Satirical Memoir
Capitalism and Other Forms of Cheating in Transactional Relationships
How I became a polyamory relationship coach
I began my doctoral thesis, Love in the Time of Socialism, in 2015. It was a heady year full of Bernie Sanders rallies, AOC crushes, and deep discussions on Susan Sarandon’s sexual preferences. I remain firmly on Team Bisexual.
Understandably, my academic time was spent researching the power dynamics of relationships within a capitalist context. In typical male-dominated research fashion, my lit review peaked and abruptly ended too soon, leaving me empty and longing for more information, if not for my own personal satisfaction then to maintain my funding.
My partner claimed that she understood the importance of extracurricular research, though she did mention she was working full time to support “my dream” of landing a full-time, tenure track position in Radical Economic and Relationship Studies.
My research took an unexpected turn.
Initially, I set out to interview professional cuddlers. By the end of the week, however, I found myself in the midst of a free hug rally with some radical cuddlers and from there I embarked on a ragingly passionate relationship with a local Democratic Party chair. That ended after the superdelegates debacle of #HotSocialistSummer2016.
Shattered by the DNC’s choice of the presidential nominee, I sampled a veritable smorgasbord of grassroots organizations. My partner, with a beleaguered and patronizing sigh, asked when I would be done Occupying Whore Street.
Frenzied research supplied surprising results.
One four-week, post-Women’s March stint of lovemaking on numerous futons, bamboo mats, an air mattress in the bed of a Subaru Crosstrek, and a profoundly mind-blowing evening in a silver Prius later, I returned to my partner with the intent of staying in our own bed.
That evening, upon her return from an MBA course, she found me unraveling pink pussy hats into more inclusive beret shapes. That’s when she began speaking words that would transform my entire academic trajectory, if not my life.
Transactional relationships, she explained, were essential to healthy teams and supervisor dynamics.
At the time, I thought she was explaining Bitcoin, even though she told me the two things had nothing to do with one another. Still, I made my case for crypto as a transformative disrupter of consolidated wealth. I think she came along to my way of seeing things because she paid for dinner at a very hip vegan restaurant that, alas, was not hip enough to accept crypto.
A real-world transactional relationship set me on edge.
After a tumultuous, steamy sex session she smiled at me and said that she had just proved the efficacy of transactional relationships. Didn’t I enjoy myself? Whereupon, our discussion soon turned to the value of a meal versus the value of an orgasm, the meaning of intimacy, the worth of truth, and if chickpeas could ever really be disguised as meat.
At one point we both claimed that in the economy of relationships neither one of us was profiting. I accused her of venture capitalism, only keeping me until her investment in my research paid off. She emitted a self-satisfied snort and said that she could not take me seriously when I was wearing that hat.
Our sad breakup fueled the final 300 pages of my dissertation, which I parlayed into an additional three years of funding.
The end of my romantic and academic relationships left me empty.
Degree in hand, I struggled to find a post-doc in plague-ridden America and contemplated van life. Fortunately, salvation arrived in the form of a frantic text from my committee chair. He asked me to define fluid transactional relationships again. Startled, since he had to have read the 150-page chapter on the entire subject only six months ago, I called him back to walk him through it.
Before I was even three minutes in, he asked if I could meet him and a “very” former student. I was about to offer him a link to my PowerPoint, but it seemed that I had put myself on mute. Fortunately, that gave him the impetus to fill the awkward silence with a promise to pay me if I could please help “fix” the relationship with the “very” former student, his wife, and the student’s partner by explaining the benefits of, as he put it, relationship fluid.
I told him my services were $150 per hour plus an additional $75 for each relationship participant, or $350 more for five and up. Unfortunately, there are no refunds in polyamory consulting, but I did offer him a break-up option that included a deep discount on third-party professional cuddling sessions. He went for it.
Thus, I found my calling as a polyamorous relationship coach. For .99 you can buy the Kindle version of Socialist Polyamory: Universal Basic Love or sign up for my one-on-one (for lack of a better term) course, Passionate Debt: Citing and Biting Your Way Out of Student Loan Payments.
I made all of this up. None of this is true. Yet, I kind of wish this was my life.
