I dated a boy two summers ago who was as introverted as anybody I’d ever met. He required long hours in the dark with his video games daily, not speaking to anyone or being spoken to. He encouraged me to be comfortable just hanging out with him in silence, doing my thing while he did his. I could have managed this if I felt safe and stable in the relationship, but I didn’t. I chattered on and on as if to tug the rope of connection between us, to assure myself it was still there.
This boy was, inexplicably, dating two other people besides me. This boy who didn’t even always want to talk to one girlfriend somehow had three of them. I understand the introvert’s “eyes bigger than your stomach” dilemma – I’ve too often packed my social calendar only to later find that the sight of it makes me sick – so I can see, theoretically, how he got himself into this situation. But I still don’t think it was a nice thing to do, knowingly spreading himself so thin across three people he must have known wanted more of him.
I told him once, in a moment of insecurity, “I’m worried that you’re going to decide you’re too socially overwhelmed and you need to break up with one of us, and I’m worried it’s going to be me.” He looked affronted – of course he’d never do that! – but then he did, unceremoniously, a few months later. I knew my own kind when I saw him, and I knew his juggling act couldn’t last.
I’ve pondered this often in the intervening years, as I attempt to build my own ideal non-monogamy landscape. There was one brief interlude where I was fucking three people on a rotating basis, but that equilibrium ended in a flash with all three relationships dramatically blowing up over the course of one week. I’ve subsequently only gone as far as to have one romantic relationship and one friend with benefits concurrently, max, and honestly? I think that might be my ideal poly situation.