-Feelin shitty -Lookin pretty

My wife went on a cute date this week with a partner she hasn't gotten to connect with recently and they both brought each other flowers. My boyfriend is completely overcome and being a useless lesbian (their words) about a cute enby who has been flirting with them via text for months but is finally in town this week.

When I have done educational work around non-monogamy a question I get a lot is basically how I cope with the overwhelming terrible feelings associated with imagining my partner having sex with other people. I struggle to answer this question because I do not have overwhelming terrible feelings when I imagine my partner having sex with other people but also I do not choose to imagine this very often. I do not have either curiosity or horror about this topic. Mostly I feel that it is generally not my business.

Most often when people say "I couldn't do that!" my answer is then you shouldn't. If you are not interested in non-monogamy you shouldn't do it. I love that my wife and her partner gave each other flowers and I love that my boyfriend is a useless lesbian. I think this is adorable. I'm having my coffee and feel warm inside because it reminds me how in love I am with both of these sweet humans. But there are many people who do not have this response and are still attracted to non-monogamy, and "just have the correct, enlightened feelings" is a shitty and too-common answer.

Another answer to this question is that I most often relate to my partners' other relationships from the stance of being their friend, rather than their lover. When my wife tells me she's in a dry spell with another partner, I am concerned because I want my friend to have a healthy and satisfying relationship, and when she tells me the dry spell is over I am excited because I want my friend to have a healthy and satisfying relationship. I do not think about what that means mechanically in the same way I also do not imagine in detail any other friend having sex.

Another answer to this question is that I think of my relationships as existing within an ecological space in which all relationships affect one another. My girlfriend's other relationships being in a good place means that our entire relational ecosystem is healthier. Her being in conflict with someone, whether it's a partner or her mom, introduces conflict into the ecosystem, so I have an interest in supporting her other relationships being healthy. Her peace and security and satisfaction are my peace and security and satisfaction. If that comes from her getting railed by some dude on Grindr, her need is my need.

Another answer to this question is that I am extremely comfortable with my own jealousy and can let it arise and pass without leaving a mess. I am not afraid of jealousy or anger or other big feelings and can acknowledge them to myself and to partners without a sense of terror or obligation or shame. I will note, good management of big feelings does not make these feelings smaller or more pleasant. I feel like I have done a good job managing a big feeling when I react in a way that does not generate a new, avoidable second problem.

Another answer to this question is that I understand jealousy as pointing to an unmet need that I have and I can generally address that unmet need without reference to the other relationship and usually without conflict. If I'm jealous that my partner is seeking casual hookups rather than having sex with me, I'm actually upset that we aren't having more sex--that ultimately has nothing to do with whether she is also cruising on the apps. I can address that by saying "I'd like us to have more sex" and then if she's amenable to that, doing things that make space for us to have more sex, like being more flirtatious and scheduling dates in ways that increase the potential for sexual connection. Reframing jealousy as actionable desire reduces resentment dramatically (this is also something I'm working on generally--what if desire is not painful deprivation but in fact the first ingredient to basically all pleasure???).

Sometimes it's not actionable. Sometimes my partner is having sex with someone else and does not wish to have sex with me. Sometimes my partner is publicly attached to another partner but unwilling to be public with me because they are not out to their parents yet. Sometimes my partner is moving in with their other sweetie and would not wish to live with me. Sometimes my partner is married to someone else and would not marry me even if it were legal or they would, but it's not. And in that situation I most often privately validate that there is grief about not having sex or domesticity or validation that I want, and I decide whether the relationship overall is something I want given that it has that feeling in it. I am clear with myself about which unmet needs I am willing to leave permanently unmet in a given relationship and overall, and I hold the responsibility for that decision, which allows me to relate to each partner on the level of what they are actually offering, without resentment. If I do not want what they are offering, I leave.

Another answer to this question is that I struggled a lot more with jealousy and resentment when I dated people who treated me like shit, and when I hated myself and felt like I was worthless. Now that I am in the habit of forming secure, trusting relationships with people who treat me with respect, difficult jealousy just doesn't come up very often. A lot of what drove my unpleasant reactions in earlier relationships was that I genuinely could not rely on my partners to be honest or kind. Now that I can, it's easier to relax.

Another answer to this question is I have worked pretty hard to base my sense of self worth on something other than being sexually desired by others and to construct relational spaces where everyone feels like they can assert their genuine needs, even when it means not connecting intimately. When I felt like my entire worth as a person was whether I was fuckable (to everyone at all times), sexual or romantic rejection felt like being totally worthless as a person and a dry spell was catastrophic to my well-being. So did anyone's interest in not-me, because why aren't they interested in me? Now I am able to accept someone declining sex or rescheduling a date or not wanting to date me at all or wanting someone who isn't me without it feeling like a total judgment of who I am as a person.

Another answer to this question is that there are times when jealousy clouds issues in ways that make it difficult to judge what to do, especially in the case of abuse within the relational ecosystem. Controlling relationships seem to generate more jealousy than healthy ones--jealousy can justify isolation tactics, and isolation can generate jealousy. But subjectively it's hard to distinguish "I feel jealous about the time you're spending with this person" from "this person is intentionally undermining your relationship with others, and I happen to be one of those people." The best answer I have for this is that I try to cultivate relational spaces where jealousy and fear and unmet needs can get discussed without generating blame or obligation, and where there's a high level of trust that a person is raising issues honestly and not to manipulate. But honestly, when there's an abusive relationship in the ecosystem, it fucks everything up for a while, and there's probably no way to respond that makes that not happen.

(HMU 4 illustration / Animation g1gs)

"A planned community in Arizona has used time-honored Mediterranean strategies to keep temperatures down and attitudes high.

Western civilization has grown remarkably climate conscious over the last 20 years, but not when it comes to building, civic planning, and especially zoning. Perhaps the interiors of buildings are becoming more climate adapted, and in some cases the facades as well, but in a way that’s a little like inventing a freezer designed to keep ice cream frozen while sitting next to a fire.

Wooden or concrete boxes arranged side-by-side across leveled ground with sprawling, largely treeless gardens and concrete sidewalks alongside wide, blacktop roads is simply a culture of construction that has to be abandoned if living in a world of 2°C or higher annual temperatures [or, hopefully, less than that, but nonetheless likely over 1.5°C] is to be tolerable.

Fortunately for Arizonans, change may have finally arrived in the form of a carless, planned community that looks and feels like a Greek island village.

In the Phoenix suburb of Tempe, Culdesac has arisen as a 17-acre mixed-use neighborhood from the ground up to stay cool and local, taking the concept of the 15-minute city, where anything a resident might need is only 15 minutes away, and putting a Mediterranean spin on it.

Buildings are tall, thick, and totally white. The residential areas look like they were built atop of the ashes of the Phoenix zoning code burnt in effigy. Crammed together, they create narrow streets and alleys that are almost constantly shaded, through which wind is channeled and accelerated in passing.

Windows open towards each other, allowing wind that enters one building to exit into another, while the total lack of asphalt means that the ground temperatures are a staggering 50-60°F lower than pavements beyond the limits of Culdesac.

No privately-owned cars are allowed to enter the neighborhood, in which electric bikes, robotic mini taxis, and light rail shuttle people around town, to downtown Phoenix, or out to the airport.

The street life is lively—there are no cars to bisect movement between the 21 different businesses and eateries, among which is a James Beard Award-winning Mexican restaurant, DIY ceramic business, and some stores run out of apartments—a big no-no under Phoenix zoning laws.

“Once you pull the cars out,” Architect Daniel Parolek who designed Culdesac, told BBC, “there’s so much more opportunity to make a vibrant, thriving community.”

His inspiration was sun-soaked locales like Italy, Greece, and Croatia, where town centers were designed before the automobile and before air conditioning.

Technically speaking, the entire Culdesac neighborhood is one apartment complex, but the paseos, or little alleyways, open up into plazas of open space exactly liked one would expect in a little village in the Cyclades.

Because no one has to jump in a car to get from place to place, people run into each other, sparking conversations, relations, and breaking through the counterintuitive phenomenon of big city loneliness, which in Phoenix hits particularly hard.

“Culdesac Tempe has shown that people do want to live car-free in the US, even in a metro area like Phoenix that’s often seen as the poster child for car dependency,” says Erin Boyd, Culdesac’s government relations and external affairs lead. “This success has shifted the conversation around what’s possible in American development.”