I Tried Polyamory for a Year — and Found Out I’m Not That Chill

By Leo Hartman

I Was Sure I Could Handle It

When my girlfriend first brought up opening our relationship, I said the most confident sentence of my life:

“Yeah, I think I’m chill enough for that.”

Reader, I was not.

At the time, “chill” felt like the evolved thing to be — like enlightenment, but with better orgasms. Everyone in Berlin (where I live) seemed to be “ethically non-monogamous” and having these post-capitalist orgies of emotional growth. I figured, why not me?

I Tried Polyamory for a Year — and Found Out I’m Not That Chill

Turns out, being “chill” about your girlfriend going on a date with someone who has abs and a motorcycle is a whole different skill set than reading The Ethical Slut on your lunch break.

The First Rule of Poly Club: Communication, Communication, Meltdown

The first few months were fine. I went on dates, she went on dates, we both came home with new stories and bruises. It felt exciting, mature — like we’d hacked monogamy.

Then came the night she mentioned someone new. I said all the right words (“That’s great! I’m happy for you!”), but my stomach did a full Cirque du Soleil routine.

Suddenly, I was overanalyzing text replies, stalking Instagram stories, and convincing myself that being jealous was anti-feminist.

It wasn’t the sex that got me — it was the story I told myself about what it meant. That someone else was more fun, freer, less neurotic.

Spoiler: they weren’t. But I had to go through a year of emotional cardio to learn that.

Polyamory Is Basically Therapy With Better Lighting

Here’s what no one tells you about polyamory: it’s not about managing other people’s bodies — it’s about managing your own ego.

You learn the difference between feeling left out and being abandoned, between needing reassurance and demanding ownership.

You realize that jealousy isn’t a red flag — it’s data.

When you’re poly, your nervous system becomes a lab experiment. Every insecurity you’ve ever had gets tested under pressure: Am I enough? Am I lovable if I’m not the only one?

Sometimes the answer is yes.Sometimes it’s “Jesus Christ, I need a nap.”

The Sex Was Great. The Schedules, Less So.

Logistically, polyamory is like trying to play 3D chess on Google Calendar.There were moments where the emotional intimacy was incredible — like being part of a tiny utopia of honesty and touch.

But there were also nights when everyone was overbooked, or someone’s new partner came over right after I left, and I’d sit on the U-Bahn home feeling like an unwanted extra in a movie about liberation.

Being open sounds sexy until you realize it also means sitting alone in your kitchen on a Friday night, eating pasta in your underwear while your girlfriend’s out exploring “new dynamics.”

I Learned That Freedom Isn’t Always Intimacy

By month ten, I’d gone from “sexually liberated king” to “guy journaling about attachment styles.”I wasn’t jealous of her partners — I was jealous of her ease.

She could flow between connections like water. I was more like a cat trying to swim.

That’s when I realized: I didn’t actually want endless options. I wanted safety — the kind that lets you go deep instead of wide.

Monogamy isn’t boring. It’s just underrated.Commitment can be the kink, if you do it consciously.

What I Learned (Other Than How to Cry in a Threesome)

• Jealousy isn’t evil. It’s a boundary alarm, not a flaw.

• Honesty is foreplay. You can’t do polyamory without radical communication.

• Poly doesn’t mean “never insecure again.” It means facing those insecurities with more compassion.

• Being “chill” is overrated. Being real is better.

In the end, I didn’t fail at polyamory — I just figured out it wasn’t my path.

Now I’m back to one-on-one relationships, still using all the skills I learned from being poly: honesty, curiosity, and asking, “What do you need right now?” without flinching.

And honestly? That feels pretty evolved too.