Okay. Others have left their stories in the comments and tags, and it made me realize I should share my own to really illuminate what "something feels wrong about" monogamy often means.
@widdershyn-panda went through this
My first relationship, I ended things despite being happy with the person, because I got feelings for someone else, and was convinced that meant I was falling out of love with my partner because why else could I fall in love with someone else? I felt like a horrible person, broke up with my partner to let them find someone "better".
For me, it looked like this.
In my teenage years, I at one point had 3οΈβ£ simultaneous crushes, and a couple other people I would have said yes to dating if they asked. I told my best friend about two of them (because my best friend was the third) and they joked I sounded like [popular YA romance novel at the time]. I laughed, because it was true. I was all the more determined to NEVER let my best friend know I was crushing on them, because in that novel, the two love interests discuss how bad it makes them feel the protagonist can't make up her mind, and I would never do that to my friend. I did not date anyone until I went to university.
My first relationship was only 6 months for unrelated reasons. This is not long enough that I got the poly itch, personally.
My second relationship, I was embarrassingly in love, and I overlooked a lot of red flags for longer than I care to admit... but so did they. It last 3 years, and after the first, even though I was head over heels, I started to feel trapped. I got more pushy about threesomes than I should have, just to have an outlet, a ray of hope for the fact I was attracted to both my friends and theirs. If it was a threesome, if that's all I wanted, I wasn't wanting to cheat, you see. I got the opportunity to move hundreds of miles/over a thousand km away, but didn't think it'd be worth it. My partner then said they would allow an open relationship if we went long distance, and this idea was so appealing to me I started making plans. When we discussed it in more detail, they said I'd only be allowed to fuck someone else if it had been over 3 months since we'd seen each other. I knew my partner would make the trip more often than three months, because there was a convenient rail line. It went from being a dream scenario of getting to have my cake and eat it too, to me getting laid 4-6 times a year. I did not move. I never got a threesome. When we broke up later, for unrelated reasons, I felt relief.
The next relationship, I told them from the outset I "wasn't strictly monogamous" and said since I'd never had sex with someone of my same gender, it was really important to me I get to try that, if the opportunity arose, though I wouldnt seek it out. They agreed, though it was clearly not a great thing for them. A year later I was complaining to my best friend they were shutting down those conversations very quickly. I finally admitted to myself I wasn't just "not very invested in monogamy", I was polyamorous. I didn't just like the idea of dating around, I would never be satisfied without it. I cried alone in the dark because I didn't know anyone I felt safe confessing this to. I did my best to shove that thought to the back of the drawer and forget about it, but I lost sleep more nights than one, staring at the ceiling next to the person I loved, thinking how I was such a monster for wanting something that I knew would hurt them so much. . . When I finally broke, three years into the relationship, and begged my partner to let me have something with anyone else, they had a full-on, rocking-back-and-forth mental breakdown. But they agreed. We set up strict rules. Sex only, no feelings, no more than 3 times with the same person, I had to shower before I got home so they wouldn't smell the sex on me, I don't even remember what else. My partner kept having mental breakdowns. I told myself the breakdown they would have if I left would be worse (which was true by a lot), but anytime I got a text, their mood changed instantly. It made us both paranoid. I was having mental breakdowns, too. I didn't know what else to do. I gave a lot of thought to how much simpler it would be if I was dead. I got fired from my job because I couldn't think about anything else but how what I wanted would clearly never be possible. How even a compromise would clearly never fucking be possible. I was only able to admit I wasn't doing my partner any favors by sticking around when I found them in our bathroom trying to chug a bottle of pills. Their hands were shaking so bad they could hardly get any in their mouth. They were trying to speak, but I couldn't make out a single word. I held them, huddled on the floor, freezing and scared to leave them even long enough to call an ambulance, for about 40 minutes, before they calmed down enough I could get them to move to the couch.
Does that sound like something I would choose?
You want to know the number of times I've cried about being bisexual? Its zero. You want to know the amount of time it took me to come to terms with being bisexual? About 20 seconds. I outed myself as bi to my friend within the week. When I was 17 my sister asked me if I liked the same gender and I said "I don't know" (untrue, I did know, I just didn't want her knowing) and my mother defended me when I was pressed on the issue. That's the single worst experience I've had about being bi, one family member making me squirm and another one immediately stepping in. Sometimes there will be a Christian on a corner preaching that homosexuality is a sin. That's as bad as its gotten for me. I am now out as bisexual to everyone I know. Only my closest friends know I'm polyam. I've heard, in public spheres and from friends I'm not out to, how polyamory makes me a whore, a playa, a cheater looking for excuses, an uggo trying to prop up my self esteem, everyone's side piece not worth committing to. I've gotten anon hate telling me to kill myself for nothing more than being an out poly person. I stress over legal protections and buying a house with my loves not because of their gender, but because I don't have just one. I'm queer because I'm bi, why wouldn't I be queer for being poly?
Like, stars above, do we not fucking remember when being gay was euphemized as a "lifestyle choice"? Being gay and being trans "not being a choice" was not an innate understanding. It was a campaign to the general public to make it more sympathetic to the straights. So "Its a choice" means fuck-all to me for determining if something is queer, anyway.
