Ever since the COVID-19 crisis started I’ve felt like a polyamory imposter. I’ve been non-monogamous for over a decade, partly due to the high sex drive I’ve had since I was in high school. But as soon as things turned ugly towards the beginning of March, sex and relationships rapidly found their way to the bottle of the priority pile. I currently cohabitate with two male partners and one of my female metamours, and the metamour and I feel similarly while our two partners almost seem to be responding to the crisis with a hyper-sexuality. Between oscillating depression, anxiety and fear about the future, I find myself still craving closeness, but platonically so. Is this permanent? Is anyone else out there feeling like this? Is it wrong of me to continue to identify as polyamorous while I honestly couldn’t care less about physical intimacy with anyone?

You are definitely not alone, reader.

Regardless of what relationship structure they’re currently engaged in, individuals tend to respond very differently to feelings of fear, uncertainty, anxiety and depression (emotions that most of us are deeply familiar with by now). Some people find their libidos raging high and seek out frequent sexual connections to act as a distraction, a comfort, or both. Sometimes difficult emotions can cause tension in our bodies and we find ourselves craving the energy output that being intimate can provide. This is all perfectly understandable; “normal”, even. 

In Alexandra Ossola & Natasha Frost’s article “How Coronavirus is Changing Your Sex Life”, the two women emphasize that increased libidos have been previously documented in conjunction with traumatic life events. “For some people, when anxiety and stress goes up, their libido kicks up, with sex serving as a coping mechanism. This is the phenomenon dubbed the ‘apocalyptic hornies’ by Men’s Health, perhaps contributing to a 17.8% increase in US site traffic to PornHub on March 24, compared to an average day.”On the flip side, suddenly finding ourselves in a world turned upside down -- where simply turning on the news can elicit a trauma response -- is just as likely to make us feel like anything but sexy. Many of us are continuously rolling through stages of grief and destabilization at a continuous intensity we haven’t yet dealt with before.

As Ossola and Frost highlight, Twitter users “lamented that ‘general panic and despair’ had led to the sudden disappearance of their libido...Others described feeling ‘unappealing’ or wanting to cuddle and eat snacks instead. In a poll of just over 9,000 people from NBC News, 24% said the coronavirus outbreak had positively affected their sex lives (28% were neutral and 47% said it had affected them negatively).”

I myself have felt completely disconnected from my sexuality ever since the beginning of March. As soon as I realized just how seriously my life -- and my finances -- were about to be impacted by COVID-19, my brain went into survival-panic overdrive. I immediately deprioritized everything having to do with my sex life, my relationship(s), even my masturbation practice in favor of devoting every waking minute to conceptualizing new digital forms of revenue. It was only after several weeks of laborious grinding that I was able to begin to relax enough to invite intimacy back into my life (and even then, I’m nowhere near as thirsty as I once was!).

So, what can we do about it?

1. Maybe nothing? I’m serious. I want you to sit down alone in a quiet room and ask yourself, “Is it ME who is unsettled by the change in my libido, or am I internalizing [subtle or overt] pressure from my partners?” You don’t mention exactly how your two partners feel about your libido shift; whether they’re supportive and invested in taking care of their own sexual needs, or whether they’re putting the weight of their sudden hypersexuality on you. If it’s the latter then it’s your partners’ attitudes that need to change, not yours’.
   

2. Embrace the “6th Love Language”. Many of us, particularly in the non-monogamous community, are familiar with Gary Chapman's “5 Love Languages” (quality time, acts of service, gifts, words of affirmation and physical touch). These “languages” are meant to describe the ways in which we prefer to care for others as well as the ways in which we wish others to care for us. In a recent article by Jessica Wildfire, the author posits a 6th Love Language: the Importance of Distance. Whether or not we see distance as a true “language”, there is something to be said for the need for solitude. 
   
   Particularly in COVID-19 situations where we find ourselves suddenly quarantining with 1+ people, it’s critical to sit every member of the household down for an intentional discussion around personal boundaries and the prioritization of individual space. Self sufficiency and patience are two very attractive qualities in a partner. Your partners should possess the capability to not internalize a request for space (or a lowered libido) to indicate something negative/lacking about them/your relationships with them.
   

3. Piggy-backing off that last point, make sure that when you’re asking for space you clearly and compassionately explain WHY you’re doing so; same thing for a supportive partner GIVING you space. Even if it seems redundant after a while, it’ll lessen feelings of rejection -- and provide a consistent kind of reassurance.
   

4. Remind yourself that this is temporary. Just HOW temporary we’re not yet sure of, but this stage of life will pass nonetheless. Coronavirus aside, your lack of libido may also be the result of seeing your partners TOO much. Even if you were all living together previously, I guarantee that you and your partners (and metamour) had frequent professional and social reasons taking you each away from home. Seeing a partner ALL the time may dampen your desire for them -- not even cohabitating partners plan on being around each other 24/7! Be kind to yourself.
   

5. Your polyamorous identity remains intact, not to worry! It’s natural for non-monogamous folks to feel like imposters when we’re not being as sexually or romantically active as we once were (as well as when we’re single and/or in between partnerships). What we don’t realize is that our feelings of self-consciousness are often intrinsically tied to how others in our community may perceive us. It becomes a question of, “If I’m not PRESENTING or PERFORMING active polyamory, do I still deserve to claim the title?” The answer is ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY! Screw what other people may think; you can’t control any thought processes but your own. As long as you still authentically identify with non-monogamy, that’s all that matters. 
   
   Finally, your insecurities here could also be linked to internalized shame manifesting itself. We’re often told by the mainstream majority that non-monogamy is nothing more than the actualization of wanting to fuck whoever we want, whenever we want, with reckless abandon. Even if we’re not consciously aware of it, we can internalize those harmful and inaccurate perceptions and find ourselves believing them to some extent, even when our logical brain knows otherwise. Don’t fall victim to the tricks of the mind!

Best of luck to you!