Friendship Never Ends

The Spice Girls had it right.

I actually grokked this over a year ago now - after the breakup of a serious, three-year romantic relationship, while in the midst of an angsty, confusing rebound entanglement. I never got a chance to write it down, and once I settled into the relationship I'm in now - which is more Serious and potentially Long-Term than any I've ever been in - it started to fade from my conscious thoughts. But talking to a friend about her breakup brought these ideas back to mind, and I decided to finally write down my official philosophy toward relationships.

And I don't mean just romantic relationships. Partly thanks to seeing things from a poly perspective, and partly because the feeling of romantic love and platonic love are almost impossible for me to differentiate, I don't like to put romantic relationships on a pedestal above other kinds of relationships. I just have relationships.

Some of them are clearly romantic, like with my girlfriend. Some of them are clearly familial, like with my blood relatives. Some of them have a tad of professional distance, like with coworkers and people I volunteer with. And then some of them, especially my closest friendships, are unnameable. I love my closest friends with an intensity of feeling that is indistinguishable from the way I love and have loved romantic partners, present and past. Actually, some of my closest friends were at one time romantic partners. And that's kind of what this post is about.

In February 2014, when my relationship with a kind, caring, very amusing and very metal guy ended for various complex reasons, I felt pretty despondent about romantic relationships lasting. In truth, I'd felt that way ever since my first serious romantic relationship ended. As a romantic-minded teenager, I'd been convinced that that first relationship would last forever. It limped on into my senior year of college before finally going down in a dramatic blaze of glory. I went into my next serious relationship very pessimistic about the prospect of relationships lasting. That person wanted to marry me, and I remember talking to one of my roommates about how naive I thought he was. "I'll marry him," I said, "but it's not gonna last." That relationship went sour in ways I won't get into here, but I wasn't free of it till three years later (and without ever getting married, although we were engaged for a while). A year after that I got together with Metal Guy, and still I couldn't shake the persistent feeling that while I wanted the relationship to last, it couldn't possibly do so. Part of that was a suppressed awareness of the very issues that finally led us to break up three years later, but part of it was also that same pessimism, that same unhealed grief from my first serious breakup.

I'm still struggling with that feeling. At this point, I have much less cause to doubt that my girlfriend and I have a future together than with any of my previous romantic relationships, and yet I still am unable to trust that yes, this is it, we will be together for the rest of our lives. "For the foreseeable future" is all I can promise, to myself or to her.

That'd be all well and good if that was all that I (or she) wanted, but I've come to learn that I do want a love that will last a lifetime.

But can it last? Well, it depends on what we're talking about. Love itself, that can definitely last a lifetime (I'll say more about that in a moment). Romantic relationships though...they're a bit more tricky. They take not just love, but also commitment, willingness to communicate and problem-solve, and similar ideas on how to live life. Sometimes, one or more of those things fall through. My past romantic relationships have been brought down through lacks in one or more of those areas (and only once, by the disappearance of love). I can hope that at nearly 30 years old, I've learned enough about all those things to be able to say, yes, I can do it right this time. The relationship I'm in now seems to be on much better footing regarding all these things than any of my past relationships. And yet, you never know. Can I really rule out that something won't come up later on that's a dealbreaker? Something that even our practice of open and honest communication and complete support for each other's lives and goals can't handle?

I guess I can't, but I can promise that I'll do everything in my power to work through anything that does come up.

And if something does come up that spells the end, well, it will hurt like hell, but it won't be the end of everything.

Because even if relationships don't last a lifetime, love often does. And with it, so does friendship.

My first serious relationship ended, but I am still in (occasional) touch with my best friend from high school, and still think of her as one of my best friends ever. My absolute best friend ever is someone I only ever knew online, who disappeared from the web a couple years ago, yet my deep feeling of friendship with her continues as well, and I'm sure if we met again, we'd immediately pick up right where we left off. In recent years, one of my closest friends was first a coworker, then a good friend (but I was afraid to call her my best friend because I had a more than friendly interest in her), then a romantic partner, and then after that ended, again a close friend, which she still is today. In the interim, I fell madly in love with another friend, and we dated for a while but then broke up, and even though my heart was broken (because, of course, I hoped things would last forever) we stayed friends and are still good friends to this day, too. And I have other friends, too, with whom I've never been romantically involved, but whom I love so much that it doesn't feel any different from romantic love. (And since I like snuggling with friends, it's not even as though the physical component is wholly missing.)

I will likely be friends with these people for the rest of my life. Even the ones I've lost touch with are still in my thoughts occasionally, and I still harbor feelings of affection toward them. My friendships will last forever, and I love all my friends in one way or another - with nostalgic fondness, friendly affection, deep ardor, or some combination or fluctuation of the above.

And because I find it so hard to separate romantic and friendly affections - not to mention the fact that my history with several friends in fact includes romance and intimacy - I don't think it's a stretch to say that for me, relationships don't so much end as change form sometimes. People move away. Relationships change from romantic to friends-with-benefits to just platonic (not always in that order). I lose touch with people. And sometimes, sadly, people disappear from my life.

That last one is pretty rare though. Most of the non-familial relationships I've cultivated over the years have endured, in one way or another, and even those who are gone are remembered. Friendship endures. Besides, friendship is ultimately the basis of every chosen relationship, even, or especially, the romantic ones. If any aspect of relationships deserves to be put on a pedestal, then, it's friendship. It's the root, the heart, and the eternal essence of all our chosen relationships.

What's Right Ain't Always Easy

I've been poly for, gosh, over two years now. It's hard to believe it's been that long.

Especially considering that I still feel like a poly n00b. Because in fact, poly can still be really hard for me at times.

I got into poly because I liked a girl, and didn't want to break up with my boyfriend for her, and it just so happened we all liked each other and formed a triad for a while. But I stayed poly because I believe in the tenets of openness and honesty - to myself as much as to my partner(s) - and freedom - for my own feelings as much as for my, and my partners', actions.

And that's why, when given the chance to back down from a boundary that turned out to make me a little uncomfortable in practice, I chose to hold my ground and fight the good fight against my own insecurity and jealousy. Because I didn't get into this just to slowly slide back into monogamy because that's what's comfortable and my girlfriend would be fine with it. I got into this so that I and the people I love can express their love and affection freely, so that I don't have to censor myself, and so that I don't control the bodies of other people in my life.

The thing is, change, even good change, is uncomfortable. I've experienced this in a variety of contexts recently. Even though I prefer a male name and pronouns now, introducing myself with them was a little awkward at first. Confronting my privilege on various fronts is uncomfortable. So why would living as poly when I've grown up in a largely monogamous society be any different?

It's worth facing the discomfort, though. I wouldn't feel right with myself if I didn't support my girlfriend's freedom to do what she chooses with her body. The boundary that we have concerns what can be done spontaneously and what needs to be discussed first, and I think it's a reasonable boundary. It's something that allows us to express ourselves, our feelings, freely to a certain extent, without having to delay to discuss it first.

The spontaneity part, however, led me to feel that something was sprung on me without being discussed first (earth to Tal: that was the whole point of the agreement!) which made me feel uncomfortable. Why didn't she tell me ahead of time? After a long phone call and equally long series of text messages, I realized that was the point. She didn't have to tell me ahead of time. That was what I had wanted - for us, both of us, to be able to do things to a certain point without needing to stop and talk about it.

Now, what actually happened - she wanted me to clarify so there are no misconceptions, since people we know IRL read this blog - is that while she was out of town, she slept next to someone and let them spoon with her. This is no big deal. I definitely have no problem with spooning, since there are about half a dozen friends that I would happily spoon or cuddle with, without it even being sexual. Physical contact is a nice thing. And I want my girlfriend to have nice things.

What got me is that while telling me about what happened, she said she told the other person, "I already cleared it with my boyfriend." Wait, what? When? That's when the anxiety kicked into overdrive. It took an hour of talking and texting for the emotional part of my brain to calm down and let the rational part remind me, We talked about it months ago. She cleared it then. I had just never processed it that way. I had been so focused on not going past the boundary, reminding myself, "Don't kiss anyone without talking to the girlfriend first!" (and, I even messed that up once >.<) that I didn't even think about what I could do. Or what she could do.

So I was caught off guard. I got confused, and anxious, and jealous. It took a bit to calm down the green-eyed monster and remember that, No, this was what I wanted, for both of us. I want this freedom for her.

During our long talk, my girlfriend expressed that since I was uncomfortable, and since she has pretty much no interest in other people, we can take a step back - she can avoid things like spooning with other people without talking about it first. It was very tempting to give in to fear and jealousy, and say yes to that. But that, I realized, would be tantamount to a slide back into monogamy, or even worse, a one-sided relationship where I can be poly because she doesn't get jealous, but she can't because I do. How is that fair? I don't want to give up on being poly, and that means I can't deny my girlfriend the same freedom. In fact, I want her to have it, to be able to express her affection and fulfill her physical needs as she sees fit. Those things make people happy, and I want her to be happy. Of course, it's preferable to do it with open discussion and awareness of each other's feelings. But to say that that we have to discuss before anything physical happens with anyone else seems unreasonably restrictive - being allowed to be mildly physical with other people without needing to talk about it first is reasonable, I believe.

Even though surprises unnerve me, and when I'm unnerved, the chain reaction to jealousy can get set off.

So what that means is that I have my work cut out for me. Because no way am I going to let this relationship be ruled by anxiety, insecurity and jealousy. I am better than that. I want something better than that for both of us. In a way, the incident was a wake-up call, that I had gotten complacent in the battle against the ingrained paths of fear, jealousy and control that monogamous culture has created in me. Because of those thought patterns, it's really not easy being poly - at least not for me. But it's something I believe in, and so I won't succumb to jealousy. It snuck up on me this time, but now I'm on my guard, so hopefully, the next time something spontaneous happens, I won't be surprised.

Loving Without Suffering (Part 1?)

Love is painful. We seem to accept this, that no matter whether it's longing for a love interest who may or may not be available, or grieving the loss of someone who no longer wants to be involved in the way they were before, or worrying about the future of a relationship that's weathering problems. Love involves longing for something we may not be able to have, something that might seem elusive and uncertain. In poly relationships, love can seem to bring extra suffering in the form of jealousy, which often stems from the fear of losing a loved one to someone else.

But this kind of suffering doesn't really come from love. Love is a giving, accepting, nurturing feeling. Love doesn't confine or grasp. What's actually causing the suffering is attachment - the human desire to cling to what we have, our craving for permanence and stability.

The thing is though, that nothing lasts forever. Flowers bloom and turn into fruit, which then rots. Leaves grow, dry up, fall and grow again. On the cosmic scale, our sun will collapse on itself in trillions of years, and even the universe will eventually die. On the microscopic scale, our cells are constantly growing and dying. And our thoughts and feelings shift from moment to moment; we aren't even the same person we were a moment ago. This may seem like a "big picture" view, but why not look at the big picture? If you think about it, everything is constantly changing. So getting attached to things (people, relationships) necessarily causes suffering, since things will inevitably change.

This isn't to say we shouldn't care about other people, or take pleasure in the joy they bring us. (I think I'll need to write another post on this topic.) But clinging to people and the feelings they give us can cause suffering, since people change and situations change. It's necessary to have a balance, to love without clinging.

I'm going through a breakup of a serious relationship right now, which is what led me to reflect on this topic. Even though part of me thinks the breakup is for the best, another part of me still misses the past and wishes it could have continued. It's natural to grieve. I'm not denying that. But at the same time, I want to move on, to continue my life and embrace the things the future will bring.

To do that, I've been reminding myself that change is natural, in order to reduce my clinging to the past and my suffering because things can't stay the same. I'm a fan of mantras; I use them to redirect my thoughts and emotions in all kinds of situations. Some of the mantras I've used to deal with the gigantic changes in my life are:

• Nothing stays the same.
• Everything changes.
• Nothing lasts forever.
• Change is the only constant.
• No moment is like any other.
• Every moment is brand new.
• Anything can happen.
• Change is awesome.
• Life is exciting.
• Life is amazing!

I usually string four or six of them together to move myself from longing for what's gone, to looking forward to the future: "Nothing lasts forever. Everything changes. Every moment is brand new. Life is amazing!"

One day last week, I was walking up to the office building where I work, and happened to be thinking how uncertainty made the whole world seem fresh - and suddenly I saw the blue sky outlined by the arches of the building's facade as though for the first time. Life is so amazing when you live every moment as though the world were brand new.

I should say, though, that although this thinking can reduce suffering, I don't think it will eliminate suffering altogether. It's human nature to become attached, to crave security and wish that good things could last forever. Realizing this and realizing that actually, the world is fluid and we can't actually keep anything should help reduce suffering - but the suffering will still initially happen, because we're human.

Also, this sort of thinking isn't just for dealing with breakups. One of the goals of the polyamory movement is to get away from possessiveness in relationships. Your partner doesn't belong to you. They're their own person, who can do whatever they want, really. I believe that reducing attachment to a person or relationship - reducing the need to keep and hold onto them - could also reduce the sense of possessiveness in a relationship, and lead to greater freedom and openness to what the future may bring.

My guide in this endeavor has been the Canadian Buddhist nun Pema Chödrön; her book The Places That Scare You has been a great source of wisdom. That was where I got the idea that rather than seeing the constant change of the world as something frightening and threatening, to be denied and avoided, we should see it as exciting - every moment is new, a moment that has never been before and never will be again. Many of the insights here come from Pema Chödrön or her teachers, I've just applied them to dealing with changes in relationships.

So how do you love someone without obsessing about "keeping" them? Well, I need to think about that some more, so expect a "part 2" later on addressing this question :)