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Part 1: Exploring Polyamory

So romance with that free-spirited man didn’t last long. Of course, we each had our “stuff.” At 23 years old, I had many hidden skeletons in the closet of my unconscious. I also didn’t love the reality that he immediately felt open and attracted to other women. I wanted to understand, though. I wanted to feel free, adventurous, and charismatic, like him.

The connection did inspire me to move to San Francisco to pursue my California dream. Out here, I’ve discovered several polyamorous communities, smoothing out the lifestyle transition. Gradually, I became more “out” about my choices. I soon found the poly “Bible” books: “More Than Two” and “The Ethical Slut.”

Most poly advice I found seemed applicable to all romantic partnerships. I explored things like:

• Asking for what I wanted
• Setting healthy boundaries
• Walking away from asshole behaviors
• Expressing sexual desires
• Building self-worth on purpose

In early 2021, I published two articles on polyamory. I covered things like using effective communication, healing codependency, exploring unspoken expectations, discovering relationship desires, sharing difficult feelings, and honoring your individuality.

I explained how polyamory pushed me to do partnerships differently, like letting relationships grow naturally, owning my insecurities, and embracing vulnerability–it makes you more lovable, not less

Settling into my California dream, I began seeing a strong, nerdy man from acro yoga. He was lovely, already had another partner, and really cared about me. We practiced new tricks, and he helped me move to my new apartment. I didn’t even mind that he was seeing someone else because we talked about things and shared our honest feelings. How refreshing.

Through this new connection, I continued developing my relationship toolkit:

• Practicing open communication: Maybe, with empathy and collaboration, we could address conflict and tough decisions lovingly.
• Valuing shared time: If we both had the freedom to use our romantic energy in whatever formula felt best, I couldn’t take date nights for granted. We didn’t assume; we planned. When we hung out, I knew he wanted to be there and vice versa. No obligations. Lots of trust.
• Loving more gently: He didn’t own me, and I didn’t own him. We weren’t rushing to some “end goal” or “climbing an escalator” towards marriage, kids, or shared living. We just enjoyed sharing time. We helped each other grow, and I felt more relaxed, less forceful.

When we broke up, it felt gradual and mutual. We wanted different things. He was considering moving to Los Angeles. I leaned into my career, gearing up for corporate tech work. We cared a lot about each other, and the breakup felt much smoother than before.

How cool was that? A smooth breakup without swearing and yelling and collapsing from insecurities and devastation and embarrassment. Still sold on polyamory as a lifestyle.

With new tools and insights, I moved forward with my open-love California vibe. I met more poly communities and kept dating. I engaged in different relationship setups and dynamics that allowed me to sort through my relationship needs and values.

• Attachment styles: Oh my goodness, so impactful in all the previous romances I’d had. I realized how my anxious-insecure tendencies got me into anxious-avoidant “traps.” That means both partners reinforce negative self-beliefs in a way that’s so spot-on activating, that you’ll likely assume it’s chemistry. Attachment style awareness is essential.
• Non-hierarchical polyamory: I tried having a “primary partner” while exploring other connections. Looking back, hierarchy feels disempowering. Being a “secondary” partner rarely feels good. I now believe in honoring all connections equally, regardless of situational context. Everyone deserves a say in dynamics that impact them.

Looking back on my open love adventures, I see my inner romance unfolding. Maybe “Christian” or “traditional” monogamy so thoroughly freaked me out, that I needed way more openness to uncover my authentic self. It’s a journey that’s made me a better partner.

Polyamory forced me to face many insecurities. I healed inner damage and strengthened my voice in partnership dynamics (read: power imbalances are real, and it matters). Everyone deserves to feel empowered in intimate connections, and consent means a clear, enthusiastic, and ongoing “Yes.”

I also realized I’d felt interchangeable before. In some partnerships, I’d felt like just another pretty, smart, and funny woman. That unconscious belief caused so much insecurity.

Looking back, I see how those connections mirrored my inner world. I need a stronger relationship with my soul and intuition. I needed to believe that I deserved love. I had to completely embody my worthiness before I could manifest the external connections.

We are all sacred, magnificent, and irreplaceable. Staying connected to that sacredness is essential for deeper, healthier intimacy.

Part 2: Reimagining Romance

Every partnership and connection seemed to teach me so much. Maybe all that relationship movement led to my work burnout and full life breakdown (or “Dark Nights of the Soul”) sooner. In 2020, I took an open-ended sabbatical, dove into depth therapy and shadow work, and stopped dating for two whole years. I also low-key began worrying about the bizarre possibility of things “closing up.”

I emerged from that dating gap with more awareness, less innocence, and some very real hatred for the male population. I wrote at least 23 articles centered on feminism and patriarchal healing. In late 2021, I published, “As a Feminist Bi Woman, Dating a Woman Sounds Way Better.” I conclude the piece by asserting our freedom to not date men or anyone at all.

Healing male-centered traumas and unraveling patriarchal conditioning required time, focused effort, and more work with my amazing female therapist. When I began dating again, two loving partners helped me feel safe to continue healing those wounds. We did the inner work only possible in healthy, trusting, intimate connections.

Those two partners made up my last poly setup. They were a couple, and I dated them, mostly individually. We each got so close and shared so much of ourselves. They had each done healing work around patriarchal conditioning and femininity, which helped so much. We said “I love you” and meant it. I felt seen, valued, and loved. We cried together, and I finally got to explore my lesbian dreams.

When those partnerships gently ended (largely due to a long-distance situation), I walked away with two big insights:

1. I wanted heterosexual romance. I want to be the woman, the divine feminine, in a partnership. I want to feel held, protected, and uplifted. While everyone has both masculine and feminine energies, embracing my feminine experience feels most natural and relaxing to me.
2. I craved a container for more focused depth. With my newfound spiritual depth and expansive authenticity, dating two people in a way that felt natural to me required a lot of time and energy. I still needed space for other friendships, creative projects, my career, self-care, and life stuff. Maybe polyamory was too much for me, and maybe, I might prefer the “M-word” relationship approach.

As terrifying as it sounded, I began opening myself to the possibility of monogamy again…

Part 3: Choosing Monogamy

Through my inner work, I now view relationships as a spiritual process. Partners aren’t here to make us happier; that’s not a realistic goal, and you’ll keep feeling like a failure. Instead, intimate connections can move us to create more space for love, awareness, and depth. It’s like the “enlightened relationships” Eckhart Tolle talks about.

Feeling safe enough to process and heal with a partner requires an intentional container. Maybe it’s a mix of my spiritual beliefs or the Scorpio in my Venus (for astrology lovers). I’ve just realized that I crave more intensity than most, and focusing on one person started making more sense.

So, I explored my first return-to-monogamy partnership early last year. Though we dated briefly, I had a very intense experience. Our charts described this romance as a “karmic connection,” and that label resonated.

Many old monogamy narratives resurfaced, like ownership and control, jealousies and fears, and a disproportional emphasis on the “success” of the partnership. Maybe I was just so eager to feel chosen, that I moved too fast. He left our partnership suddenly, and I felt completely devastated.

I saged the shit out of my whole house while sobbing, started writing more songs with renewed vigor and a new ukulele, and generally felt super motivated to improve myself and my life situation.

He also had a Scorpio in Venus, and we’d shared so much vulnerability. When he turned out to be another emotionally abusive person, I felt so shaken. So shaken, that I landed right into the arms of another man, a life-changing, slow-burn romance I didn’t see coming…

Anas and I met through our shared love for yoga. We’d overlapped in the same classes at our local studio for months before ever interacting. My deep dive into high sensitivity motivated me to ask him about his neurodiversity.

Seven years older than me, I sort of mentally friend-zoned him. However, he did seem like the perfect candidate to interview for my articles. He’d been doing inner work for years, and I loved talking to him. I also sensed he was on the cusp of huge inner and outer transformations.

Something about having a genuine friendship with a man felt so refreshing. I felt safe, really safe with him. We began sharing more time, longer text messages, and regular walks to and from yoga classes. Then, I realized he liked me. At that time, my romantic capacity and alignment felt messy. I still wasn’t sure about monogamy and was sort of dating someone else.

Though I worried about being friends with a man, we had a beautiful conversation that convinced me to stay. He said a friendship with me was its own reward regardless of future outcomes, and I believed him.

Two months into our refreshingly uplifting friendship, I felt I needed to make a choice. I either needed to lean in or back off a bit. I didn’t want to hold a girlfriend spot unless I was ready to.

After a lot of prayer (and a spectacular astrology reading), I opened the door for something more. More specifically, I made out with him on my couch one day. Okay, we’d been “platonic cuddling” and then openly weighing the risks of dating. Our valuable friendship made the stakes feel so high. That’s when my feminine intuition kicked into gear. The rest is history.

I’d found an amazing human I respect and admire who loves me for who I am. He encourages my authenticity and celebrates me in such sweet ways. I felt chosen, wanted, desired, cared for, and seen.

We’re about to have our six-month anniversary, and our one-year “yoga-versary.” How incredible. Sometimes, I still catch myself wondering what I did right to deserve such a beautiful, deep, supportive partnership.

Maybe this uplifting romance means I honestly believe I’m worthy of love now. Maybe I’ve cleared out enough space for love to find me.

Maybe, because I love the spiritual process of romance so much, I’m letting myself close a door to create a room. We’re creating a safe and flexible container together, and it’s been a beautiful, challenging, terrifying, and rewarding journey.

The more I understand what healthy romance looks like, the more I see how much space I have to grow. That’s why celebrating these milestones feels so important. I’ve become a good partner and a healthy person. I’ve shaped my love life in a way that feels authentic and sustainable. Most importantly, I have a process for opening space to let love in.

How you design your romantic partnerships will always be a personal choice, and I don’t think there’s one right answer. What matters most is being intentional about how you design your relationships, rather than defaulting on cultural norms, which have proven to be wildly flawed.

Making intentional romance decisions means getting clear about your values, needs, desires, and expectations. Intimacy will probably always be scary on some level; it’s worth it.

How you choose to love gets to be a shifting question over your lifetime. That feels healthy.

Looking forward, I’m inspired and hopeful about the work I’m doing in my romantic partnership. I feel such gratitude for the adventures, mistakes, and heartbreaks that led me here. It’s worth it.

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