What Polyamory Means to Me
July 7–13 is National Polyamory Week.
I’m usually pretty private about my romantic life, but ever since I started being more open about my sexual orientation (asexual), I’ve noticed how often people have questions about my relationship orientation too. And since polyamory seems to be having a bit of a cultural moment this week, I figured now was a good time to share more about what it means to me, how I navigate it, and some of the biggest lessons I’ve learned along the way.
Quick breakdown for the folks who are new to the term:
Polyamory is the practice of, or desire for, having romantic relationships with more than one partner at the same time, with the informed consent of everyone involved.
Unlike open relationships, which often center one primary partner and include casual connections outside of that core relationship, polyamory involves multiple committed relationships.
These relationships can include emotional intimacy, romantic connection, and sexual partnership, but not every polyamorous relationship includes all three. What matters most is that every connection is consensual and communicative. The foundation of polyamory is the informed, ongoing consent of everyone involved.
Over the years, these are the five questions I’ve been asked the most:
I think I might be polyamorous, but I’m not sure. How did you first know you were poly?
Isn’t that hard? Juggling between multiple relationships? I couldn’t do it. When I love someone, I only care about that one person.
Asexual and polyamorous? How does that even work?
Do you think if you met someone who met all your needs, you’d be monogamous?
Do you ever get jealous?
So…i’m going to answer them ALL.
“I think I might be polyamorous, but I’m not sure. How did you first learn you were poly?”
Totally valid question.
Let me start with how I personally define polyamory. For me, it’s not a lifestyle. It’s an orientation. It’s not something I chose, and it’s not a switch I can turn on and off. It’s just how I’m wired. Being poly means I have the capacity to love and commit to more than one person at the same time. It’s not about novelty or indecision. It’s about an innate ability to hold multiple deep, loving connections.
That doesn’t mean I always have multiple partners. Some polyamorous people are in monogamous relationships by choice. That might be because of their career, their life stage, or because they simply haven’t met someone else they’re compatible with. But the capacity is still there, whether acted on or not.
I’ve always been polyamorous, just like I’ve always been asexual. I just didn’t have the language to articulate either until 2022.
Looking back, my polyamory showed up in subtle but consistent ways. I’d get really sad when a relationship started getting more serious. Not because I didn’t love the person, but because I knew what came next. No more first kisses. No more butterflies. No more room to acknowledge the crushes I still had on other people. That classic vow, “to have and to hold, forsaking all others until death,” always felt more like a sentence than a promise.
As I got older, I found myself wanting to check romantic experiences off some invisible bucket list before “the one” came along and locked the door behind them. I loved falling in love. I loved commitment. I just never understood why commitment had to mean cutting off all possibility of connection with anyone else.
Even in monogamous relationships, I often felt torn. I did have deep affection and love for other people. I just learned to bury it, and that guilt was heavy. Eventually, I realized I’m a multi-layered, multidimensional woman. Just like different friendships bring out different parts of us, different relationships did the same for me. When I finally dated two people at once, openly and honestly, it was the first time I felt fully loved. Fully seen. Like all the parts of me were being nurtured, not just the version that fit one person’s needs.
So if you find yourself questioning monogamy or the expectations that come with it, you might be non-monogamous. And if the idea of multiple loving relationships doesn’t scare you, but actually feels kind of right, you just might be poly.
Isn’t that hard? Juggling multiple relationships? I couldn’t do it. When I love someone, I only care about that one person.
Good for you. You’re monogamous. That means you’re wired in a way where once you develop affection for someone, you don’t have that same kind of connection with anyone else. And that’s beautiful.
I’m not here to convince anyone that polyamory is for everyone. It’s not. Just like monogamy isn’t for everyone.
As I mentioned before, I have the ability to love and commit to multiple people at the same time. It’s not something I force or try to make work. It’s just natural for me. In 2022, I was in my first openly polyamorous relationship with two people at once, and I felt more like myself than I ever had before. What surprised me most was that my deep emotional and romantic connection with one didn’t take anything away from the other. If anything, it fueled it. I felt more expansive, not divided.
Things only got complicated when both of them started wanting me to themselves. And although both of them were seeing other people outside of me, they eventually decided that this dynamic wasn’t working for them. Within two weeks of each other, they both broke up with me. We had been together for eight months.
It hurt like hell. But honestly, it was still the best-case scenario. Because the idea of choosing one over the other felt even worse than the heartbreak of losing them both.
When it comes to capacity, one of the most beautiful things about polyamory is the variety of relationships you can hold. For me, three kinds of partnerships tend to show up in my life most often: anchors, comets, and romantic friendships.
An anchor partner is someone who provides a stable, grounding presence. They’re the most consistent part of your life—not necessarily the most important, but the one you interact with most regularly. There’s reliability, day-to-day connection, and a strong foundation.
A comet partner, on the other hand, is someone you share a deep, meaningful bond with, but see less often. Maybe you live in different cities. Maybe life circumstances keep you apart. But when you do come together, it’s magnetic. These relationships are full of joy, emotional depth, and often feel like a continuation of where you left off. I like to think of comet partners as the human version of Christmas. My favorite comet relationships are rooted in strong friendships, and when we reunite—sometimes after years—there’s space for romance to naturally unfold.
Romantic friendships are another connection I deeply value. These are intimate relationships grounded in love, affection, and emotional closeness. There’s a softness and safety in these connections that feel like home. They live in that beautiful space between friendship and partnership, where the love is real and the bond is strong, but there are no traditional expectations or labels attached. It’s one of my favorite forms of connection.
I consider romantic friends and comets to be lovers, while I see anchors as partners. Each connection holds its own weight and purpose, but not all of them require the same level of time or energy. That’s part of what makes having multiple relationships feel so natural for me.
Asexual and polyamorous? How does that even work?
LOL. This is one of my favorites because it highlights the myth that polyamory is just a nonstop sex fest.
Real polyamory is about connection. And there are so many ways to connect with a partner outside of sex.
For me, my asexual and polyamorous identities go hand in hand. Being ace and poly means that I’m not preventing my partners from getting their sexual desires met, and I’m also not crossing my own boundaries or having sex I don’t want just to “keep the relationship.”
Being poly means I get to connect with partners and lovers in ways that feel most authentic to me (emotionally, romantically, sensually, and even recreationally). It makes intimacy feel expansive and fulfilling. It also makes it more varied and less performative.
And it’s also made so much room for partners and lovers to express how much they appreciate being loved outside of performing sexually and outside of expectations around exclusivity. One of the best compliments I’ve ever received came a few months ago, when one of my partners told me, “You make me feel like a person.”
Honestly, it’s kind of wild to say out loud, but my romantic life is more fulfilling and more delicious because I’m not monogamous and because it doesn’t center sex.
Do you think if you met someone who met all of your needs that you would be monogamous?
Being polyamorous means I’m living in a way that feels most authentic to who I am. Again, it’s an orientation, not just a lifestyle choice. I’d still be polyamorous if I were the only human left on earth.
This isn’t just about wanting multiple partners or lovers who meet different needs, although that can be a perk. It’s really about living a life rooted in freedom of choice and radical honesty. I don’t belong to anyone, and no one belongs to me.
No one will ever have exclusive access to me. No one will ever get to say, “You’re committed to me, so you can’t have meaningful connections with anyone else.” And I will never stand in the way of a partner who wants to explore other connections. That’s not love to me. That’s control.
The only need I have is to be myself. Fully and freely. To live a life that reflects who I am. Monogamy wouldn’t allow that. And even if I’m only with one partner for years, I’m still polyamorous. I still hold the freedom to follow natural connections as they arise.
Do you ever get jealous?
Surprisingly, I haven’t had feelings of jealousy since becoming openly polyamorous. In fact, I’ve experienced the opposite. It’s called compersion.
Compersion is the feeling of joy that comes from witnessing someone else’s happiness, especially when it involves their romantic or sexual connections. For me, there’s something deeply fulfilling about being able to tell my partner about my crushes, other lovers, or new connections. Being able to receive that kind of honesty from them, and celebrate the different forms of love and companionship they have in their life, is beautiful.
I also think being asexual plays a big part in my lack of jealousy. You can’t really be jealous of something you don’t want (lol).
I tend to lean into kitchen table polyamory. I love the idea of having metamours and being friends with my partner’s other partners. There’s something really grounding about that kind of openness and community.
At its core, I think jealousy comes from fear. Fear of being left, replaced, or forgotten. But my partnerships are incredibly secure. They aren’t threatened by love, even when that love exists outside of our connection.
Conclusion
This is just a small glimpse into what polyamory looks like for me. There’s so much more I could say, and so many layers I’m still exploring. But like all my blogs, I wanted to share a piece of my truth in case it gives someone else the language or courage to live more honestly too. At the end of the day, that’s what this is really about. Not about having the same relationship structure as me, but about building a life that feels most true to you.