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How do we become ambigamists?
Perhaps some variation on this scenario: By the time you got to high school, you were eager for love. After a little striving you found it.
And it was good. So good you said to your amazing magical perfect angel partner, “Wow. This is just like in the songs. I’ll take all you’ve got.”
And you gave all you had as well. Headfirst you dove in, and for a while it worked.
But then the waters got a little rough and murky. Moments of restlessness, claustrophobia, boredom, frustration—though you were fused forever, at times you felt more like strangers.
At least one of you started to cool. Maybe your partner stung you, casually declaring it over. One way or another, you broke up. You regretted having given and taken everything. But maybe it was just that you picked the wrong partner, thinking this was the angel when actually your angel was someone else. So next time you’ll pick right.
But next time and the times after led you to the disappointing conclusion that it’s not just a question of finding your angel. It’s about relationship itself. You start feeling mixed about the whole partnership venture. On one hand, the romantic in you believes in it and can’t help seeking, if not an angel, at least someone somewhat angel-like. On the other, you no longer believe in giving your all and taking their all. No matter how good the chemistry, you need some space. It used to be all green lights. Now you’re some kind of potentially confusing sequence of red and green lights. Especially because, a little older, the potential partners feel the same way. You’re no longer seeing as many pure green lights.
In my early forties, a partner once called me to task for loving half-heartedly. She used a hand signal to demonstrate what I was doing that frustrated her so much. Holding one hand up, palm forward, she signaled stop. Holding the other out she beckoned.
“Come hither . . . no don’t.”
She was right. I was giving mixed signals, in part out of guilt. I would pretend I could be more giving than I was. She soon found a partner who gave more and is much better off.
That hand gesture stuck, and ever since it has symbolized ambigamy for me. It, and its counterpart: one hand outstretched offering and the other holding something close to the chest.
Ambigamists give, but not all. They take, but not all. It’s enough to drive a pure romantic nuts.
Never mind romantics, it’s enough to drive ambigamists nuts too, if you partner with one who happens to want more, or less, or different from what you want.
Ambigamists open a can of worms. Questions crawl out that aren’t on the table for romantics. Questions like how much love, and when, and what kind and how will I know?
True ambigamist love is harder work than true romantic love. Romantic love is mutual green lights. “Bring it on, baby. What you’ve got I want, and what I’ve got is yours.” It’s easy to read those traffic signals. Too bad we ambigamists are incapable of pulling it off for long.
We’ve got shifting lights to deal with. It’s “Bring it on (for now) baby; I’m in the mood”—and it turns out she’s not. Or vice versa. Fits and starts; red light, green light.
And even yellow lights:
She: Are you in the mood to hang out?
He: Mmmmm . . . maybe. Sure. I don’t know. I was just about to do something else.
In love, safety counts. No one wants to be snubbed. If you’re rebuffed often enough, you get the message that you’re not safe and you pull back.
But in ambigamy, the lights keep changing. You will sometimes reach out when your partner is holding back.
Here are a few tips for making it easier to withstand the green-light-red-light complexity of ambigamist partnerships.
1. If you’re an ambigamist, partner with another ambigamist: You’ll be disappointing to and disappointed by a pure romantic.
2. Try not to take it personally unless it is: If your partner’s not available tonight, that doesn’t automatically mean you’re unloved or unlovable, or that your partner is callous. If you’re an ambigamist you can relate to a red light. You know that a love contract is a contract to play some red-light-green-light. Of course it could in fact be a sign that your partner is losing interest. Just don’t jump to that conclusion or you’ll stir and muddy the waters.
3. Give (and receive) the gift of accommodation: You may be disappointed that your partner doesn’t want to hang out when you do, but if you’re really an ambigamist you can appreciate and relate to your partner’s inclination. If your partner reciprocates, accommodating you when you’ve got other things to do, then you’re both lovingly attending to each other’s general preferences even when you’re not attending to each other.
4. Get a life: Match preoccupations with your partner. If someone has a hobby that takes them away from you, don’t make a moral issue out of their absence and pretend the UN Charter on Lover’s Rights grants you dominion over their time. Instead, find a hobby that takes you away some too. Not in retaliation (“fine, then I’ll show you . . . ”) but rather so you can balance better.
5. Send clear signals: Yes, yellow lights happen—but still try to be clear with your partner. Develop a plain system for saying red, yellow, or green light to each other in ways that are neither too blunt nor too apologetic. Either extreme can add insult to absence.
Perhaps some variation on this scenario: By the time you got to high school, you were eager for love. After a little striving you found it.
And it was good. So good you said to your amazing magical perfect angel partner, “Wow. This is just like in the songs. I’ll take all you’ve got.”
And you gave all you had as well. Headfirst you dove in, and for a while it worked.
But then the waters got a little rough and murky. Moments of restlessness, claustrophobia, boredom, frustration—though you were fused forever, at times you felt more like strangers.
At least one of you started to cool. Maybe your partner stung you, casually declaring it over. One way or another, you broke up. You regretted having given and taken everything. But maybe it was just that you picked the wrong partner, thinking this was the angel when actually your angel was someone else. So next time you’ll pick right.
But next time and the times after led you to the disappointing conclusion that it’s not just a question of finding your angel. It’s about relationship itself. You start feeling mixed about the whole partnership venture. On one hand, the romantic in you believes in it and can’t help seeking, if not an angel, at least someone somewhat angel-like. On the other, you no longer believe in giving your all and taking their all. No matter how good the chemistry, you need some space. It used to be all green lights. Now you’re some kind of potentially confusing sequence of red and green lights. Especially because, a little older, the potential partners feel the same way. You’re no longer seeing as many pure green lights.
In my early forties, a partner once called me to task for loving half-heartedly. She used a hand signal to demonstrate what I was doing that frustrated her so much. Holding one hand up, palm forward, she signaled stop. Holding the other out she beckoned.
“Come hither . . . no don’t.”
She was right. I was giving mixed signals, in part out of guilt. I would pretend I could be more giving than I was. She soon found a partner who gave more and is much better off.
That hand gesture stuck, and ever since it has symbolized ambigamy for me. It, and its counterpart: one hand outstretched offering and the other holding something close to the chest.
Ambigamists give, but not all. They take, but not all. It’s enough to drive a pure romantic nuts.
Never mind romantics, it’s enough to drive ambigamists nuts too, if you partner with one who happens to want more, or less, or different from what you want.
Ambigamists open a can of worms. Questions crawl out that aren’t on the table for romantics. Questions like how much love, and when, and what kind and how will I know?
True ambigamist love is harder work than true romantic love. Romantic love is mutual green lights. “Bring it on, baby. What you’ve got I want, and what I’ve got is yours.” It’s easy to read those traffic signals. Too bad we ambigamists are incapable of pulling it off for long.
We’ve got shifting lights to deal with. It’s “Bring it on (for now) baby; I’m in the mood”—and it turns out she’s not. Or vice versa. Fits and starts; red light, green light.
And even yellow lights:
She: Are you in the mood to hang out?
He: Mmmmm . . . maybe. Sure. I don’t know. I was just about to do something else.
In love, safety counts. No one wants to be snubbed. If you’re rebuffed often enough, you get the message that you’re not safe and you pull back.
But in ambigamy, the lights keep changing. You will sometimes reach out when your partner is holding back.
Here are a few tips for making it easier to withstand the green-light-red-light complexity of ambigamist partnerships.
1. If you’re an ambigamist, partner with another ambigamist: You’ll be disappointing to and disappointed by a pure romantic.
2. Try not to take it personally unless it is: If your partner’s not available tonight, that doesn’t automatically mean you’re unloved or unlovable, or that your partner is callous. If you’re an ambigamist you can relate to a red light. You know that a love contract is a contract to play some red-light-green-light. Of course it could in fact be a sign that your partner is losing interest. Just don’t jump to that conclusion or you’ll stir and muddy the waters.
3. Give (and receive) the gift of accommodation: You may be disappointed that your partner doesn’t want to hang out when you do, but if you’re really an ambigamist you can appreciate and relate to your partner’s inclination. If your partner reciprocates, accommodating you when you’ve got other things to do, then you’re both lovingly attending to each other’s general preferences even when you’re not attending to each other.
4. Get a life: Match preoccupations with your partner. If someone has a hobby that takes them away from you, don’t make a moral issue out of their absence and pretend the UN Charter on Lover’s Rights grants you dominion over their time. Instead, find a hobby that takes you away some too. Not in retaliation (“fine, then I’ll show you . . . ”) but rather so you can balance better.
5. Send clear signals: Yes, yellow lights happen—but still try to be clear with your partner. Develop a plain system for saying red, yellow, or green light to each other in ways that are neither too blunt nor too apologetic. Either extreme can add insult to absence.
