Everything in your body is saying yes to what the person you're getting hot and heavy with wants to do next, but you pull back, take a breath, and say, "Uuugh! I want to, but I think I better hold off until I have a chance to talk to my partner about it first..."
This doesn't seem like a bad thing...It seems thoughtful, considerate and reasonable, right? For the same reasons it makes perfect sense that you're upset when your partner comes home and tells you they genuinely accidentally went a little further than your current agreements allow.
You value trust. Safety. Honesty. Closeness. Connection.
And everything you've ever read about polyamory has pointed you in the direction of clear agreements like these. And it makes sense. You like the idea of having the clarity and security of knowing that you'll have time to adjust to what your partner wants to do and vice versa.
Only, you haven't actually experienced the sense of freedom that you were hoping to feel when you decided to open up the relationship.
It feels like you spend five or more hours processing about something that wouldn't even take more than an hour to do. You don't really think of it as settling or compromising on what you want, because you know who your partner is and if you only give them some more time you're pretty sure they'll come around and then hopefully you can do what you want WITHOUT negatively impacting them or the relationship.
Because, let's face it, this whole polyamory thing has turned out to be surprisingly more complex than you expected, right? It's triggering you more deeply than you expected with the pangs of jealousy and gut-wrenching visions in your head of your partner being with other people.
You feel guilty for being out on a date and genuinely enjoying yourself while your partner is home, anxious and potentially having a panic attack... But then when you're the one at home while they're out, it's not much easier for you either...
Maybe you talk about being "solo poly" like it's a threat, as a desperate plea for your partner to slow down, or speed up, or whatever it is that would need to happen for you two to be on the same page...
I know that's how it was for me, anyway.
On the bad days, I was sobbing and my partner was yelling.
On the awkward days, we cuddled up in the hammock, feeling kind of disconnected because we were both lost in our dream-sequence playbacks of the night before we'd each spent with other people, but afraid to tell each other too much or say the wrong thing.
On the good days, we'd have made it through a difficult conversation, feeling closer for having talked it all through. Feeling like we could see and understand each other more clearly than at the beginning, and thinking we were on the same page again, until, inevitably, not too much later, one of us would want to do more than what the other was comfortable with and we'd be back in the pattern of upset again.
Sound familiar?