He was a mediator working with the New Mexico Children, Youth and Families Department. She was a substitute teacher. And the other guy worked at the post office. They all lived together in a house in Silver City with their children. In the mornings, the teacher would kiss the postal worker goodbye as he went off to work. In the evenings, if she was back from teaching, she'd send the mediator off with kiss. They were enjoying life in a polyamorous triad, a romantic relationship between three people.
The three would walk through the park holding hands and go to restaurants drinking, talking and groping each other a little bit.
"People watching us were like, 'OK.' They could see we were comfortable," says Steve Schleusener, the former mediator now in Santa Fe. "If you're comfortable with yourself and your lifestyle, way more people are going to be comfortable with you and your lifestyle than if you walk around all the time hiding out. Then people view you with suspicion because it always looks like you're doing something wrong."
Schleusener is one of a handful of polyamorous people in Santa Fe.
Mim Chapman, author of What Does Polyamory Look Like? and founder of Santa Fe's only poly group, defines polyamory as "the belief that one can openly, honestly, respectfully and mutually decide to love more than one person at the same time."
The number of poly folk anywhere is hard to pin down. University of Michigan researchers found that 4 to 5 percent of the population of heterosexual US adults practice consensual nonmonogamy (excluding those who identify as gay, lesbian and bisexual), and many polys remain in the closet out of stigma.
As for the Santa Fe population, Chapman says, "I just really couldn't even begin to tell you anything in the way of numbers."
When Chapman started Santa Fe Poly a decade ago, there were few local outlets for polyamorous people to connect with each other. She inititally held monthly potlucks at her house, where as many as 50 people would show up to hot tub and drink wine and talk. Many came from Albuquerque, and some showed up because they were questioning or just wanted to ogle.
After seven-and-a-half years, the group started gathering at less-comfortable meeting rooms when Chapman started traveling a lot. While the Albuquerque club became more popular, at times Chapman would be sitting in a room with the same two people who came every month.
Schleusener, now a network and IT consultant, was one of them.
"I was frankly kind of getting tired of it. We'd get the one-timers, the polycurious, you know, [or] people were active in poly but not really interested in being in a discussion group," he says. "When nobody else is showing up, we've got nothing to talk about because we all know each other's stories. 'Anything new in your life?' 'Nope.' 'Nope.' I guess we're out of here."
He eventually started golfing on Saturday nights instead.
The potlucks discontinued after the group's December meeting. The group still has a Meetup.com page sponsored by national nonprofit Loving More, and optimists can watch the site for any newly scheduled events.
"That was was one of the missions of the poly group, you know, to help people understand this is not polyfuckery, this is polyamory," says Schleusener.
Like many, he laments polys are often pigeonholed as unethically promiscuous, which discourages them from being open about their relationships.
"It's about love, it's about respect, it's about communication, honoring your partner or your partners," he says. "And I think I said honesty, so I'll say honesty again."
And contrary to some assumptions, polyamory doesn't need to involve sex. Chapman remembers a long-term relationship with a couple where she was "sensuous but not sexual" with the other woman.
"[Polyamory] can be and is sexual," Chapman explains, "[but] my quest for poly has always been finding a collaborative, loving, dedicated family."
Chapman's first relationship was poly, long before the term emerged in the '90s. When communes were springing up and people were reading books like Stranger in a Strange Land, she and her husband decided they didn't want to raise children until they could find another couple to do it with. Both careerists, they also wanted to get their PhDs first (Chapman has a doctorate in educational leadership and two master's in education and counseling). Sadly, Chapman's spouse died shortly after earning his degree.
Schleusener, however, realized that monogamy didn't work for him when he married in his late teens. "I'm afraid I didn't always honor my wedding vows," he says. "And neither did the people I was with."
Another marriage and numerous serious relationships later, including his Silver City triad, he's better for it.
Chapman sums it up best.
"[Polyamory's] a valid option for people who deal well with complexity, who like communication and depth and feedback from a number of loving individuals. I would love it to be an option for everyone; I would never wish it to be something everyone should try," Chapman says. "I really hope that at some point it'll be accepted."
Santa Fe Reporter