How You Might Be Polyamorous Without Even Knowing

By Wade Addison

As of late I’ve been thinking more and more about how emotional and sexual intelligence intersect, especially within those of us who identify as queer – whether we’re LGBTIQ or just fluid in our sexuality or gender identity. You could even identify as cisgender and straight – either way, you’ve somehow thrown off the shackles of societal norms and in some way, shape, or form, you’re unconventional.

I appreciate hearing about unconventional relationships, like the new monogamy, anything that falls outside of what we were taught to believe during childhood and adolescence. It challenges my perceptions and molds my perspective on relationships as a whole. It’s refreshing.

And polyamory has been a refreshing concept as of late. It’s a topic I know is practiced by many – although not all need to define it. But alas, I love theories and conceptual thinking, so I’ll use that term for the purpose of having a concept to explore.

Like any concept that may seem foreign or unknown, it intrigues me. Not just because it’s shiny and new for my still young and naive self, but also because there’s a recognition of understanding within my gut. I “get” polyamory. Or at least I think I’ve started to get it.

The term polyamory, quite literally, means “many loves.” Which is beautiful in its own right.

And while it can mean being part of a throuple or another dynamic in which more than two people are joined in a relationship, it can also mean having more than one lover.

And having more than one lover is something that I, in my seemingly perpetual state of singledom, can easily relate to.

I’ve had many lovers – not to be confused with “lays” or “fucks” – there’s a difference. You know a lover.

A lover provides a deeper connection. A lover gives you butterflies. A lover looks into your soul and sees your beauty in all its magnitude. A lover respects you. A lover desires to please you and appreciates your desire to please them. A lover is in tune to your emotions and physical well being. A lover lights you up and introduces you to sexual dynamism and frontiers that you have never experienced. A lover cares for you and allows you to care for them. It’s mutual. It’s undeniable. And it’s often a forever thing. After all, who can love someone one day and then forget them or deny the shared connection the next?

On the other hand, a lay or a fuck is just that. The sex is transactional or monotonous or mechanic or all of the above. It’s often fleeting or sparkless. Not to say it isn’t pleasurable or enjoyable, but it’s not the same.

And while I’ve had a good number of lovers and lays, it’s the lovers who I remember. It’s the lovers who are rarely the same. And it’s the lovers who last.

I have the lover who lives in another country. We’re not speaking at the moment, as he told me he’s going to focus on his relationship there. Plus, when we last spoke I wasn’t anywhere close to being able to fathom a healthy relationship with him. And the fact that I was a drunk lunatic with him at times probably doesn’t help. But now I can imagine reconnecting. I can see that he had no intentions to hurt me during the course of our year and half, on-and-off-again relationship. I think we’ll speak again some day. We’ll probably make love again some day, too. Or at least I hope we do.

I have the lover who lives in the South. It started hot and heavy. The chemistry was and is too good to deny. We poured a lot of energy into one another, and quickly. We poured out emotions and had difficult conversations about our past experiences and their impact on our present selves. We talked about when we were with someone else, physically or emotionally. And there wasn’t any animosity. But things have faded between us. I think It’s one of those right-time-right-place scenarios. Regardless, there’s no bated breath or expectations.

I have the lover who lives in Los Angeles. We first met on a dance floor in West Hollywood. I bought him an iron when I was there once during his birthday (because all grown men should have an iron). We can makeout with one another for hours. He brings out a silly side of me, makes me feel carefree, and calls me “Moosh.” And I’m okay if he calls other guys that too, because he’s free to do so.

I have the lover who is 23 and the lover who is 53. I have the lover who has been married for years and the lover who, like me, hasn’t yet found their home base.

I have a range of lovers and I predict I always will, in some way, shape, or form.

I love connecting. I love the cerebral. I love the emotional. I love the physical. I love the dance, the courting, the domination, the submission, the vulnerability, the understanding, the recognition, the locked eyes, the trust, the embrace, the kiss – all of it. I love the various stages, aspects, versions and realities that come with loving another human being or multiple human beings at once, especially when it’s on a level much deeper than one usually finds. When it’s much more than just another lay.

I love the concept of polyamory.

I see it not as a taboo or a something forbidden, but as a gift that we’re meant to enjoy. Polyamory allows us to expand our minds and relationships beyond our existing frameworks and borders. It frees us from guilt and shame and gives us an opportunity to share unique and magical times with other beings who want the same as us – to love and be loved.