in both of our lives.

Separating the patterns of my past from the new opportunities that were ahead of me required a LOT of pausing, breathing deeply and asking myself some really difficult questions. Step by tiny step, I started to unravel my assumptions. What did I REALLY want? Where were my boundaries? What stories was I telling myself? And how did those stories keep me feeling safe and protected?

The most challenging question of all: What was I missing out on by not allowing myself to be open to being open?

The top answers to that question turned out to be ridiculously yummy food (the man could cook!), massive amounts of unrestricted love, a much deeper understanding of my own wants and needs, a man I could be safely vulnerable with, a hiking partner and long, rolling orgasms.

The irony of me remaining monogamous in an open relationship isn’t lost on me. There were still many years of patterns to unlearn and boundaries of my own to solidify. I have no doubt there will be many more things to contemplate and clarify as I go deeper.

Earlier this year, life lined up in a bunch of seemingly random, yet beautifully perfect ways. A man I’ve known for many years asked me if I’d be willing to explore our connection in a more physically intimate way. My first reaction was, “we can talk about it.” It didn’t take too long for me to admit to myself that dating him, even with the long-standing knowledge that polyamory was one of his boundaries, was the easiest, full-bodied “YES!” decisions I’ve made in a long time.

We’re still working through finding our boundaries and discussing our needs, but when he introduced me to the concept of a comet partner, things fell into place. He explained it as a formalized commitment with our friendship as the basis but acknowledging it’s more. Togetherness comes when our orbits cross and time allows. We live a decent distance from one another, and both have responsibilities that need to be prioritized. I love the comet title! It touches my heart in a way that honors my autonomy while also fulfilling my personal need to be seen and acknowledged as someone who holds a special and intentional place in his life.