I’m cranky at Barbenheimer today because not only does it reflect capitalism’s skill at getting us to throw money at it even while we are protesting, but it’s making me jealous in my current situationship. Today, a man I’ve been dating is doing Barbenheimer with another woman. (I stalked her Instagram and saw that she looked very cute in her pink boobalicious top.)
“You’re not allowed to be jealous!” Dave, my husband teases, when I tell him about my jealousy over another man’s woman.
I give him a withering look. I’m sick of this argument for poly people, and he knows it, which is why he’s saying it. This man would definitely poke a bear, which is why we avoid travel in the Rockies.
“Well, I am,” I said.
“I know,” Dave senses he has set off my hair trigger sensitivity reflex. “You’re just honest,” he said.
Monogamy folks often think that poly folks are immune to jealousy, but we aren’t. Like every aspect of any relationship, jealousy varies by partner and situation. Many would assume that jealousy is prominent between Dave, my husband, and me. I’ve definitely had some jealousy when Dave has a special connection with another woman, because I am well aware that I am a huge pain in the ass and time spent with other women will remind him of that. However, over time, I learned that Dave doesn’t mind, nay, LOVES that I’m a huge pain in the ass. Caregiving is his specialty, and he likes taking care of me. But yes, particularly when I’m feeling low self-esteem, I experience some jealousy - less acute, more that I want him to just be home taking care of me RIGHT NOW.
However, both because of my strong security with my husband, as well as the fact that he doesn’t often enter into other “relationships,” I’m much more likely to be jealous of a woman dated by an extramarital lover, like Barbenheimer-Going Guy. While I have a tremendous sense of security that Dave, my family, my partner of 25 years, loves me and wants to stick around, I have zero security built up with new individuals. If someone new makes me feel really good - I’m susceptible to fear that this new relationship will go away.
Take Barbenheimer-Going Guy. We’ve only been dating about a month. We have exchanged body fluids but not middle names. It’s new and it’s great, but it’s fragile as fuck.
It goes back to New Relationship Energy, and the tendency for new relationships to make me feel so good (and good about myself). Barbenheimer-Going Guy makes me feel all beautiful and smart and sexy and funny all the time, AND GOD DAMMIT NO GIANT TITTIED BARBIE BITCH IS GOING TO TAKE THAT AWAY FROM ME.
(She actually looks like a lovely person. I hold no animosity towards her until - GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY DOM!)
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Jealousy is rooted in insecurity, in lacking. It is a glass half-empty emotion. Rather than be grateful for the half cup of water when parched, we are dismayed it’s not full. We want it all. Especially if it’s fizzy water. Or someone who really complements your kink.
While jealousy is different for everyone, my jealous tendencies are rooted both in insecurities learned over life, as well as the realities of dating as a polyamorous woman in a monogamous world. Yes, my tendency to engage in upward social comparison with every woman I encounter and firmly ingrained memories of unrequited teenage love may make me predisposed to dating insecurity - but in reality, I do get dumped often. Because I’m married.
I mean, duh. It’s a monog world. If you want to date only polyamorous people, you might have a small pool to choose from - if you live in L.A., New York (or someplace sex-crazed like Paris or Springfield, Missouri). But it’s a small pool. If you’re trying to be polyamorous outside of a progressive bubble, or often even while living within one, it’s really tricky to find like-minded others. So, like many polyamorous people, I have often dated single people, and have learned that single, monogamy-minded men have no fucking clue how to fit a married women into their personal schema of romance and love.
But oh, they are willing to try. For a minute. Until they cum.
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Back in Chicago, I was making out one night in the bathroom of punk-rock Cobra Lounge after a roller derby bout. (Many, many shenanigans occurred in this bathroom. It was funner to party in the bathroom than the actual bar.) I had been dating a guy, Gerald, met through derby after-parties, and he had recently become annoyed at my repeated requests for affection and visits. That evening, I fully expected him to ignore me, so when he showed a willingness to communicate, I collapsed my mouth into his right next to the urinal, the scent of gâteau d'urinoi flowing through my nostrils.
“I like you a lot,” he said, hand in my bra. “But I can’t be like, a boyfriend.”
I nodded sheepishly, embarrassed that I had craved an emotional connection so clearly off-limits for me, a married woman.
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A lot of single men are open to dating a polyamorous woman because they believe she will be an easy lay. When a woman becomes even remotely vocal about her sexuality, dudes start to see her holes as Old Country Buffet. Most men I’ve dated tend to view me as temporary, an in-between-er, someone low-maintenance for good poke until a “real” girlfriend comes along.
(Haha, if they ONLY KNEW how high-maintenance I was about to become! TEXT ME NOW, boy.)
After satiating their poly girl curiosity, or general horniness, the men I’ve dated often move back to monogamy vibes. Nearly all of the men I’ve dated did have an ultimate plan to “settle down.” Thus, I simply couldn’t be around for too long, lest I get in the way of their “real dating” plans. But this seemed like a reasonable flow. After all, I did have a primary partner. Reasonable or not, it created an inevitable cycle of break-ups. For monogamous men, there was simply no place for their relationship with me to go.
A similar pattern has often been lamented in tropes about “the other woman,” the one who isn’t good enough for the man to leave his wife, but is good enough to satisfy his loins. We rarely see this trope in a gender reversal, where a poor lonely single man is left devastated because his lover refuses to leave her husband. (Certainly, it happens, but it’s far from a stereotype.) Men are still often taught that there are women for marrying and there are slutty women for fun times, and there is no overlap in their Venn Diagram. Certainly, this mentality has manifested in my experiences with dating single men.
Even recently, in LA, I met a very attractive man who was all about me until I revealed that I was married in a consensually non-monogamous relationship. He vocalized that he would fuck me but had no interest in getting to know me better otherwise.
So yeah, when I meet a new guy and I really like him, I do get jealous - because eventually, nearly all men cease dating me for a woman they can be monogamous with. At least four men I’ve dated seriously have gotten engaged to the woman they dated immediately after me. But most of them didn’t make it that long. They bailed when they realized I wanted to have, like, a conversation after sex. Or maybe go out for tacos once and a while. And obviously I wanted them to text me at least every couple days.
I know, poor me. I get to fuck all these guys but only a few of them love me. Too bad I’m a love whore and not a sex whore.
So what’s a poly girl to do? It depends on your level of self-awareness and personal emotional needs. For me, dating “single” (monogamy-minded) men stopped being worthwhile, even though there are gobs of them out here in the cesspool that is L.A. (Especially in the comedy community - but I wouldn’t recommend fishing for responsible men there.)
Now, if I want to bother dating, I try to find folks open to a range of relationship situations. For example, I’ve dated men who were comfortable with Dave, because he was around prior to them dating me, but have had discomfort with me dating other “new” men. With these partners, I stopped dating others, and essentially became “di-amorous,” a word I thought I made up but naturally already exists on Reddit. We had a social contract where I committed to two men, and agreed not to date any others. I have also dated men who have, at least temporarily, stopped dating other women to explore a deeper connection with me. That’s the beauty of polyamory - there are no rules! The parameters are drawn by the individuals’ respective needs, and are always open to re-negotiation - and I’m going through that re-negotiation right now.
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In addition, I’ve developed more empathy toward the single men I do date. They deserve to have their needs met as much as I do. I am more understanding of boundaries, and of their confusion in navigating a relationship with a poly woman - because it’s hard for them too. I’m grateful for the time I’ve had with the people I’ve dated who have left for monogamy. I used to be sad that I would lose them, and certainly still am, but I’m also happy that they’ve found what they wanted deep down.
Lately, as a very-slightly-more-well-adjusted adult, I try to welcome a challenge to my jealousy, because I know it's a manifestation of fear that I want to work through. Sure, jealousy makes me crabby, like with Barbenheimer-Going Guy, but allows me to reflect on why I’m feeling the way I do - what does it say about my confidence? What does it say about my interest in this other person? In the past, I would’ve hidden much of my jealousy from partners (or acted out in a distinctly passive aggressive manner, such as one-word text responses), because I was afraid to turn them away but wanted them to feel my scarcity, my value. Now, I try to be honest and vocal about it. The worthwhile partners are willing to hear my emotions. When I date now, it’s with people who want some kind of real connection with me.
Cognitive training helps with jealousy. I know, in the deep recesses of my rational pre-frontal cortex, that my self-worth is not identified by the men I date. However, emotional reasoning is driven by primal values (need for safety/avoiding fear, reproductive urge/passion) and experiences rather than logic. As much as I want to be rational, my emotional brain can’t help but freak out sometimes. Someday I will complete my Vulcan training and become fully rational, but until then, cognitive behavioral therapy helps me do the rigorous work to change my deeply laid beliefs and norms. Transitioning to polyamorous thinking is not an on/off switch. As relationships change, so will our understanding and emotions.
It’s important to note that while jealousy is the most commonly discussed emotion people experience when dealing with non-monogamy, transitions to your partner(s) dating others can result in a number of unwelcome emotions: anger, disappointment, even revulsion. What do these feelings mean about your emotions and beliefs?
If you’re reading this, you’re probably at least curious about navigating an open relationship. (Or you just really love my content, hair toss.) Are you open to the hard work of reflecting on your jealousy (not to mention shame and some other emotions)? If not, polyamory might not be for you.
In my experience, jealousy can ultimately be managed, if I really value a person and want their happiness to be tantamount. But if I’m not in that mental place yet, and am acting out of NRE*-grubbing mania rather than genuine caring, jealousy is more likely. In addition, jealousy is mediated and moderated by many factors that have nothing to do with the relationship at hand - grief, a bad script review, hormone fluctuations, etc. And I always have to check myself on those variables before proceeding as well.
If you’re interested in doing that witchy shadow work with your jealous self, check out this guide to navigating jealousy from a polyamory coach (which I guess is a thing) at the always keeping-it-real The Cut. Don’t forget: use caution when taking advice from folks on the internet. Most are not trained counselors, nor are they aware of your unique situation.
*Note: For brevity, terms like “guys, men” refer to cis-gender men and societal norms they typically hold dear, unless otherwise stated.
Names and identifying details have been changed.
