There are enough of us up here, tucked away in the hills and towns, to have some interesting social fun, to get to know one another, and to get the cider fermenting. For those who might hesitate, I can assure you that once a concept has made both Newsweek and the Oxford English Dictionary, it is sufficiently mainstream that you don't have to mutter "I'm not so weird, I'm not so weird" under your breath on the way to your first potluck dinner. This, by the way, I will host in my photo studio Valentine's Day weekend (contact instructions are at the end of this article). Am also open to doing evening or day workshops (I have presented dozens—everywhere but locally). Perhaps seeing if a local establishment is open to hosting a public mixer once a month. We can publicize that, and find out who we are.
Here is something you may not have thought of, vis-à-vis poly. We can all name gay and lesbian celebrities. Can you name one openly polyamorous celebrity? Obviously they exist. But who are they?
Poly folk have a few odd things in common. We tend to be a bit bookish. We love a good theory; we tend to read and write about our way of life. A lot of talking is involved. There's a fantasy among many that being poly is like one endless night in the old Penthouse mansion at the peak of the 1970s. Every now and then it might be, though usually it's pretty different from that. Some of us consider ourselves social engineers, helping design and build better structures and concepts of human interaction. Most of us just want to love the way it's natural for us to love.
The poly movement got its start in science fiction novels, particularly Stranger in a Strange Land by Robert A. Heinlein. The upshot of that story is that a human born and raised on Mars, by Martians (named Valentine Michael Smith), was returned to Earth by his foster parents. He lacked the typical human hang-ups (guilt, body shame, mendacity, limits imposed on his capacity to love) and, as a result, he manifested a very friendly scene. He was a good kisser.
That was a book. It turns out that nonfiction humans are less monogamous than they claim to be. But the thing that makes a person polyamorous is being up front about that fact.
Then two questions always arise: What about jealousy? and What about the kids?
Jealousy is a factor in most relationships, particularly monogamous ones. As we all know, presumed exclusivity does not address the issue itself. Usually it's swept under the rug by the presumption of monogamy or by not telling one's partner about an affair because "that would hurt them." Polyamory takes jealousy as a teacher. The matter is put right out onto the table. When you can look at it, it's no longer the daunting monster that it seems to be when left in the closet. It becomes the basis of a growth and healing process designed to unearth and address the insecurity, envy, and lack of self-esteem beneath the surface.
One of the first concepts that anyone stepping into polyamory finds out about is compersion. That is the experience of being turned on by the love and pleasure of the people you care about. Some say it's the opposite of jealousy; I say it's an alternate universe of a world where jealousy is a ubiquitous toxin. Compersion is like taking a Buddhist approach to relationships. It is an emotion, but it's also an approach to existence. It is the equivalent in polyamorous relationships to oxygen in the biological world.
As for the kids, I don't think that any conventional form of relationship can, in practice, claim to be inherently good for kids. Rather, it's how we conduct those relationships: the content rather than the form. There are some truly functional marriages—but not all of them are. Monogamy used to be set in the context of an extended family. There was always a sister, aunt, or uncle around to watch the kids. In many contemporary marriage-based households where two parents work, the kids are neglected. If the parents don't get along, the kids will suffer no matter how monogamous the parents are.
