Imagine telling someone: I love you and I want to build something with you—but only while I figure out what I’m actually looking for. Once I find it, I’ll see where I fit you into my life and decide what kind of relationship works for me with you, okay?

Would you agree to be in that relationship, knowing that what happens and how it unfolds won’t depend on you, but on a third person who doesn’t even know you?

I would seriously hesitate. And I’m sure for many people that sounds selfish and cruel.

And yet, we do it all the time without realizing it.

We do it when we have friendships, connections, and relationships that lose their place in our lives the moment a new romantic relationship begins. Suddenly, the hangouts, the messages, the conversations, the affection disappear—because that person finally arrived.

Thanks for keeping me company in the meantime. See you when this relationship ends and I need somewhere to land.

You were always my “in the meantime”

Social messages around this are incredibly obvious (and contradictory), especially in romcoms and series like Sex and the City (yes, I am forty years old but the current shows are still doing it!). These shows talk about the importance of friendship above all else… until you find “the one.”

Once that happens, your friends are expected to understand that you’ll give them less attention, that they’ll lose access to parts of your life, and that the relationship will change—not because they changed, not because you changed, but because a new relationship now takes priority over everything.

And if they don’t accept that this is “how it should be,” then they’re the selfish, unempathetic ones. How dare they get upset that you made unilateral decisions about a relationship you built together?

The message is clear:
We need a hierarchy of “who we love more,” because love is scarce and must be protected.

And it’s not just reinforced—it’s demanded.

As kids, we’re asked, Which of your friends do you like the most? establishing that we must choose someone to hold the coveted title of “best friend.” We’re expected to compete for that spot.

You don’t have to imagine how exhausting it is to live under constant pressure to be “the best” for someone. You are probably living it already.

And if you don’t have a best friend? Then you’re distant, disconnected, or incapable of forming real relationships—according to these social messages.

As adults, it’s expected that your partner replaces your friends in everything. If you get a plus-one and don’t bring your partner, people ask, Why didn’t you bring them? Did you break up?

Emotional corpses or temporary entertainment

One of the most common criticisms I hear about polyamory is that it’s used to justify promiscuity and treating people as disposable—just a way to satisfy selfish desires.

And of course that happens! Because it’s something we’ve been practicing since monogamy.

A common belief I see in monogamous people is that once you enter a relationship, you’re supposed to cut off communication and connection with anyone you’ve had emotional or sexual ties with.

That’s where phrases like:
Why are you still talking to your hookup now that you have me? Are you holding onto something?
Or:
If you’re still talking to them, you haven’t moved on.

This reinforces the idea that my relationship is fragile—something that could be destroyed at any moment by any threat.

It also implies that the only difference between my partner and everyone else is that we have sex (even though we may not have even defined what that means for us).

Worse, it creates a competitive environment where, quite literally, whoever loses gets discarded.

And then we wonder why it’s so hard to meet people and be vulnerable in dating.

Yes, but poly people do this more.
Have you noticed how we’re all just competing to prove who’s worse?

Statistically, monogamy is far more common than polyamory—so no. The issue isn’t the model. Someone with poor relational ethics and no emotional responsibility will behave poorly in any relationship structure.

The problem isn’t the model.
It’s how we’ve learned to relate.

You don’t need a justification to treat people as “in the meantime”, especially in a society that promotes it.

You can definitely do it. The real question is:
Do you want to?

I can’t have relationships without commitment

Here’s where another concept blows my mind a little: “casual relationships.”

I’ve met people who, when they learn I’m not looking for a romantic relationship, assume I want something like “sex without commitment or emotional connection”, because apparently those are the only two options we know.

From my perspective, it’s impossible to have a relationship with someone without commitment.

At the very least, I’m committed to treating you like a human being. Otherwise, I’m not relating to you, I’m using you.

But this comes down to how we define “commitment.”

Traditionally, I was taught that in a “serious,” “stable” monogamous relationship, commitment means:

• giving the relationship a label,

• being sexually and romantically exclusive,

• following the relationship escalator,

• prioritizing that person above all others.

Jessica Fern, in Polysecure, defines commitment in a romantic relationship as: regularly connecting, choosing to prioritize each other (not out of obligation), actively appreciating one another, doing the work to build the relationship, and possibly building a life together.

Traditionally, this commitment is “solidified” through marriage, having children, or meaningful rituals.

If we assume that’s the only definition of commitment, then it makes sense why relationships outside of a romantic partnership are seen as disposable and low-commitment.

In my case, I choose to commit in every relationship I have.

I simply choose the level of commitment I’m comfortable with, communicate it, and check whether it’s compatible with what the other person wants or needs—and vice versa.

For me, a romantic (or anchor) relationship includes things like:
– Defining what a romantic connection means and what I expect
– Taking you into account in life decisions
– Building a life project together
– Integrating you into my important social circles

If the connection isn’t romantic, it may include some or all of the following, depending on our negotiation:
– Clearly communicating what I want and need
– Listening to what you want and need
– Creating a safe space for you to say “no”
– Prioritizing consent and looking for a “full-body yes”
– Acting with compassion and assuming good intent
– Negotiating around incompatibilities
– Spending quality time together
– Considering your well-being in decisions that affect you
– Sexual interaction
– Emotional vulnerability
– Including you in social activities
– Helping with everyday tasks
– Sharing both mundane and novel experiences
– Prioritizing you (without ignoring others)
– Being there when you’re sick
– Maintaining regular communication
– Offering emotional, logistical, or physical support

No way! All of that with everyone?
No. This is a list of ingredients I can use to define the level of commitment I want with you.

For example, if I go to a restaurant, I’m committed to treating the person serving me with respect, considering their needs, and communicating clearly. If something goes wrong, I respond with compassion and focus on repair.

But if I have an emotional or sexual (non-romantic) connection, I might include everything in the second list.

That’s why when someone tells me they want a relationship without commitment, I step back.

I don’t want a relationship without commitment.
I want a relationship with intentional, clear, specific commitment.

So… can commitment change?

At this point, you might be wondering how to know what level of commitment you want with someone you’re just starting to get to know. What if you commit to something and later realize it’s not what you want?

Remember: agreements are flexible.

So then why complain about being ‘the in the meantime’ if people can change their commitment?

Here’s the key difference, something I learned in ethical polyamory:

Everything is negotiable if you respect everyone’s agency, acting with honesty so people can give free, enthusiastic, informed, specific, and reversible consent, while considering everyone’s well-being with compassion.

When I change my commitment based on what a third person wants, I’m not doing that.

It’s valid—and even ethical—to decide you want to change your level of commitment with someone. But that requires a conversation.

What usually happens is that the relationship with the most power in the hierarchy (typically the romantic one) modifies all the others without considering what those other people want.

What kind of commitment do you want?

I’ve chosen to be intentional. To reflect on what I can offer and what I need in each relationship I choose. I communicate it, and I ask the other person what they want.

That’s what I do.

What about you?

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