A Guide for First-Time Secondaries

What balance really means in non-monogamy when you’re not the primary partner

I got a message recently from a Substack reader who wrote:

“I’ve always been in monogamous relationships. I’m now spending time with someone in an open ENM marriage, and I keep wondering—will it always feel this different? I’ve been reading your articles to help manage my feelings and boundaries. It’s hard. I’m trying to unlearn how I would normally handle things. At times, the vulnerability with communication can be unsettling. I’m trying to be chill and show care. Any suggestions on balance? Also… I’m the single one.”

First of all, if you resonate with this—take a deep breath.

Stepping into a new relational paradigm—especially one without a clear roadmap or cultural script—can be both beautiful and deeply disorienting.

Especially when you're dating someone who's already in a long-term partnership, it’s common to feel unsure of your role, your rights, or even how much you’re allowed to want. And when you identify as “single” in this context, that can heighten the disorientation. It’s easy to feel like the “extra” in someone else’s love story.

If You're in a “Secondary” Role for the First Time

If you’re new to non-monogamy, you might not be familiar with the term secondary partner. In many hierarchical relationship structures, a primary partner is someone with whom a person shares major life commitments—like marriage, cohabitation, parenting, or shared finances. A secondary partner is someone with a meaningful connection, but generally less entangled in daily logistics, life planning, or decision-making.

This doesn’t mean the connection is less valuable—but it often is less prioritized when time, energy, or emotional bandwidth are stretched. And if you’re coming from a monogamous framework, where partnership usually means being someone’s main person, stepping into a secondary role can feel unfamiliar and disorienting.

You’re not just building a connection with one person—you’re entering an existing relational ecosystem, one that may already have:

– Longstanding agreements and boundaries you didn’t co-create
– A spouse or nesting partner whose needs take precedence
– Unspoken norms about how much time, energy, or intimacy is available

And navigating that ecosystem takes emotional skill—especially if you weren’t the one who designed the map.

Finally, if you identify as “the single one” in the dynamic, it can be even harder to know how much space you’re allowed to take up. It’s possible you may feel like a guest in someone else’s relationship—unsure if your needs will be honored, or if you’re expected to stay flexible, quiet, and convenient.

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Let’s Talk About Balance When it Comes to Multi-Partner Relationships

You asked: “Any suggestions on balance?”

Before we can begin to find balance in a non-monogamous relationship, we need to understand the shape of the structure we’re stepping into—so we can more clearly see where (and if) we fit within it.

Because in this context, balance isn’t just about managing your emotions. It’s about understanding the relational container you’re entering and choosing your place in it with intention and clarity.

Many people new to non-monogamy don’t go in thinking, “I want to be a secondary partner.” And yet, that’s often the role we find ourselves in when dating someone who’s already married or in a long-term relationship. If it’s your first time in this kind of dynamic, it’s completely natural to feel unsure about how much you’re “allowed” to want—or how to express your needs without disrupting an already-established system.

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So What Kind of Non-Monogamous Structure Are You In, Really?

The word “open” can mean wildly different things to different people. Some open marriages allow for ongoing deep romantic connections (polyamory), while others are open primarily for casual sex or emotionally light experiences.

If you’re hoping for a full-spectrum, emotionally invested relationship—but the married person you’re dating only has capacity for casual, low-stakes connection—you will feel imbalanced no matter how hard you try to self-regulate.

So get curious. I know you mentioned that vulnerable communication can feel unsettling—but getting clarity about the structure you’re entering is essential. Consider asking the married person you’re dating questions like:

• “When you say you’re in an open marriage, what does that actually mean to you and your spouse?”

• “What kind of relationship(s) are you available for outside of your marriage? What does a meaningful connection look like to you?”

• “Are you and your spouse open to deeper emotional or romantic relationships—or is your version of openness more about casual dating or sex?”

• “What kind of agreements do you two have in place around time, communication, or emotional involvement with others?”

• “How does your spouse feel about our connection? Are they aware of what’s developing between us? Do you and your spouse typically meet the other people you’re each dating at a certain point?”

• “Does your spouse hold veto power—meaning, could they ask you to end our relationship if they felt uncomfortable?”

• “If something hard comes up in your marriage, how does that impact the time or energy you have for other relationships?”

These aren’t nosy or needy questions. They’re necessary ones. The answers will help you discern what kind of balance is actually possible—and whether it aligns with your needs.

Because for a relationship to truly be consensual non-monogamy, you have to be able to give informed, wholehearted consent to the structure you’re participating in—not just adapt to someone else’s terms.

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Balance in Open Relationships Isn't Just About What You're Feeling—It's About What You're Receiving

If you're constantly trying to be "chill" but feel like you’re tiptoeing around someone else’s primary relationship—uncertain about where you stand or how much you’re allowed to need or ask for—then it’s not just your feelings that are out of balance. The structure of the relationship might be, too.

A relationship container is the shape your connection takes: how much time, energy, care, and clarity is available to you. It's the framework within which your connection is held. And sometimes, the issue isn’t how you’re handling your emotions—it’s that the container you’re in doesn’t allow space for your needs to be fully seen and honored.

Ask yourself:

• Do I feel considered and respected in this dynamic?

• Is there consistency in how we communicate and show up?

• Is there room for my needs to be named, negotiated, and met?

• Do I actually know what kind of relationship they’re available for with me—or am I filling in gaps with hope or assumptions?

Trying to balance your emotions in an inherently imbalanced or unclear structure will only leave you feeling more exhausted.

Sometimes the most loving—and self-honoring—thing you can do is say:
“I care about you, but I need a different kind of container in order to keep growing with you.”

That might mean co-creating new agreements, clarifying expectations, or even stepping back if your vision for connection doesn’t match what they’re able or willing to offer.

Balance doesn’t just come from managing your reactions. It comes from choosing relationships—and containers—that support your full humanity.

Let’s be clear:
💛 You are not just the single one.
💛 You are not an afterthought.
💛 You are not a placeholder.

You have agency. You’re not just a passenger on someone else’s love boat—you get to choose what kind of relationship you want to be part of.

Being a secondary partner can be rewarding, spacious, and emotionally rich—but only when there’s trust, clarity, and shared values. You need to know where you stand, what’s possible, and whether your needs can be honored within that framework.

Because sometimes you’re being asked—explicitly or implicitly—to wait, pause, or make do when the primary relationship needs support. And over time, that can start to feel less like balance and more like scarcity.

So ask yourself:
Is this expanding me—or is it depleting me?

Because you’re allowed to want mutuality, emotional availability, and shared growth. That’s not a flaw—it’s your compass.

And if the structure you’re in can’t support that, it’s okay to say:
“This isn’t the right container for me.”

A Quick But Important Reminder About Non-Monogamy

Not all non-monogamous people ascribe to hierarchical models like primary/secondary/tertiary. There are many other ways to relate—like non-hierarchical polyamory, solo polyamory, relationship anarchy, or co-created partnership structures that don’t default to prioritizing one connection over another.

So if a secondary role doesn’t feel nourishing or aligned for you, that doesn’t mean non-monogamy isn’t for you—it might just mean this particular structure or relationship isn’t a fit. There are so many ways to love, and so many people building relationships that reflect shared values of care, depth, and choice.

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So… How Do We Make This All Feel a Little Easier?

Here are a few things that help when we’re learning how to relate beyond monogamous assumptions and relationship scripts:

1. Find community.

There’s nothing like hearing someone else say, “Me too.” Whether it’s a poly support group, coaching circle, or group chat with other folks navigating non-monogamy, surrounding yourself with people who get it can normalize your experience and remind you that your feelings are valid.
(I’m building something new to support community belonging—stay tuned & jump on my Insider List to be the first to hear when it launches!)

2. Practice speaking your truth.

Many of us were taught to be agreeable instead of honest, especially when our needs might create tension. But there’s no sustainable balance without transparency. Speak up about what you’re noticing, what you need, and what you’re available for.

3. Give yourself permission to feel it all.

Jealousy, sadness, longing, joy, frustration—all of it. Your feelings are feedback. They don’t make you bad at non-monogamy. They make you human. The more compassion you can offer to yourself, the easier it becomes to discern what’s yours to stretch into—and what’s simply not a fit.

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💛 You don’t have to shrink your desires or settle for crumbs.
💛 You don’t have to demonize yourself for wanting more.
💛 You are allowed to ask for clarity and care.
💛 You are allowed to take up space in love.

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So to everyone who’s tenderly unlearning, feeling it all, and trying their best to stay open:

Be compassionate with yourself.
Move at your own pace.
Keep asking the brave questions.

You’re doing beautifully.

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If you’re navigating early non-monogamy, questioning a secondary dynamic, or wondering whether non-monogamous structures truly work for you—I offer somatic coaching, group workshops, and this weekly newsletter full of reflections like this one. You don’t have to figure it all out alone.

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For further reading about different non-monogamous structural options: