Polyamory Observations #17

I've watched with a jaundiced eye as the media has scrambled to make sure that we are all awash in the sordid details of high profile monogamous marriages gone terribly wrong.  Through the powers of a media machine that lives and breathes through a 24/7 news cycle, we've been privy to the messy details of the drama between Tiger Woods and his wife, Elin Nordgren.  Likewise, most recently, we've been treated to the sad story of Oscar winning actress, Sandra Bullock, her husband, Jesse James and his tattooed porn star mistress.  Part of me is inclined to shrug it off with a slightly irritated, "and we care because?"  On the other hand, I think there is something to be learned in these high profile relationship trainwrecks -- a bit of information about the way we think about and conceive of love and committment in this culture.

What strikes me about these two broken marriages is that they act as signposts, pointing to our culturally normative, idealized fantasy of monogamous, forever, 'til death do us part matrimony.  Here we have beautiful people with all the advantages and privilege that are conferred on the wealthy and attractive in our society -- and their apparently storybook romances seemingly cannot survive in spite of all of that.  There are probably dozens of sociological ways to study and analyze these marital disasters, but here's the thing that occurs to me just now...

We, and by "we" I mean women, marry for a lot of reasons.  We make a whole bunch of assumptions and we invest in lots and lots of intellectual and emotional bargains (many of them unspoken) for all the things that we hope will come to us as a result of the promises we make.  Perhaps the most essential, most intrinsic thing of value that women expect to gain from their monogamous marriages is the belief that they will be held as "special" within this relationship.  Wives trust that, within the context of their marriage relationship, there will be a reserved and private space shared only by two.  There will be a line between the "outside" world and the inner world occupied by two lovers become husband and wife.  The husband is, conceptually, property of the marriage and of his wife, even as she becomes "his."  What they create between them, in intimate terms, is considered to be unique to them and not to be shared beyond the bounds of their couple-ness. 

That belief in being special, being unique, having access that is denied to everyone else is so foundational to our view of traditional marriage that it becomes impossible for most women/wives to even contemplate the possibility that a good husband might become involved outside that dyadic limit.  If it happens, it is unbelievably, almost insurmountably destructive.  The whole sugar-candy construct crumbles, and there is simply no way forward out of the morass of shame and betrayal and anger and hurt.

It is part of what makes it so difficult for many if not most to comprehend those who live polyamorously.  To be poly, one must, from the outset, give up the notion of being special, unique, or of some sort of singular value.  For poly lovers, there is nothing that necessarily or definitively belongs only to the pair of lovers.  Everything is open once the relational boundary becomes open.  Lovers, because they love one another, might "take care" of one another and act respectfully with regard to crossing lines and protecting sensibilities.  It is the polite and grown up way to manage these things, after all.  So, there might be some sort of negotiated courtesies that partners agree to -- "don't bring your lover into our bed," for example, but there are no rock bottom assumptions or guarantees.

Coming face to face with that blunt reality is enough to give most people pause.  Over and over again, I've had other women tell me that they couldn't/wouldn't share their partner in this fashion -- and I understand.  It isn't the sharing, really.  We mostly learn to share nicely by the time we are in grade school, and the vast majority of reasonable people can share just fine in other areas of their life.  Too, none of us who've ever parented more than one child really believes that it is impossible to love more than one person simultaneously.  What causes us to come smack up against our own personal "NO," with regard to poly is that realization that we can't BE POLY and BE SPECIAL.  As critical as it seems to be for those rich and famous folks to feel special, and unique in their relationships; it is even more essential for most of the merely mortal, regular gals among us (those of us who have our wrinkles and deficiencies) to have the assurance that we really are IT. 

I see the notion of polyamory gaining ground, especially among young, hip, avant garde adventurers in their 20's and 30's.  It is the newest, hottest thing to be "into" poly; creating vast, complicated webs of tangled up relatedness that has people swapping partners in just about every conceivable configuration.  Some seem to believe that the trend is toward wider social acceptance of poly relatedness -- driven by the sheer numbers.  I am not entirely convinced.  Those young, randy trend setters will have to deal with growing up and living life and aging, and I wonder if, as time takes it toll, some significant number of them will find it more than just a bit challenging to keep on being just one among many...  nothing special, no more cherished or valued than anyone else.

swan