How I Became Polyamorous (the first time)

Why would anyone let someone else touch their partner?

Why would someone want to go through jealousy?

Whenever I hear someone’s story of how they became non-monogamous, I usually feel like we’re just vastly different people. I treat it almost like when I encounter someone with particularly confusing fetish.

*Yeah okay, cool. You do you. But that’s definitely not for me. That just sounds… wrong. Not morally, but… for the emotions.*

(Everything between ** are my thoughts. Everything between “” are spoken)

But today, I’m here to write my story of how I became polyamorous, despite believing that I was for sure, 100% no doubt, definitely, absolutely a monogamist.

I’m going to tell you everything. From all the terrible, judgemental, unhealthy thoughts that I had, to the crazy outbursts I created when I initiated my alpha level bitch mode because my partner was simply thinking about going out with someone. This is not going to be a brief 2 page rundown. No, my friends, I’m going to tell you everything I remember. Because I believe it’s the all the little details that makes people realize that, in some ways, I’m just like you.

And who knows? I may just make someone think “Huh, this bitch crazy… maybe”. Then show this blog post to their partner. And they go “Huh, this bitch crazy… maybe”. And now the seed’s been planted.

They both don’t talk about it for the next few weeks. But every time they go out, they notice other people and wonder how they’d feel about their partner being with them. They feel revolted, like a burning ball of primal fury was forming in their stomach. But they also notice people that they’re attracted to, and realise that it would be kinda sorta fun to know what it’s like to be with them as well. I mean, that wouldn’t at all change the way they feel about their partner, right? Right?!

2 months later they’re in bed watching Rick and Morty on Netflix. Rick makes Morty reflect on his mortality once again. Usually, they’re not affected by this. But this time, it made them internalise their own mortality and how the pursuit of enjoyment is what really matters to them. And what is life but to embark upon new endeavours.

“So, uh, I know this might seem out of the blue and all, and I get it if you’re not comfortable about it at all and I won’t bring it up eve-

“Are you thinking of trying it as well? The… poly thing?”

Both their eyes light up. It’s been too long since they both knew what were on each other’s mind. Suddenly, they feel… connected again.

“But where do we start? How do we go about doing this?”

And that’s why this blog exists.

Tinder lit a spark in dark abyss that was my dating life. My husband was the 3rd man I went out with. The first two were terrible. I’ll talk about all the terrible dates I’ve been on, what I’ve learnt from them, and how to spot a potential terrible date beforehand, in another article.

We met at 11am for what was supposed to be a lunch date. But that turned into a 14 hour escapade that included walking around the city barefoot, making out in a garden maze, giving each other nicknames that still stick 3 years later, and staring into each other’s eyes for 5 minutes straight, before rushing to catch the last train. If you’re lactose intolerant, I’m sorry for all that cheese you had to deal with. I’ll reimburse the toilet paper that I made you use.

The next day, while I was still high on endorphins, he asked me if I wanted to go halfsies on a place to stay with him. At first, my innocent mind thought that we were just going to have a fun hangout. Maybe watching some youtube, getting some drinks, watch a movie or two. But then it hit me…

There’s going to be sex involved.

That’s right, my friends. Peen in the vagene.

And why this was a big deal, was because, my friends, I was an 18 year old virgin. A virgin who was waiting patiently for a guy that just… felt right in the feels. (Who will hopefully feel right in other places… heheheh okay guys I’ll stop. But not really.)

It was a no brainer. This guy who I’d only known for 24 hours was damn near perfect. I didn’t know what I’d let him do, but I knew I’d let him do it. And so, after much contemplation, I said yes.

At the end of everything, we were both buttass naked, and I was sitting on his lap, in a completely non sexual way. He looked into my eyes and told me he loves me. And I sat there, thought real hard to make sure it’s not the endorphins, and told him that I love him too. It was perfect. Everything was perfect.

Until he said…

“But there’s something I need to tell you… I don’t believe in monogamy”

*What? What is that even supposed to mean? *

That sentence literally made no sense to me.

“What do you mean?”

“I believe in the philosophy of polyamory. It’s the belief that we can love more than one person at once. I love you, Asha. But, for example, I just met another girl 2 days ago and I think I love her too”

My heart dropped. Is this guy fucking serious? I was so confused, but my instincts told me that he’s not an asshole. He’s just not tactful.

“So… how would it work?”

“Simple. We can spend as much time as we want together. But we have the freedom to see other people. The rules are to be completely open and 100% honest”

I didn’t like it. I felt all these gushy feelings about him, but also felt a rage comparable to a year’s worth of PMS combined.

Here I was, naked and vulnerable, and I had to make a choice. Do I just leave this fucker and never look back? Or should I give this weirdness a chance?

I chose the latter. Why?

It wasn’t because I was some open-minded person who wanted to try something new… I just didn’t want to lose him.

So… What happened?

We were monogamous for a couple weeks and agreed to slowly ease into it. Did I feel comfortable? No, not at all. What did I think about the idea of the first person I’ve ever fell in love with, falling in love with someone else? That it was goddamn wrong, disgusting, and just UNFAIR that it had to be ME who fell in love with HIM. (I’m not angry now. I’m trying to convey how I felt then)

Oh, and to make things worse, he wasn’t in the same country as me.

4 days after meeting me, he had to leave to Bali for a month. We had to long distance this bitch. We skyped for hours every night about everything under the sun. I’d get butterflies every time I heard his voice. I’d feel like I’m high on drugs from the mere sight of him. But during the day, I was constantly wondering if he was with some other girl, and if that night, he’d break the news to me that he’d met someone else and was going to live with her for the entire month. (We did have the rule to tell each other about dates beforehand. But that sometimes things can happen spontaneously.) Oh, and on top of that, I always felt like he may be giving equal or more time to that girl he said he may be in love with (Lets call her THATFUCKINBITCH. I’m sorry. Let’s just call her Steph). Who the fuck was she anyway? I gave him something special! Doesn’t that mean I get priority?! (I know. I know. So childish. But you can get where I came from, right?!)

So, to ease my constant, crippling anxiety, I started Tindering. I didn’t want to meet anyone new. But hey, if I did, maybe it’ll make him jealous and realise that this whole thing is stupid and that he should be mine and I should be his. (I realise this is an unhealthy line of thinking. But hey, I’m human. And I bet some of you know EXACTLY what this feels like)

I match with a couple people, but 1 caught my attention. I told my partner (Let’s called him V) that I’m heading out for a date. We go out. We talk about stuff that I can’t remember now. Then made out a bit. And I headed home after spending the night cuddling. It just didn’t feel right. I didn’t want to do this. Besides, I wasn’t attracted to him enough to want him to be the 2nd person I’d ever have sex with. I was just desperate to get V jealous.

I told V about the date that night and he didn’t flinch the slightest. He didn’t seem to have any jealousy whatsoever. In fact, he asked me,

“Why didn’t you have sex with him?”


*Is the motherfucker for real? BE JEALOUS! What is wrong with you? Do you not love me like I love you? What the hell is going on?!*

“I just didn’t feel like it”

I was too scared to share all my thoughts with him. I was worried that he would run away at the mere possibility of me being hard to handle.

Remember that this is my first relationship as well. I had no idea what an amazing, respectable partner was. So I just went by my own definition — be perfect to him, never upset him, and always please him (Which, by the way, is a great way to lose your individuality and self respect while locking yourself up in a seemingly inescapable dungeon of pent up anger and pain. Totes would not recommend)

And so I kept swiping. At this point, I was half convinced that V was never going to get jealous. So I just needed to meet someone to get him off my mind. Maybe I’d fall in love with someone else, and I wouldn’t have to be with V anymore. Because it’s not like it’s possible to be in love with 2 people, right?

I swipe, and keep swiping. Man, are most people boring. Who DOESN’T love travel? I don’t care about your height. Yes, you’re here to meet people. That’s the whole point of tinder. 500 characters and you decide to use none of it? You want to find interesting and intelligent people but nothing in your bio tells me that you’re either one of those. Ugh, kill me now.

I get a few matches. But they all lead to nothing. Up until one of my matches started off by talking about the polyamory I’d mentioned in my bio. This is unusual because, so far, everyone was avoiding the topic altogether.

*Huh. This guy seems interesting. Let me look through his profile again*

A unique bio, a gorgeous face, and balls big enough to talk about a topic that most people shy away from. Momma’s interested.

We end up texting non-stop for a week — mostly philosophy and polyamory. I tell V about him (Let’s call him Tea. Deal with it) But, once again, he showed zero signs of feeling anything but happiness for me. Fucking dick. Was he even human?! Did he not feel like I was his? Because I was. And it felt like he didn’t… care.

And then it happened. The thing that I’ve been deadly worried of. During on of our nightly skype calls, he tells me:

“Asha, I forgot to mention something to you. It happened last week. It was so tiny that it completely slipped my mind to tell you instantly. I didn’t think it would be a big deal”

“Oh. Haha *SONOFABITCH* What happened?”

“You know I go to contact dance, right? It’s where a group of people just let our bodies flow and dance without restriction. It’s not sexual. But last week, I happened to kiss another girl. It wasn’t romantic or anything. I don’t even know her.”


“Are you guys going out?”

“No. I don’t know her. I don’t have her contact. I’m not interested in seeing her again. It was just a thing that happened. Contact dance is all about release and the lack of boundaries. You’ve got nothing to worry about” (Remember, V was young and made mistakes, too)

“Okay. Anyway, I’m going out with someone next week. Remember Tea? Yeah, him”

Honestly, I didn’t plan to go out with Tea to get back at V. I was putting Tea off because I really liked him, and I didn’t want to make things hard for V. But when I realized that V wasn’t trying to take it easy on me at all, I realised I wanted to do the same.

The day of the date with Tea.

I was waiting for Tea at the train station, terribly nervous simply because I REALLY liked this guy.

*Fuck. Am I going to have sex with him? Should I? Isn’t it supposed to be special and just for V? But what if I really like him? Isn’t it rude to turn him down anyway? Oh my god help me. Okay. I won’t have sex with him* (As you can see, I was so new to dating that I didn’t know that it’s completely fine to decline sex on the first date. What a trainwreck)

And then I saw Tea walking up to me.

*Fuck. This is going to be hard*

We hug and proceed to walk to the bar. What a beautiful bastard. He was very different from V — from the way he talked to how he looked. V and I definitely had better chemistry, but hotdamn, Tea and I had a strong connection.

We grab bar seats and got our drinks. Music was booming at the back so we leaned closed to each other. And at some point, he laid his hand on mine. He asks me if we should move location as it’s getting too loud. I agree. Guess where we chose on? Yeah, his place. (Go head. Roll your eyes with me)

He grabs a cab and we head back to his room. It’s quite gorgeous. He was on a very high floor, and had a small balcony in his room which we climbed and sat on, overlooking the city while eating leftover salad from his fridge and Dreyer’s ice cream.

Once again, we dived into philosophies and how we view and deal with certain things in our life.

*Jesus christ I can’t stop looking into his eyes. Keep it together Asha*

Then he lets me know he was a masseuse in New Zealand for a few months, and wanted to practice on me. So he told me to turn around as he knead his fingers through my shoulders and back.

*This must be a fucking joke. Can he read my mind? Does he know how hard I’m trying NOT to have sex with him?!(Imagine a hose at full blast. Now imagine using your thumb to cover the opening. That was what my vagina felt like)*

It felt wonderful. And after, I told him I wanted to try massaging him. Mistake. My fingers were on his body and it wasn’t long before we ended up kissing. Hands were all over bodies, and he asked if we should move over to the bed. I said…

“Uh… Actually. I’m not sure if I’m ready just yet”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s… Nothing’s wrong. I mean. I just… *BITCHTHINKQUICK* have this… rule?”

“What’s the rule?”

“I don’t have sex on the first date”

*Girl. Get outta here. That’s dumb. If you like him, why not? Why you straight up lying right now*

He got visibly sad. And I didn’t feel like he only wanted this for sex. He was just upset because everything just felt right, and it didn’t feel good to place restrictions to what clearly felt natural. I felt weird, and awkward, so I just spit out…

“But, if we’re still awake past 3:30AM, we can do it”

Why did I set this stupid fucking rule? I don’t know. I panicked. And clearly, this girl doesn’t handle stress gracefully. We talked a bit more. Got very touchy. And then fell asleep on the bed.

Guess what? It’s 3:45AM and he wakes me up. I’m sleepy, groggy, and have zero willpower in me to keep myself from this guys who I really enjoyed being around.

We have sex.

It was all still weird to me. It was my first time having sex with a condom on. It was also my first time having sex without it being slow (since V had to take it very easy on me). I liked it.

I left the next morning, after we had breakfast together. As I rode the train back home, all I could think was how I was a piece of shit who lacked self-control, how I felt like I was betraying V, and how I was going to break the news to him.

I texted him. “So… things got kind of intimate last night. I had a good time. Let’s talk about it on call”. Sex was still a new thing for me. So outright saying that I had sex felt… awkward. I thought that that message conveyed everything adequately.

That night. V and I had our nightly call session.

“So tell me more about it! I’m glad to know you had fun. Give me details”

*fucking bastard without any human emotions. Ugh. at least he’s making this easy for me*

“Well, I really enjoyed it. We talked a lot. And the sex was… it was good”

“Wait. What? Sex?”


“You didn’t tell me you had sex.”

“Uh, yeah I did. I said things got intimate”

“I just thought that maybe you guys got very touchy or even oral. Telling me that things got intimate doesn’t let me know that you guys had sex.”

“Oh. Oh. I’m so sorry. I just felt awkward saying it out loud since it’s my first time doing this. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. Just… Be more specific the next time. So, what did you guys talk about?”

At this point I was just over it. Okay. V does not experience jealousy and I do. He might ACTUALLY be “poly”. (I believed that poly people don’t experience jealousy. my GOD was I wrong)

A few days later, V arrives in Singapore after a month apart. Oh did I miss that magnificent hairy bastard. We immediately start living with each other. Couchsurfing and staying at cheap hostels (We were broke as hell). We spent pretty much all our time together. Which was weird. Since we were supposed to be dating others as well.

During this period, I was constantly self conscious and insecure. V would always check out every single girl in the room, even if I was having a heart to heart conversation in the room. I was constantly jealous and wondering if he was texting Tea was always hitting me up, but I just… was addicting to being around V. He was teaching me a whole lot about life… and myself. And I don’t even think he was trying to half the time.

This went on for about 1.5 months. Where we’d say we’re polyamorous, but spend all our time together.

But I couldn’t take it anymore.

So one night, I brought V up to the rooftop of our hostel and I told him everything. I didn’t like the constant discomfort I felt being in a poly relationship. I didn’t like how he can’t keep his eyes on me when we’re talking because he was checking out every other girl in the room. I didn’t like much I was triggered when I thought he could be simply THINKING about Steph. I didn’t like how it just didn’t make sense to say we’re polyamorous when it was so clear that all we wanted was to spend time with each other.

I told him that I wanted to be monogamous again. To just be with him. And maybe we can try being polyamorous in the future again. I just knew that I couldn’t do it anymore.

V looked uncomfortable. He kept quiet and thought for a while. It was nerve-wracking.

*You done fucked up Asha*

Then he looked at me and said that it made him uncomfortable because he grew up believing that polyamory was a smart and superior type of relationship. (Spoiler alert: To this day, I don’t think poly is superior than mono or the other way around)

…But he also acknowledges that we are kinda sorta spending every single second together. And that maybe he’s just stubborn headed and worried about chaining himself up in a monogamous relationship. Also that it’s also totally uncool to constantly feel like he needed to stare at other women just because he was polyamorous, and that he was a clueless poly partner like me since I’m his first poly partner.

So we made a deal. A deal to become monogamous, but be open to the idea of polyamory when we both felt like seeing other people.

And so we became monogamous again. That’s the end of part 1 of how I became polyamorous… the first time.

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