More Than Two: A Practical Guide to Ethical Polyamory (44 page)

Shared calendars can also pose a couple of special problems in poly. If a person doesn't feel her needs are being met, but sees on her partner's calendar the time he is spending with other partners (or doing other things), this can trigger jealousy. Some people find it easy to slip into feeling that unscheduled time should be theirs—it can be easy to forget that time for one's self is just as (or more) important, and is not a snub. Also, if Joe has write access to Jane's calendar, and Jane trusts him to schedule events without asking, Joe needs to remember that the time he is scheduling does not belong to him.

Different people have very different boundaries around sharing calendars and assumptions about what sharing means. For some it's a deeply intimate exchange, while for others it's just a logistical convenience. Discussing these meanings can help avoid misunderstandings and heartache.

ZERO-SUM AND INCLUSIVE RELATIONSHIPS

People new to polyamory often fear that embarking on this road means giving up time; every minute that your partner's other partner gets is a minute that you don't, right? That need not be true—if you and your partner's other partner get along well. When you can spend time with your partner together with his or her other lover, a minute given to that person does not necessarily mean a minute taken away from you.

Time-management issues can be eased or worsened by how comfortable you all are spending time together as a group, and whether you can get some of the same things from group time as from dyad time. That is, how much time needs to be one-on-one, and how much can be shared activities? Is your time a zero-sum affair, to be carved up among your different partners and other commitments, or are you able to take a more inclusive approach, where parts of your relationships and time are shared?

There is no right answer, though you often hear people forcefully arguing for one approach or another. Each approach has benefits and trade-offs, and some people are simply better suited for one approach than another. Watch out if you end up in relationships with people who are suited to different approaches—the styles often don't mix well. Both of us, happily, like spending time with all our partners together. We also don't feel cheated if another comes along with the two of us, if it's someone we both get along with. When this works, it's a tremendous benefit: We've met some awesome people through our partners, people who have become friends independent of our connection by dating the same person.

But if you assume that your relationships
have
to be inclusive, one of your partners may find himself spending a lot of time in the presence of someone he doesn't much care for. Each person needs to be able to set boundaries without blame. As much as we may crave inclusive relationships, it's not okay to force them. It's not okay to try to shame or threaten our partners into liking each other, even when, as we've seen happen, you're angry at them for not getting along. If an important relationship is contingent on any other relationship, this can introduce a strain that is not just about getting along, but about feeling like something deep in you is being violated—a loss of consent. If your partners are to be free from coercion, then separate time, or even complete separation, needs to remain an option.

Of course, there are consequences of such zero-sum relationships. Intimacy will be affected. And you may have to grieve for what is lost when those boundaries are set. Those losses may include one or more of your relationships. But don't blame. It needs to be okay, in every moment, for your partners to set boundaries—with you, and with each other.

TYRANNY OF THE CALENDAR

With a few exceptions, poly people are good at time management—or learn to be good at it out of necessity. So good at it, in fact, that many of us treat our calendars like games of Tetris, seeing how much we can pack into a day, week or month. We're scheduled to the hilt. Among poly people, you'll often hear complaints like these:

"I feel like I have to make an appointment to be with my husband."

"I wish I could be more spontaneous."

"Sometimes I just really feel like I need to be with Greg, but I have

to keep my date with Alice."

"I'm exhausted. I don't have any time for myself."

We tend to have lots of commitments—not just relationships, but work, projects, social lives. Many of us sometimes end up feeling like all our time is allocated to other people—even like we've lost control over our lives.

When Eve (briefly, for a couple of months) had four partners, three of whom were local, she often found herself committed to each of them one night a week, with business engagements at least two nights, and social engagements on the seventh. She began to feel like an automaton, numbly moving from one commitment to the next, with little room—it felt—for personal choice and zero room for spontaneity or self-care. And she felt helpless in the face of this: she loved her partners, and each one of them needed and deserved her time. She came to call this state "the tyranny of the calendar."

Less extreme examples also prevail. In the flush of a new relationship, it's normal to crave the presence of a new partner almost constantly. Or when you're going through a breakup and are heartbroken, maybe all you want to do is hide in your room watching
Doctor Who
and eating pints of Ben & Jerry's. It can be difficult to balance your desire to be with someone when your calendar says you need to be elsewhere. But part of personal integrity is showing up and meeting your commitments. Blowing off dates with your long-standing partners—or your kids—to go running through a sunbeam-filled meadow with your new shiny isn't going to win you points in the integrity department.

So it’s important to keep your commitments, to show up—not just physically, but with your whole heart. When you’re with someone, work on being present with her. She will feel it if you’re not, and if it happens enough, it will damage your relationship with her. Maybe someone else is on your mind, but the person you’ve committed your time to is in front of you
right now
. This is essentially a practice of
mindfulness
—being fully present with each of our loves, and open to the person we’re with in the moment—and it’s an advanced but essential poly skill that isn’t often discussed. It takes years to become good at. But it makes us better partners.

And in all this, don't forget that you need to make time for yourself. Avoid the mistake Eve made in scheduling herself 24/7. Now she blocks off time on her calendar as "Eve time," and everyone who shares her calendar sees this. We know quite a few poly people who forget this. Taking time for yourself can be crucial in maintaining the emotional balance required for the other challenging aspects of being poly.

WHO OWNS YOUR TIME?

One of the default assumptions that many of us carry from monogamous culture is that in a long-term relationship, especially when we live with a partner, our partner's time becomes "ours" by default. So when he chooses to do something social that's independent of us, it's outside the norm—and thus can feel like he's taking away something that rightfully belongs to us.

AUDREY'S STORY
From the beginning, Audrey and Joseph have planned their time together around their many pre-existing commitments. Joseph and his wife, Jasmine, have a standing three evenings and one weekend day together. Joseph and Audrey have two evenings a week together. What little remains of Joseph's time isn't specifically allocated, and he considers it his—but in practice, with home and family commitments, it's usually spent at home. Even though that time does not "belong" to Jasmine, Jasmine sees it as an
opportunity
to spend time with Joseph; thus, when Joseph spends some of his free time with Audrey, Jasmine feels it as a loss.

Jasmine has always been concerned about how "big" the relationship with Audrey will become. Will they let their time "creep" and eventually take over the marriage? This has not happened in the decade-long relationship, but Jasmine still wants Joseph to agree to a limit—which he is unwilling to do. Joseph is willing to say what time he
will
spend with Jasmine, and the amount of time above that that he expects to be home to meet his responsibilities, but has been unwilling to agree to a specific limit on his relationship with Audrey.

Joseph and Audrey are working from an intent to honor pre-existing commitments, allocating time to those first, with the
result
being that their own relationship is limited in time. Jasmine wants to
start
from a time limit and define that first. Although the end result may be the same—Joseph and Audrey's time is constrained—Jasmine hasn't gained the reassurance she needs, because of the lack of a cap. Audrey characterizes the underlying issue as one of different ideas about who Joseph's time belongs to.

Understand and accept that each person owns his own time. A relationship, even one designated "primary," does not confer ownership of another person's time. When someone gives time to his partners, it is just that—a gift. While promises can certainly be made, and should be honored, gifts of time in the absence of promises do not constitute entitlements for similar gifts in the future. People can (and should) express their needs and wants, and a skilled pivot will take these into account when choosing how to allocate time.

Such an approach can benefit you and your partners in a few ways. First, if you start from the premise that you are an autonomous adult responsible for your own allocation of time, your partners will be less likely to see you as a commodity to be fought over. Second, if you start from the assumption that your time is yours until it's given to someone, this reduces (but doesn't eliminate) the possibility that a partner will see time given to another as a personal loss. But, perhaps most importantly, when you understand that time spent with a partner is a
gift
and not an
entitlement
, this will help you cultivate a sense of gratitude for it, and gratitude is a powerful shield against jealousy and fear.

FAIRNESS BEGINS WITH COMPASSION

"That's not fair!" Below a certain age, we hear people say this all the time. Past that age our vision gets longer, and we learn that fairness operates best on a global, not a local, scale. If you did the dishes last night and it's your sister's turn tonight, but she isn't doing the dishes because she just got back from dental surgery, it may seem unfair to you from a purely selfish perspective…but really, would you want to trade places with her? And if you were the one who'd just been through the root canal, wouldn't you appreciate a pass on the dishes tonight? Sometimes compassion dictates that a rigid schedule should change.

By the time we're adults, we've pretty much figured this out. That, or we've just given in to exhaustion and stopped worrying so much about what's "fair" on such a granular level. Yet in relationships, and
especially
in polyamorous relationships, the little whisperings of our five-year-old selves poke through and say, "That's not fair!" when things don't go the way we expect. Even when we don't talk about our expectations. Even when we know our expectations are silly. Hell, sometimes even when what's happening is not only fair, but most excellent as well. When you're balancing more than one partner, you will surely hear this sentiment. The words may change, but the meaning is predictably constant: "That's not fair!"

In dealing with human beings, issues of "fairness" sometimes need to go right out the window. People change and needs change, but often our notions about what is "fair" remain static, so deeply buried that we're not even aware of them. The fairness that is important in relationships isn't the tit-for-tat "I did the dishes last night, so it isn't fair that I have to do them tonight too!" variety. In fact, sometimes a tit-for-tat approach to fairness creates a situation that's decidedly
unfair
. In chapter 13, you read about Franklin's acquaintance who demanded that her husband break up with his girlfriend and told him "I'll break up with my girlfriend too, so it will be fair." Three broken hearts for the price of one is a peculiar definition of the word
fair,
and it illustrates an important point:
Symmetry is not the same thing as fairness.

The kind of fairness that really counts is the kind that begins with compassion. Doing the dishes two days in a row because your sister has just had a root canal is compassionate (we've both had root canals, and believe us, the last thing you want to be doing when the anesthetic wears off is standing upright). On the other hand, saying "I'll dump my partner of many years just to get you to dump yours" is hardly compassionate. Fairness means saying things like "I realize that my insecurity belongs to me, so I will not use it as a blunt instrument on you, nor expect you to plot your life around it. I may, however, ask you to talk to me while I'm dealing with it."