Growing up in a ménage à trois wasn’t just some outlandish experience; it was the foundation of my worldview. I didn’t see it as unusual. It was my norm, my reality. My mother’s love was abundant and multi-faceted, and her partners were as much a part of our family as anyone. There was no jealousy, no animosity, no hidden resentments. Just an open space of care and understanding. To me, it seemed like the perfect kind of family.But when my non-biological father, the one who was the more traditional figure in my life, asked her to make a choice, it was like watching the house of cards fall. And when she chose him, it was a kind of heartbreaking affirmation that the world outside didn’t understand, or maybe even accept, the way we had lived.I was 17 at the time—old enough to understand the emotional gravity of the situation but still young enough to feel betrayed by the change. In a way, my mom’s decision represented the same pull the world outside had over me: the world was dictating wh...
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