Okay, why people fear nontraditional relationship styles is literally sitting in my chest like a burrito I shouldn’t have eaten at 2 a.m. I’m on my sagging IKEA couch in Portland right now, rain doing that Pacific Northwest whisper against the window, half a cold oat-milk latte sweating on the coffee table, and I still get twitchy just typing this.
The First Time I Actually Said “I’m Poly” Out Loud and Wanted to Die
So picture this: Thanksgiving 2023, my aunt’s house smells like sage and passive-aggression, and I—fueled by two mimosas and the delusion that family actually wants honesty—blurt out that my partner and I are ethically non-monogamous. The room went quieter than my bank account in January. My cousin literally dropped her phone in the green-bean casserole. That silence? That’s why people fear nontraditional relationship styles. It’s the sound of every Hallmark movie they’ve ever believed in cracking.
It Feels Like Cheating Even When It’s Literally Not
Here’s the dumbest part—I still flinch sometimes. Like, I’ll be on a date with someone new, laughing at their stupid memes, and this Catholic-school guilt gremlin in my brain hisses, “You’re a bad person.” Even though everyone consented, even though my partner literally packed me a snack for the date like a kindergartener. That internalized monogamy script is sticky, y’all. Sticky like spilled boba on a summer sidewalk.
Society Keeps Handing Us One Mold and Calling It Love
We’re raised on Disney, rom-coms, tax breaks for married couples, all of it screaming there’s One Right Way. So when someone says “Hey, I love two people and they’re cool with it,” brains short-circuit. It’s not even about the sex half the time—it’s the threat to the whole fairy tale. Like, if nontraditional relationship styles work for some people, then maybe the soulmate-industrial complex has been lying to us? Terrifying.
The Jealousy Monster Is Real (And Kinda Funny in Retrospect)
I once cried in a Target parking lot because my partner used the eggplant emoji replying to someone else. Full meltdown, mascara rivers, the works. Ten minutes later I was laughing at myself eating gas-station taquitos because—objectively—hilarious. Jealousy doesn’t mean non-monogamy is wrong; it means I still have Wi-Fi connection to 1950s programming. That’s part of why people fear nontraditional relationship styles: we’re scared of our own feelings showing up uninvited.
What Actually Helped Me Stop Panicking 24/7
- Scheduling “feelings check-ins” like they’re dentist appointments (sounds robotic, saves relationships)
- Reading literally everything by The Ethical Slut and Polysecure until the books fell apart
- Therapy, duh—mine is a queer woman in her 60s who says “fuck” more than I do
- Telling my partners when I’m spiraling instead of pretending I’m chill (revolutionary concept)
Yeah, Sometimes It Still Sucks
Last month I got ghosted by a metamour (that’s poly lingo for your partner’s partner—wild, right?) and it hurt way more than I expected. Nontraditional relationship styles don’t make you immune to rejection; they just give you more creative flavors of it. But also? The highs are stupidly high. Like having two people send you memes when you’re sad level high.
Look, I’m not here to convert anyone. I still side-eye throuples on TikTok sometimes like “who has the emotional bandwidth??” But that’s why people fear nontraditional relationship styles—because they force us to question everything we were taught about love, worth, and possession. And questioning is scary.
If you’re sitting there with your own oat-milk latte going cold, wondering if there’s another way—start small. Read something. Talk to someone who’s doing it. Or don’t. Monogamy’s cool too. Just maybe stop clutching the one blueprint like it’s the only one that won’t break you.
Anyway, rain’s picking up and my cat is judging me for typing this instead of feeding him. Drop your own messy stories below—seriously, I read every comment while stress-eating cereal at 1 a.m.
