Me (finding a bottle of lube on the floor in the kitchen in the morning): Oh! Was there phone sex last night?
Spouse (blushing): Um, yeah...
*****
What’s the balance between privacy and openness in a poly relationship? The brainless answer to this and all poly-related questions might seem to be the age-old open and honest communication. But Roe v. Wade, controversial as it still seems to be, pointed out everyone’s right to privacy. And what about a right to not have to see, hear, or think about something you don’t want shoved in your face?
Unlike a lot of open couples, my spouse and I aren’t particularly big on rules. The one “rule” we tend to live by is if we’d be scared to tell each other about the experience, we don’t do it. Even so, just because we’ve had an experience doesn’t mean we tell each other about it (if we didn’t edit our experiences for each other, we’d be in danger of death by overcommunication). Sometimes I’m protecting the privacy of the other person I was with (I was amused rather than annoyed when one of my meta-lovers surprised me by pointing out my deep-seated hatred for Garrison Keillor’s voice, an attribute of mine that’s usually kept at home and that she learned about through my spouse. But that easily could have gone a different way). Sometimes an experience is just not relevant to another person, or there’s not much to be gained from telling, so why bother?
Some things I like to keep private out of convenience. I don’t like people looking over my shoulder at things I’m reading or typing (I happen to be typing this on an airplane, which has a lot of potential for spying), and I certainly expect people to keep their eyes on their own business (my life is interesting enough to not inspire me to peer inappropriately into others’ business, and I expect the same of them). But the reason I like privacy when reading or working isn’t because I feel ashamed of what I’m doing. Usually, when I’m working, I’m in flow. If someone asks about it, there’s usually a lot of background and context that needs to be explained to tell the full story, and that’s not usually worth the time and energy for a quick one-off email or text. Then we’ve wasted a lot of time for very little gratification.
And sometimes, I’m OK with something in theory, but I don’t like to think about the practicality. If there’s an emotional component to that (I’m fine with you being with someone else, but I feel hurt/insecure when I hear details about it), the workaround may be a simple don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy. On the other hand, the reason for not wanting to hear something may be perfectly innocuous, such as boredom (I’m pretty sure my non-spousal primary is fairly fond of me, but that might have something to do with how rarely I spout the emotionally-neutral math-nonsense that’s often occupying my head).
VIPs’ such as lovers’ and meta-lovers’ preferences aside, what about the rest of the world? I’ve clearly offended someone I thought was a good friend by disclosing my open relationship, and one might argue that it was none of her business. That’s true, but how good a friend can they have been if they can’t handle basic information about how I structure my life? People usually know their friends’ spouses/partners. Spouses and partners usually have some form of sex or intimacy with each other. And yet, introducing my spouse to a stranger only puts my life into context (these are two people who are important to each other and make many of their major decisions together), rather than throwing them into a rage of having to imagine all the sex we’ve had in the last decade-plus that we’ve been together. I would really like to have the option of introducing a lover in a way that gives the same context (this is someone who is very important to me, and I’d appreciate your treating them well for my sake. Or, there is a very good reason I visit this person more often than I visit you, and I’d prefer you don’t take it as a sign of weakness in our Platonic friendship) without the backlash.
*****
Questions or comments? Ask me: polysaturated@rocketmail.com.
Spouse (blushing): Um, yeah...
*****
What’s the balance between privacy and openness in a poly relationship? The brainless answer to this and all poly-related questions might seem to be the age-old open and honest communication. But Roe v. Wade, controversial as it still seems to be, pointed out everyone’s right to privacy. And what about a right to not have to see, hear, or think about something you don’t want shoved in your face?
Unlike a lot of open couples, my spouse and I aren’t particularly big on rules. The one “rule” we tend to live by is if we’d be scared to tell each other about the experience, we don’t do it. Even so, just because we’ve had an experience doesn’t mean we tell each other about it (if we didn’t edit our experiences for each other, we’d be in danger of death by overcommunication). Sometimes I’m protecting the privacy of the other person I was with (I was amused rather than annoyed when one of my meta-lovers surprised me by pointing out my deep-seated hatred for Garrison Keillor’s voice, an attribute of mine that’s usually kept at home and that she learned about through my spouse. But that easily could have gone a different way). Sometimes an experience is just not relevant to another person, or there’s not much to be gained from telling, so why bother?
Some things I like to keep private out of convenience. I don’t like people looking over my shoulder at things I’m reading or typing (I happen to be typing this on an airplane, which has a lot of potential for spying), and I certainly expect people to keep their eyes on their own business (my life is interesting enough to not inspire me to peer inappropriately into others’ business, and I expect the same of them). But the reason I like privacy when reading or working isn’t because I feel ashamed of what I’m doing. Usually, when I’m working, I’m in flow. If someone asks about it, there’s usually a lot of background and context that needs to be explained to tell the full story, and that’s not usually worth the time and energy for a quick one-off email or text. Then we’ve wasted a lot of time for very little gratification.
And sometimes, I’m OK with something in theory, but I don’t like to think about the practicality. If there’s an emotional component to that (I’m fine with you being with someone else, but I feel hurt/insecure when I hear details about it), the workaround may be a simple don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy. On the other hand, the reason for not wanting to hear something may be perfectly innocuous, such as boredom (I’m pretty sure my non-spousal primary is fairly fond of me, but that might have something to do with how rarely I spout the emotionally-neutral math-nonsense that’s often occupying my head).
VIPs’ such as lovers’ and meta-lovers’ preferences aside, what about the rest of the world? I’ve clearly offended someone I thought was a good friend by disclosing my open relationship, and one might argue that it was none of her business. That’s true, but how good a friend can they have been if they can’t handle basic information about how I structure my life? People usually know their friends’ spouses/partners. Spouses and partners usually have some form of sex or intimacy with each other. And yet, introducing my spouse to a stranger only puts my life into context (these are two people who are important to each other and make many of their major decisions together), rather than throwing them into a rage of having to imagine all the sex we’ve had in the last decade-plus that we’ve been together. I would really like to have the option of introducing a lover in a way that gives the same context (this is someone who is very important to me, and I’d appreciate your treating them well for my sake. Or, there is a very good reason I visit this person more often than I visit you, and I’d prefer you don’t take it as a sign of weakness in our Platonic friendship) without the backlash.
*****
Questions or comments? Ask me: polysaturated@rocketmail.com.
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