Tag Archives: Relationships

The Problem with TNG Groups: Why We Can’t Afford to Ignore the Elders (Updated)

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The update is because apparently I wasn’t clear enough around the distinction between BDSM play and sex, while making the case for intergenerational mentorship, without diluting the importance of age-specific spaces. 

By now, most of us active in the kink world have heard of TNG groups – short for The Next Generation. These are community spaces, usually restricted to members aged 18 to 35, designed to provide younger people with opportunities to explore BDSM among peers, free from what some see as the social and sexual pressures of older participants.

I understand the motivation. For younger people, entering a kink space for the first time can be daunting, especially when it’s populated by people who are decades older. There’s a very real concern about predatory behaviour, especially in communities where power exchange is already a central theme. Boundaries matter. And spaces where younger kinksters can build confidence, self-knowledge, and friendships without fear of being “creeped on” are valid and valuable.

Yet, somewhere along the way, the well-intentioned effort to protect and empower young people has hardened into something less healthy: exclusion. What began as a way to create peer-based support networks has too often become a wall that blocks essential mentorship, skill transmission, and historical continuity, elements that BDSM, as both a practice and a culture, can’t afford to lose.

BDSM Is Not Sex – But Sex Has Muddied the Water
We need to start by untangling a key confusion that’s quietly undermining both sides of this debate: BDSM play is not inherently sexual. The popularization of kink through mainstream media and online platforms like FetLife and Reddit has brought in a wave of newcomers, many from swinger or sex-positive backgrounds, who conflate BDSM with sex, and especially with casual sex.

To be clear, there is nothing wrong with mixing sex and kink when it’s negotiated. But BDSM is, at its core, about power exchange, control, sensation, trust, and often intense emotional experiences. For many long-time practitioners, myself included, it’s not about genitals or orgasms. It’s about precision, discipline, psychological connection, and often an aesthetic rooted in service, restraint, and deep consent.

When younger kinksters say, “We don’t want to be hit on by older members,” they are absolutely within their rights, but when that discomfort is extended to include exclusion from educational play parties, skill shares, or mentoring scenes simply because someone is over 40, we are no longer talking about safety, we’re talking about ageism. And in doing so, we risk throwing out the very scaffolding that makes BDSM sustainable.

The Value of Mentorship in BDSM
Unlike sex, which most people figure out through personal experimentation, BDSM carries real physical, psychological, and ethical risks. There are tools that can break skin, restrict breathing, or trigger trauma. There are dynamics that mimic abuse but rely on deep consent, mutual care, and communication. These things are not intuitive. They are learned.

Much of what we know today about safety, negotiation, aftercare, trauma-informed practice, and even how to structure a D/s relationship, was developed by earlier generations of kinksters who often learned the hard way. There is a lineage of knowledge that deserves to be passed down, not cut off.

I’ve seen firsthand what happens when younger players are left to figure things out on their own. I’ve watched scenes falter because no one recognized emotional drop. I’ve seen harm escalate because boundaries were not clearly discussed. I’ve witnessed newer Dominants imitate porn-inspired dynamics with no understanding of service, responsibility, or care. And I’ve seen submissives pushed beyond their limits by equally inexperienced peers, not out of cruelty, but out of ignorance.

This is not a matter of policing young people. It’s a call to enrich their experience with the depth of collective wisdom that already exists.

Let TNG Stay Social – But Open the Gates for Skill-Building
To be clear, I’m not against TNG spaces. The desire to socialize with peers is entirely valid. Younger folks deserve spaces where they can be themselves, flirt freely, and build community without feeling objectified by older members, but BDSM play spaces and skill-sharing events are not the same thing as social mixers. When TNG policies extend to the full exclusion of older, experienced practitioners from education-focused events, we lose the very thing that makes kink community valuable.

The solution isn’t to abandon age-based spaces, it’s to differentiate between social comfort and educational necessity. TNG groups can and should host age-restricted munches, parties, and discussion groups, but when it comes to workshops, play parties focused on learning, mentorship programs, and community leadership, older kinksters still have a vital role to play.

That role isn’t about control or dominance over the group. It’s about availability, humility, and stewardship. The job of an elder isn’t to run the show, but to help others run their own shows safely and meaningfully.

Safer Communities Require Bridges, Not Walls
We don’t build safer communities by locking people out. We build them by teaching people how to assess risk, how to spot manipulation, how to say no and how to hear no. These are not age-bound skills, they are community-bound ones, and community can’t thrive without cross-generational dialogue.

We also need to reject the simplistic framing that younger equals safe and older equals predatory. Harmful behaviour exists across all ages, genders, and orientations. What matters is ethics, accountability, and communication, not the date on someone’s birth certificate.

Toward a New Kind of TNG – One Rooted in Collaboration
Imagine a model where TNG groups maintain social autonomy, but invite older members to run skill-based workshops, offer scene coaching, or mentor newer Dominants and submissives. Where events have posted boundaries, vetting, and safety teams, but also include intergenerational wisdom. Where “creepy” behaviour is called out and dealt with directly, not just filtered out through blanket age bans. Where learning is prioritized, not sanitized.

TNG spaces could become crucibles for a new kind of kink culture, one that’s trauma-informed, neurodivergence-aware, inclusive, and intersectional, but only if they also embrace the old lessons that still matter. We don’t need elders to dominate the room, but we do need them to be in the room.

Don’t Lose the Map
No one climbs a mountain without a guide. And no one should be expected to navigate the emotional, psychological, and physical terrain of BDSM without access to experienced support. If you’re 22 and just stepping into kink, you deserve better than a social group with no elders, and a YouTube playlist. You deserve mentorship, safety, and tradition alongside your peer group.

At the time of writing, my regular BDSM play partners range in age from their early 30s to mid 60s, and I’m currently mentoring a newcomer to the community in her early 40s. Because we’ve taken the time to communicate clearly, set expectations, and build trust, age fades into the background. What truly matters are knowledge, skill, and lived experience.

It’s time we stopped treating age as the enemy and started treating community as the goal. Let the TNG groups flourish, but let the wisdom flow.

Sources
• Barker, M., & Langdridge, D. (2010). Understanding Non-Monogamies. Routledge.
• Newmahr, S. (2011). Playing on the Edge: Sadomasochism, Risk, and Intimacy. Indiana University Press.
• Easton, D., & Hardy, J. W. (2017). The Ethical Slut (3rd ed.). Ten Speed Press.
• Rubel, D. J. (2014). “Kink and the Problem of Nonsexual Intimacy.” Journal of Positive Sexuality, 1(1), 16–19.
• Martinez, T. (2022). “The Rise and Limits of TNG Spaces in the Kink Community.” Leatherati Archive.

Great Textpectations: And Other Hauntings From Ghosters Anonymous

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Ah yes, ghosting, the ultimate disappearing act of the digital age. It’s like ditching a party through the bathroom window without so much as a “thanks for the snacks.” Passive-aggressive? Check. Lazy? Double check. But effective? Sure, if you count avoiding awkward conversations as an accomplishment. Spoiler alert – it’s not.

Let’s be real. Ghosting is less about sparing someone’s feelings and more about dodging accountability. It’s like saying, “I’m too emotionally constipated to have an adult conversation, so here’s eternal silence instead.” Bravo, ghoster. You’ve unlocked the relationship equivalent of turning off your phone and calling it self-care.

Now, here’s the plot twist: some people ghost people they actually like. Why, you ask? Oh, just a cocktail of commitment issues, fear of vulnerability, and the maturity of a houseplant. Think of it as emotional dodgeball, except they threw the ball, ran home, and never came back.

Research (and common sense) shows that people with attachment avoidance are the reigning champions of ghosting. These are the folks who would rather fake their own death than text, “This isn’t working out.” Instead, they fade away like a bad Wi-Fi signal, leaving you wondering if it was something you said, did, or wore (it wasn’t).

Here’s the kicker, ghosting isn’t about you. It’s about them. Their fears. Their insecurities. Their inability to handle adult-level emotions. So, when someone ghosts you, consider it a blessing. You just dodged a lifetime of, “Why won’t they talk about their feelings?” Pop the champagne and move on.

That said, let’s not sugarcoat it, ghosting hurts. It’s the emotional equivalent of yelling into an empty canyon and waiting for an echo that never comes. One minute you’re texting about your favorite pizza toppings, the next you’re refreshing your messages like a stock ticker in free fall. And just when you’ve pieced yourself back together, in shuffles the ghost turned zombie.

Ah yes, the zombie; a ghoster who rises from the dead with a “Hey stranger!” text at 2 a.m., as if they didn’t vanish like a magician’s rabbit. It’s the ultimate insult: “I didn’t care enough to stay, but I’m bored enough to come back.” Block them, delete the thread, and light a sage stick for good measure.

So, what’s the moral of the story? Ghosting is the coward’s way out. It’s a neon sign flashing, “I can’t handle hard conversations!” If you’re ghosted, clap for yourself because you dodged an emotional grenade. And if the zombie reappears? Ghost them right back. Poetic justice tastes even better than that pizza you never got to share.

Shared Spaces, Different Rules: When BDSM, Swinging, and Polyamory Collide

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This has been an ongoing topic of conversation among a number of my friends and community members over the last year. While this post is not the definitive answer, I hope it helps continue the discussion.

Merged doesn’t have to mean blurred

More and more, those of us in the BDSM, polyamory, and swinger communities are finding ourselves in overlapping spaces: at events, online, and even in our relationships. What used to be distinct subcultures with their own values and norms is starting to feel like one big, blended scene.

For some, this is energizing. For others, it’s disorienting.

The truth is, we don’t all approach relationships, power, or sex the same way. And while there’s room for overlap, there’s also the risk of misunderstanding, boundary friction, or even cultural erasure if we don’t approach this merger with care.

So let’s talk about what we’re gaining, and what we could lose, when our communities start to share the same space.

Why the Overlap is Happening

The convergence of these communities isn’t random. We all operate outside traditional relationship structures and sexual expectations. We value consent, self-determination, and authenticity.

And let’s be honest; finding safe, welcoming spaces can be hard. It makes sense that events and groups are becoming more collaborative and open to cross-community participation.

Many people don’t want to pick just one label. A polyamorous submissive might enjoy occasional swinger parties. A Dominant may explore romantic non-monogamy. Shared spaces let people experiment and connect without feeling boxed in.

On a practical level, venue access, costs, and organizers’ energy also drive collaboration, yet collaboration only works when we recognize how different our needs and expectations can be.

What We Gain by Coming Together

💬 Bigger, Stronger Communities
Merging creates larger, more resilient networks. Whether we’re sharing resources, building friendships, or pushing for social recognition, we’re stronger together.

📚 Learning Across Lifestyles
Each community has something to teach. BDSM offers detailed consent frameworks and boundary-setting. Polyamory brings emotional literacy and communication models. Swingers know how to host low-pressure sexual spaces. Shared wisdom benefits us all.

🎉 More Inclusive Events
Workshops, discussion nights, and play parties with room for cross-community participation give people a chance to explore without committing to a label.

📢 Amplified Visibility
Speaking together helps shift the narrative about non-normative relationships and sexualities. We challenge stereotypes more effectively when our voices are united.

But There Are Real Risks, Too

⚠️ Different Cultures, Different Norms
Each community operates on its own foundation:

  • BDSM: Structured power dynamics, not necessarily tied to sex or romance.
  • Swinging: Primarily recreational sex, often in couple-based social networks.
  • Polyamory: Emotional intimacy, often with long-term relational goals.

These are more than an orientation or styles, they’re cultural languages. Colliding without translation causes friction.

🚧 Consent and Boundary Confusion
In BDSM, consent is explicit and often negotiated in advance. In swinger circles, casual physicality may be expected. Poly meetups might center on emotional connection, not touch. If expectations aren’t clear, people get hurt, even unintentionally.

🏠 Loss of Dedicated Spaces
Some BDSM dungeons now carry sexual expectations introduced through swinger norms. For those who use BDSM as a non-sexual, power-centered expression, that shift can feel deeply alienating.

🧩 Risk of Exclusion
When merged spaces cater mostly to those who fit all three categories, others get pushed to the edge. An asexual Dominant, or a solo polyamorous person uninterested in parties, may not find what they need in these new environments.

🤷‍♂️ Public Misunderstanding
Outsiders already conflate BDSM, polyamory, and swinging. Merged visibility can increase confusion: polyamory gets reduced to casual sex, BDSM gets sexualized, swinging gets dismissed. Nuance is lost.

So How Do We Do It Right?

✨ Clarity Above All
Be transparent. Is this a BDSM workshop with room for poly topics? A swinger party with structured scenes? People need to know what they’re walking into.

✨ Consent Is More Than a Buzzword
It’s not just about sex or play – it’s about everything. Don’t assume touch, energy, or conversation is welcome without agreement.

✨ Shared Events, Distinct Zones
Merged doesn’t have to mean blurred. Offer spaces within events that honor BDSM protocol, support poly dialogue, or provide swinger-friendly play. Let people choose their comfort zones.

✨ Center Marginalized Voices
Make space for the folks who get overlooked – queer, trans, neurodivergent, BIPOC, disabled, and asexual folks deserve to feel included in merged scenes, too.

Final Thoughts

The blending of BDSM, swinging, and polyamory is happening, whether we plan for it or not. The question is: will we do it with care?

We don’t need to erase our boundaries to share space. We just need to see each other clearly, communicate well, and build with intention.

If we do that, we create a community that’s not only broader; but deeper, richer, and more resilient than any of us could build alone.

Suggested Tags

#BDSM #Polyamory #Swingers #Community #ConsentCulture #NonMonogamy #EthicalNonMonogamy #PowerExchange #RelationshipAnarchy #RespectTheDifferences #MergedSpaces #AltSexualities #NavigatingBoundaries #FetLifeVoices

A Polyamory Field Guide for Confused Monogamists

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Because love is wild, weird, and occasionally involves group calendars.

Welcome, curious traveler. If you’ve stumbled upon this guide, it likely means someone you know: your co-worker, yoga teacher, ex, cousin, or that barista with the undercut and a quiet glow, has outed themselves as polyamorous. And you? You’re confused, intrigued, possibly mildly panicked. Never fear! This field guide will gently walk you through the exotic, misunderstood, and thoroughly lovable creature that is the polyamorous human – so, let’s begin.

🧭 Species Overview: What Even Is a Polyamorous Person?
Scientific name: Homo relatus plurimus
Common name: “Poly person,” “Polycule member,” “My girlfriend’s girlfriend’s boyfriend”

These marvelous mammals form consensual, often complex, romantic or emotional bonds with more than one partner at a time, and they do it on purpose. This is not cheating, drama, or a mid-life crisis wrapped in a dreamcatcher. This is a relationship orientation, NOT a lifestyle, based on honesty, consent, and surprisingly detailed calendar invites.

🔍 Identification Tips: How to Spot a Polyamorous Person
Poly people often blend in with the general population, but subtle signs include:
• An uncanny fluency in emotional vocabulary (“We’re having a boundaries conversation later tonight!”).
• Casual references to more than one romantic partner without a trace of scandal.
• Slightly glazed eyes when explaining relationship structures to their monogamous friends.
• A tote bag with a slogan like “Love is not a limited resource,” or “Jealousy is a feeling, not a crime scene.”

🛠️ Care and Handling: Interacting With a Polyamorous Person
✅ DO:
• Ask questions respectfully if you’re curious.
• Understand that their love life isn’t about you.
• Remember that polyamory is about choices, not deficiencies.
• Recognize that it’s not “open season” on their relationship.

❌ DO NOT:
• Say, “I could never do that” as if it’s a moral high ground.
• Ask, “Which one is your real partner?”
• Suggest therapy unless they’ve asked you for referrals.
• Assume they’re hitting on you. Seriously. They’re busy.

📅 Mating Rituals and Social Habits
Polyam folks engage in a variety of rituals, including:
• Metamour brunches (bonding with their partner’s partner over pancakes and mutual respect).
• Group text diplomacy, where emotional logistics rival that of small governments.
• Cuddle piles – think platonic affection meets adult slumber party.
• Relationship check-ins that sound like performance reviews, but with more hand-holding.

They are generally very adept at managing emotional needs, being transparent, and decolonizing their expectations of romance. Wild, I know.

🧠 Cognitive Traits: What’s Going On in Their Big Open Minds? 
Common traits include:
• A belief in abundance over scarcity.
• A deep commitment to radical honesty.
• Advanced communication skills developed through trial, error, and books with titles like The Ethical Slut, polysecure, and More Than Two (we don’t talk about the drama around that one).
• Often hold the revolutionary idea that different people meet different emotional needs, and that’s… fine?

🦺 Safety Precautions
Approaching a polyamorous person does not put you at risk of:
• Losing your spouse (unless you’re already halfway there).
• Being dragged into a cult (unless it’s the cult of clear communication).
• Having to talk about your feelings (okay, maybe a little).

🗣️ Frequently Asked Questions (FAQ)
Q: So do you all just sleep together?
A: Sometimes! But also sometimes we just eat noodles and talk about boundary renegotiation. It’s not a porno, Karen.

Q: What if you fall in love with someone else?
A: That’s kind of the idea. Love isn’t subtraction – it’s multiplication.

Q: Isn’t it just a phase?
A: So is high school. Doesn’t mean it wasn’t real.

Q: Can I be poly too?
A: Of course! If you’re willing to unpack your social conditioning, communicate honestly, and manage three anniversaries, a birthday, and a shared Google Doc titled “Feelings.”

🎉 Conclusion: Love Is Weird. That’s the Point.
At the end of the day, polyamory isn’t about being cooler, smarter, or more emotionally evolved than anyone else. It’s just one way, among many, to approach human connection. So if you meet a polyamorous person, don’t panic. Don’t assume. Just listen. They’re not here to convert you. They’re just living a life that works for them.

And in the grand safari of love, that’s something to admire, even if you prefer your own cozy monogamous tent. Now if you’ll excuse us, we’ve got a potluck at 7pm, and a relationship summit at 9pm.

A Gentleman’s Guide to Fostering Love

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At this point in my life, I’ve figured out who I am, and what I bring to the table. I’m not here for grand romantic illusions, nor am I fumbling through awkward first dates trying to impress anyone. No, what I do is far more refined – I teach, I mentor, I foster.

I provide a comfortable, well-appointed sanctuary for remarkable women in their 30s and 40s who are figuring out their next steps. They come into my life, full of ambition, wit, and occasionally a deep frustration with men who still haven’t mastered basic emotional intelligence. They stay for a while, we share some incredible experiences, and eventually, they find their forever home; sometimes with another partner, sometimes in a new adventure, and sometimes still with me, just in a different way.

Now, before you assume I’m some kind of wandering sage, let me be clear; I’m not a lonely old monk dispensing wisdom and jazz records. I’ve got a full, dynamic love life of my own. My partner in her 60s keeps me on my toes, challenging me in ways only someone who’s been around long enough to take no nonsense can. She’s my equal, my match, and my co-conspirator in navigating a life filled with love, humor, and a shared appreciation for craft ale, especially stouts. And then there are my younger partners, fiercely independent, brilliantly talented, and unwilling to settle for anything less than what they deserve.

I’m not collecting people; I’m building connections. And fostering isn’t about temporary fixes or waiting for someone to move on. It’s about appreciating the time we have together, without needing to force it into a predefined shape. Some partners stay in my orbit for years, others drift in and out, and it all works because honesty, respect, and a shared love of good conversation make everything smoother.

People often assume polyamory is chaotic, but that’s only if you’re doing it wrong. For me, it’s about balance. It’s about offering and receiving care without ownership. It’s about knowing that love isn’t a finite resource, and that just because someone moves on to another stage of their life doesn’t mean what we had wasn’t real.

And while I’ve fostered many wonderful women through various chapters of their journeys, let’s not forget, I’m a bit of a rescue myself. My partners challenge me, push me to grow, and occasionally force me to retire my outdated pop culture references. They bring new energy, new perspectives, and new reasons to keep up with life’s ever-changing rhythms.

So no, I don’t date in the traditional sense. I create space for extraordinary women to thrive, sometimes with me, sometimes elsewhere. And if that means I get to spend my years surrounded by sharp minds, quick wit, and an ever-expanding appreciation for different ways of loving? Well, I’d say that’s a pretty great forever home of my own.

Reinforcing Mononormativity at Women’s Expense

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Jennyfer Jay’s writing and social media presence offer an intimate, often vulnerable look into her personal experiences navigating contemporary womanhood. Her reflections on casual dating, relationships, and emotional growth resonate with many women grappling with a world that seems increasingly disconnected and transactional. However, despite the sincerity of her storytelling, her work implicitly reinforces mononormative narratives, those that assume monogamy as the only valid or fulfilling form of romantic relationship. This framing not only limits the imagination of what relationships can look like, but paradoxically sets women up for failure in the very dynamics she critiques.

Jay’s essays frequently center on the emotional toll of casual sex and emotionally unavailable men. While these are valid themes, her framing often implies that the natural arc of a woman’s life, and healing, is toward securing emotional commitment from one man. This reinforces the mononormative ideal that stability, validation, and maturity are achieved through exclusive partnership. In her work, men who avoid commitment are treated as broken or selfish, while women who desire commitment are portrayed as evolved or emotionally ready. This binary undercuts the possibility that diverse relationship structures, such as ethical non-monogamy, relationship anarchy, or solo polyamory, might also offer meaningful paths toward emotional growth, security, and connection.

What Jay’s narratives tend to overlook is the systemic nature of the mononormative trap. By valorizing monogamous commitment as the end goal, she leaves little room for women to explore other models of love and companionship without shame. Her reflections, while emotionally resonant, often risk pathologizing women’s unhappiness as stemming from men’s refusal to play their part in the monogamous script, rather than from the script itself. In this way, Jay participates in a cultural feedback loop where women are socialized to desire a particular kind of relationship, and then blamed, or encouraged to blame men, when it fails.

This dynamic is particularly evident in her TikTok content, where Jay sometimes uses the confessional format to speak to younger women about “knowing their worth” or “not settling for less.” While empowering on the surface, the subtext implies that true worth is ultimately validated by a partner who chooses exclusivity. This undermines women who find satisfaction in non-exclusive relationships, or who define emotional success on different terms. Furthermore, it shifts the burden of relational success onto women’s ability to “choose better,” rather than questioning the limiting structures themselves.

To be clear, Jennyfer Jay’s work has value: it opens important conversations, validates emotional experiences, and challenges harmful behaviour, but it is also crucial to interrogate the assumptions it upholds. A deeper, more liberatory feminist approach would challenge the centrality of monogamy altogether, recognizing that love, commitment, and emotional fulfillment need not conform to normative ideals. Without this lens, Jay’s content risks entrenching the very narratives it seeks to critique, leaving women emotionally entangled in systems that do not serve them.

Sources:
• Jennyfer Jay on Medium: https://medium.com/@JennyferJay
• Jennyfer Jay on TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@jennyferjay
• Pieper, M. (2020). Mononormativity and Its Discontents. Journal of Contemporary Social Theory.
• Barker, M. (2013). Rewriting the Rules: An Integrative Guide to Love, Sex and Relationships. Routledge.

Why Your Dismissive-Avoidant Partner Loves You From Across the Room (With the Door Slightly Ajar)

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Ah, the dismissive-avoidant attachment style. The human equivalent of a cat: they might love you, they might not, but either way, they’re going to knock your emotional mug off the table just to see what happens.

Dismissive-avoidants are the folks who will cuddle you on the couch and then, without warning, evaporate like steam in a British mystery novel. You think things are going great, you’re texting every day, you’ve met each other’s pets, you’ve even shared fries. Suddenly, they’re “just really needing some space” and have gone to “work on themselves” in the wilderness with no signal and no return date.

Now, don’t get me wrong, they’re not bad people. They just learned, somewhere along the way, that feelings are kind of like bees: unpredictable, swarming, and best avoided if possible. These folks often grew up in homes where vulnerability was about as welcome as a raccoon at a wedding. So, they built themselves emotional panic rooms and installed locks with 87-digit codes.

Dating a dismissive-avoidant can be a little like dating a haunted house. There’s a lot going on inside, but they don’t want you poking around in the attic. Ask them how they feel, and they’ll either crack a joke or vanish in a puff of logic. “I don’t need to talk about feelings. Feelings are just electrical impulses. You know what else are electrical impulses? Traffic lights. And I don’t cry at those, do I?”

These are the champions of “I’m not really looking for anything serious” and “I just want to see where this goes”, which is often directly into a brick wall labeled unavailable. But don’t let that deter you, because dismissive-avoidants do fall in love. It just takes a while. And by a while, I mean longer than it takes for an avocado to go from rock-hard to brown mush.

They actually value connection deeply, but only if it doesn’t interfere with their need for independence, alone time, or the ability to escape through a metaphorical skylight at any moment. They’re like emotional ninjas: stealthy, elusive, and weirdly attractive.

If you’re dating one, the key is patience, and a good sense of humor. Celebrate the small wins: they made eye contact while discussing their emotions? Break out the champagne. They admitted they missed you (after a three-week silence)? Start planning the wedding.

Just remember: when they say, “I don’t really do emotions,” what they mean is, “Emotions are terrifying and I don’t know how to do them without short-circuiting like a 1996 printer.”

So love them gently, laugh a lot, and maybe invest in a nice doormat that says “Welcome-ish.”, because with a dismissive-avoidant, you never know when they’ll show up, but when they do, it’s almost always in their own charming, weirdly tender way. Just don’t ask them to define the relationship too soon. That’s how you get ghosted via interpretive dance.

From Work Husbands to Instagram Crushes: Embracing the Messy Beauty of Human Bonds

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There’s been a lot of talk lately about “microcheating”, that nebulous zone between platonic friendship and outright infidelity that’s often fueled by digital intimacy. You’ve probably seen the headlines or heard a podcast warn you about the dangers of liking your ex’s selfie or texting a coworker late at night. Critics point to social media as the villain, a tool for secret flirtations and emotional betrayal, but let’s take a breath and be honest; people have always had emotionally rich, complicated connections outside of their primary partnerships. We just used to call them something else.

Take, for example, the decades-old concept of the “work wife” or “work husband.” Long before we were DM’ing heart emojis or watching each other’s stories on Instagram, we were confiding in coworkers, sharing emotional labor, cracking inside jokes, and supporting each other through the grind of daily life. These relationships have always lived in a gray area, close enough to be intimate, but generally understood to stop short of romantic or sexual; and yet, we largely accepted them as harmless, even beneficial. We chuckled at the idea of having “two spouses”, one at home, and one who understands your work stress better than anyone else. No one called it microcheating back then, it was just life.

The moral panic around microcheating today says more about our evolving discomfort with complexity than it does about the relationships themselves. In a world that’s increasingly networked, emotionally porous, and socially dynamic, we are clinging to a monogamous template that often doesn’t serve how we actually live or love. When people form emotional attachments through social media, or deepen their connections with someone outside their marriage, the problem isn’t necessarily the connection, it’s the secrecy, the shame, the absence of clear agreements. If anything, these “infractions” point to a need for more openness, more dialogue, and more room for complexity in how we relate to each other.

As someone who supports and lives polyamory, believing that humans are naturally wired for multiple meaningful relationships, I find it fascinating how society polices these invisible lines. Why is it okay to rely on your “work husband” for emotional validation every day, but suspicious if you develop a deep bond with someone online? Why is one seen as harmless routine, and the other as emotional betrayal? It often comes down to how much control we believe we’re entitled to exert over our partners’ inner lives. Frankly, that control is rarely about love, it’s often more about fear.

The truth is, what is being called microcheating is a symptom of a culture that wants the emotional richness of multiple connections, but refuses to grant itself the language or permission to explore them consciously. People are starving for intimacy, for shared secrets, for someone who listens without judgment. They find it where they can, sometimes in a DM thread, sometimes across the break room coffee machine. Rather than pathologizing these relationships, we should be making space for them. We should be encouraging couples, and moresomes, to talk about what kinds of emotional connections they’re open to, what boundaries feel respectful, and how to share space without falling into surveillance or possessiveness.

In polyamorous circles, we understand that love and connection aren’t zero-sum. My emotional intimacy with one person doesn’t diminish what I share with another, rather it expands my capacity. So when I see the hysteria over someone maintaining a friendship that’s “too close,” I wonder, what would change if we trusted each other more? If we understood that our partners are complex, full-hearted beings who may love more than one person deeply, and that’s not a threat, but a gift?

The rise of microcheating discourse reflects a growing tension between our social conditioning, and our relational reality. Maybe instead of drawing stricter lines, we should be blurring them with intention. Naming the feelings! Creating agreements! Inviting more truth into the room, because whether it’s a work spouse, an online confidante, or someone you just really vibe with over coffee, there’s nothing inherently wrong with emotional closeness. What matters is the integrity with which we hold it.

Attachment Styles: A Pigeonhole for Every Relationship Problem

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I wrote this piece in response to a comment from one of my readers.  I hope they like it; it’s a follow up on the post “A Pigeonhole for Every Personality” 

If there’s one thing western society loves almost as much as personality tests, it’s diagnosing relationship dynamics with attachment styles. Suddenly, every awkward text message delay, every weird argument over who forgot to buy oat milk, and every vague feeling of existential dread about love can be neatly categorized into one of four labels: Secure, Anxious, Avoidant, or the truly thrilling combo package—Fearful-Avoidant.

It’s like the Myers-Briggs of romance, except instead of deciding whether you’re an introvert or extrovert, you get to figure out whether you cling to your partner like a koala in a windstorm, or bolt for the door the second someone gets emotionally vulnerable.

The concept of attachment styles comes from psychologist John Bowlby, who first theorized that the way we bonded with our caregivers as infants shapes how we approach relationships in adulthood. Sounds reasonable, right? But the internet has turned this into an all-consuming diagnostic tool, where every failed romance is either the fault of an anxious partner texting too much or an avoidant partner texting… never.

The Pigeonholes of Love
Let’s start with the holy grail: Secure Attachment. If you have this, congratulations! You are a unicorn. You text back promptly, communicate your needs like a functional adult, and somehow don’t panic when your partner asks, “Hey, can we talk?” You were probably raised by parents who hugged you at the right times, and never forgot to pick you up from soccer practice. The rest of us admire you, resent you a little, and assume you exist mostly in fiction.

Then there’s Anxious Attachment, a.k.a. the Overthinker’s Club. These are the people who send, “Hey, everything okay?” when you don’t respond within 15 minutes, then follow up with, “Sorry, never mind, ignore me,” followed by, “Actually, I just wanted to check in,” and finally, “I guess you hate me now.” They crave closeness, but also kind of expect to be abandoned at any moment, which makes dating them an emotional rollercoaster with no seatbelts.

On the flip side, we have Avoidant Attachment, the poster child for ghosting. These folks see a heartfelt emotional conversation the way most people see an unsolicited call from their car insurance provider: something to be avoided at all costs. Their love language is “mysterious silence” and they’d rather disappear into the woods than have a deep talk about feelings. Commitment feels suffocating, which is why they often end up dating people with anxious attachment, because nothing says “healthy relationship” like one person desperately clinging, and the other desperately pulling away.

And then, for the truly chaotic, we have Fearful-Avoidant Attachment, also known as “Anxious and Avoidant, Because Why Not?” These individuals desperately want connection but also deeply fear it, making every relationship a high-stakes game of emotional Jenga. They text “I miss you” and then immediately throw their phone into the sea. They want love, but also, love is terrifying. It’s exhausting for everyone involved.

Escaping the Labels
Like every other personality test, attachment styles are useful, until they become a life sentence. Sure, maybe your childhood shaped your relationship habits, but that doesn’t mean you’re doomed to spend eternity analyzing your texts like a forensic scientist. People can change, grow, and even, brace yourself, go to therapy.

So, the next time someone tells you they’re anxiously attached or avoidantly wired, smile, nod, and remember;  nobody fits neatly into a box. Except maybe Secure people. But honestly, who trusts them?

The Often Hidden, and Misunderstood Dominant/submissive Dynamic in Human Relationships

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At the core of every human interaction lies a subtle dance of power and vulnerability – a dynamic of dominance and submission. This concept, while often misunderstood or dismissed, is deeply embedded in the way we connect with one another, influencing everything from romantic relationships to professional interactions and even friendships. It’s not always about control or acquiescence in the traditional sense, but about the ebb and flow of influence, support, and leadership.

The Universal Nature of Power Dynamics
Power dynamics exist on a spectrum, manifesting in ways both explicit and implicit. In romantic partnerships, for instance, one partner might naturally take the lead in decision-making or planning, while the other might shine in nurturing emotional intimacy. Neither role is inherently superior – both are essential to a healthy balance. This interplay isn’t about domination in a harsh sense; it’s about trust. Submission, in this context, is a choice to yield or follow, often driven by respect for the other’s strengths.

Even in friendships, these dynamics are present. Think about your closest friends: Is there someone who often initiates plans or provides guidance when you’re struggling? Conversely, is there someone who seeks comfort or advice from you? These roles might shift over time or depend on the situation, but the dynamic persists.

Why Dominance and Submission Are Not Always About Control
Dominance often carries a negative connotation, evoking images of manipulation or authoritarian behavior. But in healthy dynamics, dominance is less about control and more about leadership, confidence, or decisiveness. Similarly, submission isn’t about weakness—it’s about trust, vulnerability, and the willingness to let someone else take the reins when appropriate.

Consider a workplace setting. A manager might take on the dominant role by providing direction, while employees adopt a submissive role by following that direction to achieve shared goals. However, a good manager also knows when to step back and listen, showing that dominance and submission are situational and reciprocal.

The Fluidity of These Roles
The most successful relationships – romantic, platonic, or professional – are those where dominance and submission flow naturally and aren’t rigidly fixed. A romantic partner who typically leads financially might lean on their counterpart for emotional stability. A friend who usually gives advice might need a shoulder to cry on. Recognizing this fluidity allows for deeper, more authentic connections because each person feels valued for their unique contributions.

The Pitfalls of Imbalance
Problems arise when one person perpetually dominates or perpetually submits, leaving no room for reciprocity. An overly dominant person may come across as controlling or dismissive, while an overly submissive person may lose their sense of self or feel unfulfilled. Healthy dynamics require mutual respect, clear communication, and a willingness to adapt to each other’s needs.

Embracing the Dynamic
Recognizing the Dominance/submission dynamic in your relationships doesn’t mean you need to label or overanalyze every interaction. Instead, it’s an opportunity to better understand yourself and the people around you. Who tends to take charge, and in what situations? When do you feel most comfortable leading, and when do you find strength in stepping back?

Ultimately, this dynamic is not about power for its own sake – it’s about balance. Every human connection thrives on give-and-take, on moments of leadership and surrender. Embracing this truth can help you build deeper, more meaningful relationships grounded in trust, respect, and mutual support.

In what areas of your life do you see this dynamic at play?