SableNoctis
New member
Polyamory can be beautiful, but it also has a dark side—one that my partner and I have lived through firsthand. These experiences have shaped how we approach relationships today, and most of all, they've taught us not to rush into things blindly.
I don’t align with labels, and I don’t use pronouns, but what I do know is that I’ve evolved my understanding of relationships through pain and experience.
The First Relationship – A Wedge Between Us
The first openly poly relationship I had was with someone from my past who re-entered my life alongside my main partner. At first, everything seemed fine—she was loving, accepting, and open. But over time, cracks started to show. She grew distant, cold, and increasingly manipulative, demanding more and more of my attention. Eventually, it became clear that she was playing mind games, intentionally driving a wedge between my partner and me.
She knew we had money, and looking back, it’s clear she was using us to fund her move across the country. At one point, my main partner had to leave our home for nearly three months, and this person almost managed to split us apart entirely.
The final blow was when she claimed to be pregnant with my son, but never provided any real proof. Fourteen years later, I still don’t know if the boy is mine. I’ve never met him, and I haven’t seen or heard from her since. All I know is that she had a history of abuse, and eventually moved on into a monogamous relationship.
The Second Relationship – Violence and Chaos
The second experience was a winter relationship. She seemed open to being with both my partner and me, and we even planned to move in together. Everything felt aligned—until New Year’s Eve, about ten years ago.
That night, something inside her snapped. She picked up her pagan walking stick and swung it at my partner, singing in some kind of trance. I caught the second swing before she could knock my partner out. The law got involved, but before we could fully process what had happened, she kicked us out—nearly 50 miles from our main house.
We hadn’t quite given up yet, but when we tried to retrieve our belongings, she locked the doors and barricaded herself inside. It took the authorities to get her to let us in, and even then, we could only take what we could fit into a taxi (which was just about everything we moved, thankfully). That was the last time we ever saw her.
Where We Stand Now
After those experiences, my partner and I closed ourselves off for what feels like a decade now. We agreed that if we ever opened up again, it would be with extreme caution—no rushing in, no "guns blazing." We’ve seen firsthand how abuse can break people, and we’ve learned the hard way how important it is to build something strong before inviting others in.
Polyamory isn’t just about love—it’s about trust, communication, and boundaries. When those are broken, the damage can be immense.
For now, we live in the understanding that while polyamory can work, it has to be done right. And for us, that means moving slowly, being careful, and never ignoring red flags again.
I don’t align with labels, and I don’t use pronouns, but what I do know is that I’ve evolved my understanding of relationships through pain and experience.
The First Relationship – A Wedge Between Us
The first openly poly relationship I had was with someone from my past who re-entered my life alongside my main partner. At first, everything seemed fine—she was loving, accepting, and open. But over time, cracks started to show. She grew distant, cold, and increasingly manipulative, demanding more and more of my attention. Eventually, it became clear that she was playing mind games, intentionally driving a wedge between my partner and me.
She knew we had money, and looking back, it’s clear she was using us to fund her move across the country. At one point, my main partner had to leave our home for nearly three months, and this person almost managed to split us apart entirely.
The final blow was when she claimed to be pregnant with my son, but never provided any real proof. Fourteen years later, I still don’t know if the boy is mine. I’ve never met him, and I haven’t seen or heard from her since. All I know is that she had a history of abuse, and eventually moved on into a monogamous relationship.
The Second Relationship – Violence and Chaos
The second experience was a winter relationship. She seemed open to being with both my partner and me, and we even planned to move in together. Everything felt aligned—until New Year’s Eve, about ten years ago.
That night, something inside her snapped. She picked up her pagan walking stick and swung it at my partner, singing in some kind of trance. I caught the second swing before she could knock my partner out. The law got involved, but before we could fully process what had happened, she kicked us out—nearly 50 miles from our main house.
We hadn’t quite given up yet, but when we tried to retrieve our belongings, she locked the doors and barricaded herself inside. It took the authorities to get her to let us in, and even then, we could only take what we could fit into a taxi (which was just about everything we moved, thankfully). That was the last time we ever saw her.
Where We Stand Now
After those experiences, my partner and I closed ourselves off for what feels like a decade now. We agreed that if we ever opened up again, it would be with extreme caution—no rushing in, no "guns blazing." We’ve seen firsthand how abuse can break people, and we’ve learned the hard way how important it is to build something strong before inviting others in.
Polyamory isn’t just about love—it’s about trust, communication, and boundaries. When those are broken, the damage can be immense.
For now, we live in the understanding that while polyamory can work, it has to be done right. And for us, that means moving slowly, being careful, and never ignoring red flags again.
