It’s easy to feel loved when there’s one-on-one, face-to-face interaction with your lover (ideally). What happens when there’s more than one person to focus on at a time?
Any number of things, of course, but let’s take the simple case of a V. In this model, one person acts as the center and has two lovers involved with them, but the two lovers are not involved with each other. I’m part of three V’s (for this story, at least); in one, I’m the center, and in two others, I’m one of the arms. I’ve found something interesting that happens when all the members of the V get together: they get pissed off. More specifically, the arms get pissed off at the center.
Let’s start our discussion talking about me. I’m the center. I had two lovers in tow, and it became obvious that one was feeling hurt, so I gave that one extra attention. Since time is finite, even if affection is not, the lover who was doing fine at first got ticked off with the sudden status change. So I had two lovers who were hurt, and nobody who was happy (well, I was, but that’s different). Turns out I find it really, really hard to make everyone in the room feel adequately loved if there’s more than one of them. Just in case you’re wondering, everyone was civil, and everyone expressed themselves and their needs to me without blaming each other. We’re just going to be really careful about getting all of us together in the same room again.
So what happens to me when I’m off to the side? I’m also part of a V where I’m one of the two lovers of a central main squeeze. The other arm and I are starting to interact independently, but the center is always coloring the interaction so far and therefore remains firmly in the middle. And guess what? Whenever we get together (this includes and might really be more pronounced when there are only two in the room and the third is a topic of conversation), the arms get pissed off. Here’s what’s interesting: the arms both recognize each other’s pain, empathize with each other, get together, and gang up on the center. Ouch. But we really try to do it kindly.
So what can be done?
I’ve been very happy as an external point in a V with my spouse and another of their lovers. My spouse is really, really good at this. I think what happens is that I get all the attention I want when we’re alone together, and when another lover comes in the room, I’m so completely fulfilled that I wouldn’t care if I were ignored completely. It’s very easy to dote attention on another person when I feel like I’ve gotten all the attention I need (I’ve been accused, out-of-character, of being “giving” in this sort of situation). That might count as cheating because it’s extremely easy for live-in spouses to pay attention to each other (then again, my spouse was one of the parties of the V where I’m the center, so it’s not foolproof to just have a spouse involved). How do other lovers manage to get enough time/attention/needs met?
Some people choose to keep all of the lovers separate. I must admit this makes life pretty easy, in the same way that monogamy makes life pretty easy. If you don’t have to see love directed at someone else, you don’t have to wonder where you fit in.
I’ve noticed that in all of these examples, the external points of the V don’t necessarily know each other well. Does it get better when everyone has strong and independent relationships, such as happens in the case of large families with lots of kids? Is there a set of protocols (my favorite being: focus on the person in front of you. But what happens if there’s more than one?!?!) that might be followed to make this sort of situation work? Is it that much harder to make three people happy in a micro-time-scale situation than it is to make two? Are the variables involved with three people so complex that they can’t be generalized?
I’ll do some experiments. And I’ll report back when I find out.
Until then, questions and comments can be addressed to polysaturated@rockemail.com. I’d be very happy to tackle a question to which I do know the answer for next time.
Any number of things, of course, but let’s take the simple case of a V. In this model, one person acts as the center and has two lovers involved with them, but the two lovers are not involved with each other. I’m part of three V’s (for this story, at least); in one, I’m the center, and in two others, I’m one of the arms. I’ve found something interesting that happens when all the members of the V get together: they get pissed off. More specifically, the arms get pissed off at the center.
Let’s start our discussion talking about me. I’m the center. I had two lovers in tow, and it became obvious that one was feeling hurt, so I gave that one extra attention. Since time is finite, even if affection is not, the lover who was doing fine at first got ticked off with the sudden status change. So I had two lovers who were hurt, and nobody who was happy (well, I was, but that’s different). Turns out I find it really, really hard to make everyone in the room feel adequately loved if there’s more than one of them. Just in case you’re wondering, everyone was civil, and everyone expressed themselves and their needs to me without blaming each other. We’re just going to be really careful about getting all of us together in the same room again.
So what happens to me when I’m off to the side? I’m also part of a V where I’m one of the two lovers of a central main squeeze. The other arm and I are starting to interact independently, but the center is always coloring the interaction so far and therefore remains firmly in the middle. And guess what? Whenever we get together (this includes and might really be more pronounced when there are only two in the room and the third is a topic of conversation), the arms get pissed off. Here’s what’s interesting: the arms both recognize each other’s pain, empathize with each other, get together, and gang up on the center. Ouch. But we really try to do it kindly.
So what can be done?
I’ve been very happy as an external point in a V with my spouse and another of their lovers. My spouse is really, really good at this. I think what happens is that I get all the attention I want when we’re alone together, and when another lover comes in the room, I’m so completely fulfilled that I wouldn’t care if I were ignored completely. It’s very easy to dote attention on another person when I feel like I’ve gotten all the attention I need (I’ve been accused, out-of-character, of being “giving” in this sort of situation). That might count as cheating because it’s extremely easy for live-in spouses to pay attention to each other (then again, my spouse was one of the parties of the V where I’m the center, so it’s not foolproof to just have a spouse involved). How do other lovers manage to get enough time/attention/needs met?
Some people choose to keep all of the lovers separate. I must admit this makes life pretty easy, in the same way that monogamy makes life pretty easy. If you don’t have to see love directed at someone else, you don’t have to wonder where you fit in.
I’ve noticed that in all of these examples, the external points of the V don’t necessarily know each other well. Does it get better when everyone has strong and independent relationships, such as happens in the case of large families with lots of kids? Is there a set of protocols (my favorite being: focus on the person in front of you. But what happens if there’s more than one?!?!) that might be followed to make this sort of situation work? Is it that much harder to make three people happy in a micro-time-scale situation than it is to make two? Are the variables involved with three people so complex that they can’t be generalized?
I’ll do some experiments. And I’ll report back when I find out.
Until then, questions and comments can be addressed to polysaturated@rockemail.com. I’d be very happy to tackle a question to which I do know the answer for next time.
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