Polyamorous: Living and Loving More

235 Pages·2018·1.31 MB·English

by  Jenny Yuen

Copyright © Jenny Yuen, 2018
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Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Yuen, Jenny, author
Polyamorous : living and loving more / Jenny Yuen.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
Issued in print and electronic formats.
ISBN 978-1-4597-4040-2 (softcover).--ISBN 978-1-4597-4041-9 (PDF).--ISBN 978-1-4597-4042-6
(EPUB)
1. Non-monogamous relationships. I. Title.
HQ980.Y84 2018 306.84’23 C2018-904390-3
C2018-904391-1
1 2 3 4 5 22 21 20 19 18
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Contents
Preface: What an Affair Taught Me
1 The Welding
2 The Roots and Evolution of Polyamory: Canada and Beyond
3 Shannon, Denis, Elyssa, and Chris (Alberta)
4 Blair and Karen (Manitoba)
5 The Struggle Is Real: How People Arrive at Polyamory, Misconceptions, and
Relationship Challenges
6 “Love’s Refraction”: Jealousy and Compersion
7 Alicia Bunyan-Sampson (Ontario)
8 Visible and Invisible Minorities: Underrepresented Communities Within
Polyamory
9 Johnathon Hooper (Ontario)
10 Metamours and Hinges
11 Solo, Swing, BDSM, Anarchy … and Getting Off the Escalator
12 Erin (Saskatchewan)
13 The Right and the Fight to Love, Legally: How Canadian Laws Impact Poly
People
14 John David “Hobbes” Hickey (Quebec)
15 It Takes a Village: Polyamorous Families
16 Bryde MacLean and Jeremie Saunders: Turning Halifax On, One Podcast at a
Time (Nova Scotia)
17 Reporting on Love: How the Media Covers Polyamory
18 Cory and Kendra and Amber: Escaping the North (Yukon and Northwest
Territories)
19 Eve Rickert and Franklin Veaux (British Columbia)
20 Poly or Mono — You Do You
Acknowledgements
Glossary
Canadian Polyamory Resources
Sources
PREFACE
What an Affair Taught Me
This can’t last. This misery can’t last. I must remember that and try
to control myself. Nothing lasts really. Neither happiness nor
despair.
— Laura Jesson, Brief Encounter
DAVID LEAN’S 1945 FILM Brief Encounter tells the tale of Laura Jesson, a
married woman with kids whose complacent life becomes complicated after a
chance meeting with a stranger named Alec.
The film struck me deeply when I first watched it. That’s not just because it’s
a masterpiece — beautifully shot in contrasting black and white — but because
it also illustrates the brutal consequences of unintentionally falling in love.
Sitting on the couch, I was transported to three years before. I felt a stab of
guilt and a wave of empathy for Laura because I’d had my own brief encounter
that became an affair, lasting more than a year.
Sunday, March 31, 2013
I knew I was caught.
It was time to raise the white flag.
I still remember the stunned look on my then boyfriend’s face, even though
he knew what had been going on for quite a while.
“I have something to tell you,” I told him quietly. “I had an affair. It’s over
now, but it went on for about a year.”
His lips quivered. Then the name-calling, which I felt I deserved — “Fucking
whore. Fucking slut.”
A few days prior, I had broken it off with the other man — Mr. San Diego.
Even though we loved each other, I knew affairs were never meant to last. We
severed ties and he blocked me on Facebook. It hurt both of us. He showed me a
note he wrote to his friend that said, “Why does it hurt more that my girlfriend
dumped me than if my wife had?”
A year and half earlier, in July of 2011, a friend and I took a trip to San
Diego to attend Comic-Con. We had gone the cheap route, trying to save two
hundred dollars by taking several connecting flights. On the final flight of three
that day, from Denver to San Diego, there he was: slender, wearing a neat, crisp
shirt and well-fitting slacks. Handsome-nerdy, I’d say. My friend was feeling
nauseous from the ups and downs of the multiple flights, and I agreed to switch
my window seat for hers. Mr. San Diego, who was nearly forty, sat down beside
me; his wife and two young sons were sitting in the row ahead.
Feeling chatty, I struck up a conversation with him, mainly about our
destination (his home): things to do as a tourist and the geeky exploits of visiting
a pop-culture convention. We didn’t exchange information, but he managed to
find me with the details I had given him about my job.
He emailed me.
I didn’t think anything of it. I was happy in my relationship. We added each
other to Facebook. He came to Toronto in the spring of the following year and
asked if I wanted to meet for a friendly drink. Again, I thought nothing of it. We
spoke mainly about U.S. politics and I dropped him off at his hotel after.
But things changed in the summer. I was struggling with my relationship at
home. I felt trapped and thought a solo trip would help calm my nerves. So, I
went to San Diego again for Comic-Con, but this time I decided to turn it into an
extended week-long trip.
Usually, when I’m travelling alone, I feel exhilarated and free. This time, I
felt lonely. San Diego turned out to be quite a barren city that felt more like a
small town to me before the convention started.
The only night I went out on the town was when Mr. San Diego picked me up
and we went to a dive taco bar. By the end of the night, it felt like a date. And
there was this wild attraction, the spark of excitement that I needed and had not
felt in a really long time. He dropped me off at my hostel in his rare sports car —
to this day, when I see one, it brings me back to that time.
In the movie Unfaithful, Diane Lane plays a complacent wife entangled in an
affair with a hot Spanish dude after a chance meeting on the street. In a
flashback after the famous snow globe murder scene, Lane’s character rewinds
to the day she met him. Instead of allowing herself to know him, she hails a cab
and he remains a stranger.
Mr. San Diego and I were soon chatting on Facebook and the flirting
intensified, escalating to X-rated messages. I prayed he wouldn’t offer to drive
me to the airport. He didn’t.
Though I was thankful to have escaped California still relatively faithful (by