“So I know it might sound a little weird,” she said. “But I’m basically mono/poly right now. I mean, I’m not. I could totally see someone when he goes out with my metamours. It’s not that I’m opposed or anything. But I’m taking all the time I would be dating other people and doing other stuff.”
“That doesn’t sound weird at all,” I said. “You’re an underdater.”
“Yeah. I’m the same way. My writing’s a second relationship. And then I spend a night with this great woman every once in a great while.”
“And party makeouts!” she said.
“Yes, party makeouts,” I agreed.
We sighed in unison, as if on cue.
“You’re not mono at all,” I said.
“Nope, you have two primaries. Him.” I poured her some more wine. “And yourself.”
“I’ll drink to that.”
Once upon a time, I was a busy hinge, pulled in ever so many directions. Sometimes it was really fun. I loved the layers of feelings, the variety of experiences. And having more people to talk to about the things that mattered most to me? Well, it was great.
But it wasn’t all upside.
When I was polysaturated, what I missed most of all was having time to myself. Not just having the opportunity to be alone but also feeling like I had first “dibs” on my availability.
As more lovers entered my life, the hardest part was feeling like I was beholden to more people. This caused constant strain as their needs and desires conflicted. Coordinating standing appointments was like solving a quadratic equation. I had to check in with more people. Things got even worse if partners refused to schedule or just expected me to be available. To drop everything when they were free.
Nowadays, I love that I get to choose first. Take the time I want before anybody else gets there, even Skyspook.
I don’t know that it will always be this way, but for now? I love being an underdater.
Not dating up to your full capacity can have benefits.