DEAR DR. NERDLOVE: I haven’t had many dating experiences, but the ones I have had have left me pretty confused.

My first relationship was your classic “early-years” situation. It was intense, messy, full of inexperience on both sides, and it ended suddenly and pretty harshly. The breakup was a catalyst for significant life changes, including starting therapy.

A couple of years later, I met someone and we drifted into this kind of early-summer relationship. I don’t remember every detail, but it was relatively healthy overall, aside from her dealing with bouts of anxiety. One moment that always stuck with me happened when we were sitting together talking, and out of nowhere she said “You do know your ex really loved you, right?” I never understand what she meant by that. The relationship ended when her anxiety made her unsure about continuing, so I walked away.

After that, I dated a few women very casually, but those connections never lasted long. Some just faded out, one situation escalated to the point where I had to involve the police, and another put my life at risk.

Following all of that, I unintentionally took a few years to myself. At some point, I met someone and we gradually developed feelings for each other. She told me she felt deeply safe with me and that the connection felt different to her, but things never took off romantically. When it became clear she wasn’t actually looking to date, more looking for emotional reassurance, I cut contact, and did so again when she reached out months later.

Since then, I’ve gone on to date three more women. One told me she “wasn’t ready” and then started seeing someone else almost immediately. Another seemed warm at the start, but when we travelled together her behaviour shifted dramatically and became very narcissistic and manipulative. The most recent “liked” me “a lot”, but still ended things.

So now I’m noticing a pattern. On the rare occasions I get close to someone, the beginning usually goes well. We see each other a few times, gradually spend more time together, share a strong physical connection, and open up emotionally. Consistently, I’m told I’m the best partner they’ve had, both sexually and in terms of kindness, maturity, and safety. Then they start distancing themselves, or they say something feels “off,” or that they’re “not ready,” or I see behaviour that’s a clear red flag, or they end up betraying the relationship altogether. Then a few weeks later they’re dating someone else and everything seems to fall into place for them, while I’m left on my own again for long stretches.

I could chalk this up to early experiences in youth and assume I gravitate toward emotionally unavailable people. Honestly, part of why I’m asking this now is because I recently logged into an old social account and stumbled on a message from someone I briefly dated in my early twenties, which was a relationship that meant next to nothing. She said she came across an old picture and realised how much she’d actually liked me back then, but insecurity made her act differently. She sent this over ten years after we’d dated. I didn’t reply.

Blaming childhood trauma feels too easy. I’m trying to figure out whether there’s something in my approach to dating that’s pushing people away. After all, I’m the one they move on from, very quickly, and they seem happier for it. I want to take responsibility for whatever part I’m playing, but I’m struggling to see exactly what that is.

The last thing I should mention is that none of these situations started with me directly asking someone out. Usually, we’d just spend time together until things naturally developed. The only dates I’ve been on were with those women. I’ve never actively pursued anyone. I’m told I’m a catch, and lately I do feel like more women are noticing me (and my platonic friendships with women have always been strong), but unless someone makes their interest obvious, I don’t want to make the first move.

Four Times Is A Pattern

DEAR FOUR TIMES IS A PATTERN: One of the things I tell people who seem to be having issues in their love life is to journal about who they’ve been dating and why, how those relationships progress and the way they ended. The point is to try to spot any patterns of behavior or outcome and see whether there is any overlap – in when these patterns start, in the type of person you’re dating, anything that seems to be happening with a frequency that’s greater than random happenstance.

It’s not that often that I hear from someone who has a pattern that seems this consistent across the board. And honestly, considering how you’ve been noting all of these recurring behaviors, I’m surprised you haven’t put things together yourself.

One of the things that I say often is that you are the common denominator in all your relationships; after all, these are your relationships, not ones that happen to other people. That doesn’t mean that your relationship struggles are always your fault; it just means that you’re a constant in the equation, not the constant. That’s why it can be important to examine your behavior, your actions and choices, and how they may be affecting your relationships. Being mindful of these can give you insight into what’s going on and why. Many times, the issues are external to you; bad luck exists, after all. But sometimes, the problem is something you are doing. And sometimes it’s something you’re not doing.

It doesn’t exactly take The Amazing Kreskin to figure out what’s happening here. I think it’s contained entirely in this sentence: “[…]unless someone makes their interest obvious, I don’t want to make the first move.”

There are two things that are strikingly consistent in your relationships. The first is that you’re extremely passive in dating – as you say, you don’t make the first move unless there’s no chance of rejection. The second is that you’re consistently dating women with high levels of anxiety, anxious attachment or other emotional issues. I don’t think it’s much of a stretch to suggest that the two are connected.

I mean, look at how your relationships progress: you hang out with people until “things naturally develop”, everything seems to be going well at first – complete with women saying “you’re the best partner they’ve had” – and then it detonates, messily and all over the place. Either they dip out – often, but not always moving to another partner shortly afterwards – or the relationship takes a turn for the toxic. On the occasions you hear from them again, it’s usually to mention how they didn’t appreciate what they had when they were with you.

These are almost textbook examples of people who are dealing with issues that are getting in the way of finding a healthy and productive relationship. Someone with an avoidant attachment style or who’s used to partners who’ve treated them badly often have trouble with relaxing into emotional intimacy or being able to trust. Many of them can be uncomfortable with a relationship that’s going “well”; it feels like something is wrong or that they’re sitting under the Sword of Damocles. It’s hard for them to accept being treated with respect or care because of how often they’ve been hurt or mistreated. Others have a hard time being able to be vulnerable or open simply because they’ve been taught that this is a form of weakness or vulnerability. As a result, they end up hitting the relationships self-destruct button by pushing their partner away or they have an anxiety spike that causes them to hit the eject button.

Not surprisingly, some of them will then go on to relationships that fit negative or neglectful patterns that they are more familiar with. They don’t prefer that treatment, but there’s a comfort in the familiar and the known, even when what’s familiar is mistreatment. Others will repeat the pattern they just completed with you – dating another person who seems to be The Best Boyfriend They Ever Had, before they eject once again.

The same goes with the toxic partners you’ve had. Some of these might be people struggling with conditions like borderline personality disorder, while others may have abusive tendencies or a desire to control their partner. All of them seek out partners with weak boundaries, who they can manage to one degree or another.

If you’re dating the same kind of person over and over again, that suggests that you’re either seeking these people out or not waving them off when they find you. I also wouldn’t be surprised if some of these women are in good overall working condition, but are frustrated by you and eventually bounce… in no small part because of your own patterns of behavior – or, more accurately, your lack of behavior.

That’s where your desire to not make a move comes into play. You, like a lot of men who struggle with dating, are trying to avoid the pain and stress of rejection… or even the possibility of rejection. This means that you’re being a passive figure in your own relationships – you aren’t seeking out potential partners and assessing whether they’d be a good match for you. You have consistently allowed these relationships to “just happen”. You don’t say it in your letter, but I’d be willing to bet that the women you date end up making the first move the lion’s share of the time.

This means that you’re selecting – sometimes inadvertently, via inaction – people who aren’t good matches for you. The women with anxiety may feel a little more comfortable making a move because of your passivity, while the toxic ones see this as a sign that you’re not likely to have strong boundaries. And the women who are a little more comfortable with making a move and being the more assertive partner get frustrated if they have to take the initiative with everything.

To be clear: I don’t think there’s anything wrong with someone else deciding to take the initiative. Nor do I feel that you – or men – need to be the dominant or leading partner in a relationship. But the problem here is that you have given up agency and discernment; you aren’t trying to decide if someone is a compatible match, if they are in a good place to date, or if they’re someone who is actively toxic. And I wouldn’t be surprised if that lack of agency also shows up in either not being an active partner or being more reactive – not advocating for yourself, not taking decisive action or otherwise letting the other person set the tone and agenda for everything. This has a tendency to frustrate women who want a more equitable relationship while also being very attractive to people who are looking for a partner they can manipulate.

The answer here is pretty obvious: you’re going to have to get over your passivity and be willing to start making actual moves. While I understand that you’re afraid of rejection, the fact of the matter is that avoidance – and looking for “obvious interest” is a form of avoidance – just makes things worse. The more you avoid the thing that you’re afraid of, the stronger that fear gets, and the avoidance simply grows. You go from avoiding the thing you’re afraid of to avoiding circumstances that might lead you to encountering the thing you’re afraid of, to avoiding anything that isn’t absolutely “safe”.

And as much as I hate to say it, the only way to get over this is to put yourself out there and get rejected. You’re going to have to be willing to make yourself vulnerable, open yourself up to the possibility of being turned down and make the first move. If you’re going to practice martial arts, you’re going to have to be comfortable with getting hit. If you’re going to ski, you have to be comfortable with the possibility of wiping out and getting injured. You can minimize or mitigate the risk or potential damage, but you can’t eliminate it entirely; accepting that risk is part of the price of participation. So it is with love. It sucks, but love is a full contact sport. You can affect the degree to which you might get hurt, but you can’t eliminate it entirely; it’s the nature of the beast. If you want to date, you have to accept the risk to get the reward.

And, to be perfectly blunt, your attempts at avoiding rejection have not only not worked, they’ve really only served to make things worse. Can you honestly say that someone saying “no” to a date is going to be worse than, oh, “one situation escalated to the point where I had to involve the police, and another put my life at risk” ?

I would suggest that no, it’s not.

I’m always saying that if you want things to be different, then you have to do things differently. That’s especially true in this case. If you want to break this pattern in your relationships, you have to break it where it starts. And in this case, it starts with you.

It’s clear that the way you’ve been going about things hasn’t been working for you. You need to ask yourself how many more failed or toxic relationships you’re willing to endure before something changes. One? Five? Ten? Are you that committed to hoping that Random Number Jesus will finally smile on you and bless you with a relationship that doesn’t implode like a billionaire’s submarine?

You’re going to have to make a point of actually putting your hand on the tiller and directing the ship yourself. You are going to have to play an active role in seeking out people you’d want to date, to vet and qualify them and decide whether they’re someone you think would be a good partner for you. This means that you’re going to get rejected, yes. Many of those will hurt, because rejection is never fun. But your fear of rejection has lead you to situations where the pain of rejection is worse than it needs to be and the relationships you have had have still lead to pain, rejection and more.

Until you do, you’re going to find yourself consistently at the mercy of fate, hoping against hope that maybe this time the pattern isn’t going to repeat and you’ll have a relationship that actually meets your needs and doesn’t turn malignant.

Good luck.

Please send your questions to Dr. NerdLove at his website (www.doctornerdlove.com/contact); or to his email, doc@doctornerdlove.com

DEAR DR. NERDLOVE: I’m hurt and I’m scared and I really need help. I’m a 29-year-old man and my girlfriend of four years just broke up with me and left me with nothing. I mean that literally. No home, no friends, not even my pride or idea of who I am as a human being. 

I’ve spent most of my life without close friends or family group – I was an only child, no extended family, my parents moved frequently for work, which meant that I never stayed in one place long enough to really make friends. Almost every time I started to make friends, we moved again. By the time I got to college, I never quite got the knack of making friends, so I had classmates and people I’d see on campus, but not people I could consider myself close to. Then I lost both my parents in rapid succession – my mother to breast cancer and my father to a car crash a few years later, leaving me completely alone until I met “Andrea”.��When Andrea and I got together, she was my whole world in part because I didn’t have one. It was through her that I felt like I finally understood things like “family” and having people around me I could count on. I fit into her friend group with an ease that surprised me, her family was warm and welcoming to me and I thought I’d found paradise. Thanks to her and her friends, I actually felt like I learned how to make real friends and build a community to be part of. We even had a dog. Well, she did; she adopted it a month before we started dating, but I felt like it was ours. 

Then after four years, my luck took another disastrous turn. I had a promising job with a small press printer, but they never fully recovered from 2020 and went bankrupt. Shortly afterwards, Andrea pulled me aside and told me that she was leaving me and it was definitely me, not her. She told me that she had been struggling with her feelings before she finally accepted that she didn’t love me and hadn’t for quite some time. She gave me a laundry list of reasons why, not the least of which being that I was more of a project than a boyfriend. She said, and I quote “I thought I could help you, but the more I tried, the more I realized I couldn’t respect you and I shouldn’t be with someone like that.” 

Just as quickly as I found a new family, I’d lost it. I moved out of our (her, technically) apartment and all my “friends” slowly quit returning my phone calls or texts. I didn’t even get to see the dog again afterwards. 

I’m a mess now. I managed to find a dead end job to cover my bills and I’ve got a place to stay, so I’m not in danger of being homeless but that’s it – no friends, no family, and feeling like I’m worthless as a person. I’ve read what everyone’s said about getting over break ups, including yours, but none of it really fits with my situation. I’ve got a therapist I see infrequently (can’t afford to go more than once a month and my insurance won’t cover it), don’t have friends to turn to, the one time I’ve slept with someone since my break up made me feel awful about myself and I don’t need another girlfriend, I need to be a different person because I’m barely one now. 

I know my problem is me and I need to work on me, but I feel like I don’t even know who “me” is anymore. How do I feel like a person? I can’t even say “again”, because Andrea managed to make me feel like I wasn’t even one in the first place? 

I Was(n’t) A Man

DEAR I WAS(N’T) A MAN: F--king hell that’s rough, IWAM.  I’m sorry that happened to you. That’s not even a one-two punch of bad luck, that’s like being stuck in the ring with Roy Jones Jr. and just getting hammered like he took a level in monk and kept spamming Flurry of Blows.

I will say this up front: Andrea did you dirty in a way that is honestly hard to believe. Breaking up with you like that wasn’t kind. Leaving you in the lurch, without a place to go was possibly unavoidable but still kinda cold. But it was the combo of “I don’t love you” and “you were a project to me” that’s so cold it could only be measured on the Kelvin scale. That was the sort of thing that, even if it was true, should’ve been taken to the grave. I’m of the general belief that while honesty is important, even when breaking up, there’re some things you don’t need to share. It wasn’t helpful, it wasn’t corrective and it wasn’t even about you. There was no excuse for it, and it sure as s--t feels like cruelty for cruelty’s sake.

In fact, that’s the first thing I think you need to take away from this: what she said and what she did was cruel and it wasn’t about you, it was about her. This wasn’t her condemning you for not being a “real man”, this was her not being able to treat you as a human. She barely treated you like she was fostering a pet, never mind a person.

This is one of the reasons why I talk about the problem with White Knight Syndrome – people aren’t projects. You don’t date someone to “refurbish” them like they’re a car or a pinball table, any more than you “save” them from whatever is afflicting them – from illness to a toxic living situation. Treating you like a “project” wasn’t about your worth as a person, it was about feeding her ego. I know it’s cold comfort now but I want you to understand this: this wasn’t you, this was entirely her damage.

So, I’m not entirely surprised that you feel like you need to be a different person. And for once, I’m going to agree with that feeling: it’s time to be someone new. Please notice very carefully that I said “new”, not “different”; this is about a clean slate, not being someone else. Right now, you have had your world burned down around you; now it’s time for you to be reborn, like new growth after a forest fire.

Fortunately, you’re a little ahead of the game, which is going to help. You’ve already accomplished the first task I was going to give you: make sure that you’re secure and safe and getting your basic needs met. There’s a reason why self-actualization is at the top of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs after all; it’s nigh-impossible to grow or thrive when you’re always on the edge of malnourishment or being tossed out on the street, starving-artist cliches be damned. So while I recommend that you stay on the lookout for a better job – yes, even in this economy – you’ve got a somewhat secure foundation to build on.

The second task I am going to give you is to discover yourself. There’s a reason why phoenixes are reborn from the ashes of their old lives; the fire has scoured away the old self and they are freed from their past. So it is with you. In your previous life, you have had little control and little agency to define and describe yourself. That’s all gone. Now is the time when you decide for yourself who you are and what that means.

Right now, you’re dealing with the remains of who you used to be – old patterns, old behaviors, old identities. These have all been built out of reactions to things that were done to you – from having to move constantly to losing your parents and so on. This is part of why you slot so easily into Andrea’s world; you molded yourself to other people simply because you had little opportunity to grow into yourself. But that’s the point of this rebirth: it’s time for you to branch out from there to discover who you are, not who other people thought you should be.

My recommendation here is to be bold and take some big swings that would be “out of character” for you. You’ve been living with definitions and limits that were foist upon you; you want to start seeing if these were actual limits or actual characteristics, or your doing your best to fit in like a chameleon. So, what are some things that you would never have dreamt of doing when you were with Andrea? What are some dreams that you’ve never had the heart to pursue or felt weren’t worth your time? What interests have you been afraid to explore?

If you’re not sure, then I would suggest starting with something basic and elemental: do you feel a desire to create and build something physical, to work with your hands? Do you have an urge to express yourself – to play music, write a story, paint a picture? Do you feel a calling to study, discern and penetrate the world around you or to get a deeper understanding of people? Do you want to explore and find adventure? Or to nest and surround yourself with community? Use that base desire as the starting point and work outward.

You might even combine desires: woodworking, blacksmithing and architecture are all as much expressions of art as they are craftsmanship. Adventure can be found in serving others in your community as it can exploring the world.

Similarly, what are things you would never have dared to allow yourself to do before now? Have you wanted to learn how to drive a motorcycle? Have you felt a calling to go back to school and get a different degree? Or maybe even starting an apprenticeship in a different field entirely. What are some things that your past self would’ve been shocked to see you pursue? This is the time to see who you would be if you gave that side of yourself a chance to finally grow. And, as a bonus, these changes will help draw a distinct line between your past and your future. 

Now, one thing I feel like I should emphasize is that, while I also think you should make a concerted effort to make new friends and find your Team You, I feel like this is one of the few times when your focus should be on discovering yourself first. Under other circumstances, I would say that you should rebuild your social circle, but right now I think you would run the risk of falling back into old patterns of trying to blend in and adapt. I think taking this time to discover yourself should be a priority instead. I think it’s more important that you establish your sense of self, so you come to these future relationships with security and confidence. It’s hard to know who’s right for you or what community is a match for you when you don’t know you.

At the same time, however, exploring these sides of you and taking these big swings will bring you into contact with others – people who share these interests and who may even be on a similar journey as you. Having these things in common will make it easier to build connections that you may choose to turn into friendships. But it will be easier to make relationships that feel secure and beneficial when you have that stronger sense of who you are and what you need, rather than relying on others to supply them.

That being said: I think some group therapy might not be a bad idea either. There are support groups out there that I think would be helpful – people who are in similar states as you, who’ve had massive losses or who have to rebuild, and knowing you’re not the only person who faces these challenges will be helpful. You might want to consider volunteering your assistance too – helping with set-up for meetings, taking on mundane organizational tasks and so on. Feeling like you’re contributing can help you feel like you’re doing more than just existing or taking up space.

The final assignment I have for you is going to be the hardest: you need to forgive yourself. I know I just said that this wasn’t your fault, and it’s not. But that doesn’t mean you’re not carrying around the guilt and blame, and it’s not eating away at you. Forgive yourself for, as Sinatra once sang “loving not wisely, no not wisely but too well”. Forgive yourself for living as best you could under the circumstances, even if it meant that you ended up here. That’s a part of the rebirth as well; you’re letting go of the past and not being held back by the supposed “sins” of your former life.

This will be hard, I know, but you’ve got the strength and the resilience. You’ve been through hell and came out the other side. You can do this. You’ll be ok. I promise.

All will be well.

Please send your questions to Dr. NerdLove at his website (www.doctornerdlove.com/contact); or to his email, doc@doctornerdlove.com

DEAR DR. NERDLOVE: I’m a 28-year-old woman and I’ve been in a polyamorous relationship with a man for about a year, and lately, I’m feeling more and more left out. My partner, “Nate,” is married, and his wife, “Sophie,” who also has a partner of her own, has known about and consented to our relationship from the beginning. I’ve had relationships where my partners and I weren’t exclusive before, but this is the first time I’ve had an actual emotional connection with someone who is romantically engaged with other people too.

At first, things felt open and honest. We’d all talk together, make sure everyone’s boundaries were respected, and check in about feelings. I’ve spent time with them together, stayed over at Nate’s when Sophie was out of town (with her knowledge and permission) and even spent time with Sophie one on one. I knew going in that Nate and Sophie were going to have history and live together and that would affect things, and that I was new to polyamory, so there would be growing pains. But over the past few months, it’s like I’ve become a side note in their lives. Plans get canceled at the last minute because something “came up” between them. When we’re together, he often talks about their shared routines or mentions inside jokes that he forgets I wasn’t part of, and I end up feeling like an outsider tagging along. I’ve tried to talk to him about it, but he insists everything is fine and that I’m “reading too much into it.” Sophie has been sympathetic, but I still feel like it’s sympathy for someone who doesn’t understand, rather than her being supportive. 

I understand that his marriage will always come first to some extent — we talked about this going in, and that’s part of the structure we agreed on. But I can’t tell if what I’m feeling is just part of the natural imbalance in this kind of relationship, or if it’s a sign that I’m not being valued the way I should be.

Is it normal to feel this excluded in a poly relationship where one partner is married? And if it’s not, how do I even begin to address it without sounding jealous or demanding?

Signed, Feeling Like the Third Wheel

DEAR FEELING LIKE A THIRD WHEEL: This is a case of “the question you’re asking isn’t the question you think you’re asking”, and I think there’s an important one you’re not asking.

Let me start with something fairly obvious: there’s a lot of discourse about polyamory and the various forms it takes and how to manage it. There are folks who will insist that married people “can’t” be truly poly because of the inherent hierarchy, while other people will insist that “relationship anarchy” is unrealistic and unfeasible simply because you can’t expect every relationship to be equal when one is brand new and another has years of shared history, shared responsibilities and financial and social entanglements. There are folks who think kitchen-table poly (as in: everyone in the polycule lives together in a communal or shared space) is The Way while others think it’s better for everyone to have their own separate place. Get five poly people in a room and you’ll have six opinions on polyamory and all of them will conflict with the others in some fashion.

I mention this, simply to point out that there are many, many ways to have a polyamorous relationship, and the ins-and-outs of all of them will vary to one degree or another. This is important because it ties into the question you’re not asking.

So, to answer the question you think you’re asking: it’s not uncommon to feel like you’re being excluded. That doesn’t mean that it’s normal. Feeling excluded the way that you do isn’t inherent to the sort of relationship you have, but it does happen, because people are messy and concurrent relationships can be complicated and difficult to manage smoothly.

A couple who has been together for a period of time is, inevitably, going to have routines, habits, experiences, memories and inside jokes and things that, due to the linear nature of time, you will not have been part of. That necessarily doesn’t mean you’re being excluded; it just means that you weren’t there at the time when these were being formed.

Feeling excluded, however, is often a sign that there’s an imbalance somewhere. It’s one thing to not to get an inside joke. It’s another if you feel like you don’t have similar shared moments with your partner or partners.

Similarly, a couple who has been together is going to have shared responsibilities and responsibilities to one another that pre-date new partners, and the weight of that history may mean that – all things being equal – those take priority. That, however, is different from feeling like responsibilities to or with you always come second. Relationships �– whether monogamous or not – are a balancing act. While it may never be perfectly equitable, it should feel that things are roughly equal.

And it seems that for you, it doesn’t. This is why “is this normal” is the wrong question; you’re asking if you’re being unreasonable for feeling this way. And frankly, I don’t think you are. I think it may be worth your time to document things and see if this is a “feels like” vs. “objectively is” situation, but the fact that it is bothering you suggests that there may be a need going unmet here. It may be that you feel like you’re a secondary consideration, or that you and Nate haven’t had enough meaningful time to create those routines and jokes. It may mean that you feel like he’s not showing you the same level of love or consideration that he shows Sophie. Taking some time to dig into this might give you some answers, which will help shape how you should approach it.

I do think it’s fair to tell Nate that you feel like things are out of balance and that it feels as though Sophie is the default choice and you’re the secondary consideration. I’m also not thrilled that he’s told you that you’re “reading too much into it”. This might well be inartful phrasing, where he meant to say that he doesn’t consider you to be secondary or mean to make you feel excluded, but said it poorly. But I’m not necessarily inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt. You know him better than I do, so you would have to be the one to make that call.

However, I think the question you should be asking is “does this relationship model in general and this relationship specifically work for me?” That, I think, cuts a little closer to the real problem. I suspect that the biggest issue here is that this is your first poly relationship and you’re entering into it as the newcomer in a relationship that’s got years of history behind it already. That can have the effect of making you feel like a junior partner, rather than someone roughly equal… or at least, where equal importance feels achievable.

I suspect that if you weren’t dating someone who is sharing the lion’s share of his life – not just his emotional connection, but his physical presence and living space – with another person, you wouldn’t feel the same way. You came into this with the understanding that he was married and lived with his spouse, but that isn’t necessarily the same as having the experience to know how that would make you feel or whether it’s the kind of relationship you ultimately want.

I think another question that you should ask is why you chose this relationship – that is, what your motivation was for agreeing to this. Obviously, you care for Nate, and you feel that it’s possible to have romantic connections to more than one person at a time. But did you agree to this relationship because it was the only way you could have a relationship with him, specifically? If that’s the case… I wonder if maybe the problem is the relationship, rather than the relationship model.

I’ve seen people enter relationships where they were – as Dan Savage terms it – “poly under duress”, and that can be a difficult place to be in. Feeling like the only way to be with someone you care about is to accept feeling as though you’re only able to have some of their time or company is rough, and it can do a real number on your self-esteem. Making yourself miserable for what feels like scraps of attention is no way to live, even if you love the person. The feeling of only being given secondary consideration at best by someone you love, and feeling like someone else is their primary concern is a lot like being stabbed with tiny knives. The pain each of them causes individually may not be significant, but it compounds quickly and can become unbearable before you realize it.

So, I think before you talk to Nate, it will be worth your time to sit down and really think about this relationship. Is this relationship meeting your needs? Is this relationship model – dating a man with a live-in spouse – one that works for you and lets you feel loved and accepted? If the answer is “yes”, then I think having an Awkward Conversation, where you lay out how you feel a more balanced relationship would look, is the right move.

But if the answer is “no” to the either of those questions, then I think it may be time to classify this relationship as a learning experience, and one that may have been right for you when you started, but isn’t right for who you are now.

Good luck.  

Please send your questions to Dr. NerdLove at his website (www.doctornerdlove.com/contact); or to his email, doc@doctornerdlove.com