The Unfair 'All or Nothing' Rule

I never imagined I’d fall in love twice at the same time. Yet there I was—sharing Sunday morning coffee with two men I adored, thinking we'd crafted our own kind of fairytale. Three hearts intertwined, beating to a brand-new rhythm. It felt like magic.

Every fairytale, it seems, comes with fine print. In our story, it was the "all or nothing" clause lurking in the shadows. When I made the gut-wrenching decision to end things with Steve, I learned the hard way that breaking up with one meant losing both.

This is a story about love, and the heartbreak of ending a happy, healthy relationship with Adam just because my relationship with Steve failed. It’s a personal tale, but it carries a question that haunts many polyamorous folks: Is it ethical to destroy one love just because another can’t be saved? TL:DR version: No, it's wholly unethical.

Three’s Company, and It Felt Like Magic

When the three of us first came together, it felt like discovering a new colour in the spectrum. We laughed that "three's a crowd" never applied to us, more like three’s company. Our group chat had a cheesy name and an endless stream of heart emojis. We’d cuddle on the couch in a tangle of limbs watching movies, cook elaborate dinners for three, and fall asleep in a warm, triadic heap.

Looking back I was a unicorn - an elusive third person joining an established couple. But nothing about it felt elusive or secondary at first. They made me feel like an equal part of our triad. I wasn’t an intruder or a guest; I was family. We were all in love, all committed, all excited to build something beautiful together.

For a while, it truly was beautiful. Imagine planning weekend getaways where you have two partners to hold hands with on the beach instead of one. Double the inside jokes, double the support when I had a bad day, double the warm goodnight texts. Sure, we had to work out a few kinks in scheduling and jealousy (three calendars can be a circus!), but we tackled issues as a team. Every solution felt like a win for all of us.

In those early days, I remember thinking, This is what they mean by polyamory’s abundance of love. I felt lucky, loved, and so full of hope. If our story had ended there, you'd think it was a poly fairytale come true.

The Fine Print of Our Love: The 'All or Nothing' Clause

Every story of mine apparently needs a plot twist, and ours came in the form of a rule I half-knew about but never thought would be tested. Early on, Adam and Steve had gently mentioned a 'boundary':

"If things don’t work out between any two of us, the whole triad won’t continue."

At the time, basking in new relationship bliss, and new to polyamory I agreed. It sounded like a hypothetical we’d never need.

We even joked about it: “All for one and one for all, right?” Adam had said with a wink, referencing our Musketeers motto.

In hindsight, that motto carried a cruel double meaning. I didn’t realise “all for one” meant if one connection faltered, I'd lose everything. It was an all-or-nothing clause - no middle ground, no flexibility. Fine print in the contract of our love that none of us read too closely because we were busy writing poetry with our hearts.

When One Falls, We All Fall Down

In a monogamous relationship, when something isn’t working, you talk, you try, and if it’s truly broken, you walk away - just the two of you. But in a triad, every decision comes with collateral damage.

Steve and I tried, I swear we did. But over time, things between us became tense. Conversations that used to flow easily turned into awkward, careful tiptoeing. The spark that once felt electric between us started to dim. Steve and I weren’t good for each other anymore. And I knew it.

I agonised over it for weeks. But finally, after one too many misunderstandings, I ended it.

Not because I stopped caring, but because the version of our love that once existed was gone. I wanted something real, not something I had to force. I sat Steve down, heart pounding in my chest, and said the words that felt like a betrayal to everything we had built:

"I can’t do this anymore."

He didn’t argue. Didn’t fight. Just nodded, like he’d been waiting for it.

And then he said something that shattered me completely.

"You know this means you have to leave Adam too, right?"

I felt like I’d been punched in the stomach.

"What? No. That’s not what this means. Adam and I… we’re still… we’re happy."

"We agreed," Steve said quietly. "No one stays if one of us leaves."

Adam walked into the room then, his face pale, already knowing what had been said.

I turned to him, desperate. "We don’t have to do this, right? We can still be together?"

He opened his mouth, hesitated, and closed it again.

And just like that, I knew.

The Ethical Problem: When Love is Treated as a Package Deal

Steve and I breaking up? That was my choice. But losing Adam too? That wasn’t mine. That was a decision we had all locked into long before we knew what the future held and was firmly rooted in couples privilege. Their relationship was not being forced to end.

And that’s the real problem, isn’t it? Polyamory should be about love, not contracts. Yet here I was, watching a relationship that was still thriving be torn apart because of a rule. A rule that existed not to protect me or Adam or even Steve, but to protect the structure of their old relationship.

The ethical issue here is simple: Why should my love for Adam be erased just because my love for Steve didn’t last?

I get it - relationship shifts are messy. There’s jealousy, heartbreak, awkwardness. But monogamous people break up and still exist in shared spaces all the time. Why did we treat love like a package deal, as if feelings can only come in matched sets?

The “all or nothing” approach reduces people to roles instead of individuals. It assumes love is perfectly equal in all directions, all the time - which is impossible. Relationships evolve. People grow in different ways. If polyamory is supposed to allow for customisable, flexible love, why are we using rigid, monogamous-style rules to control it?

I wanted to stay with Adam. He wanted to stay with me. And yet, we still said goodbye. Not because we didn’t love each other. But because we had promised that’s how this had to go.

And that’s what I regret the most. Not that I broke up with Steve, but that Adam and I didn’t question the rule that forced us apart.

Final Thought: Love Shouldn’t Be an Ultimatum

Polyamory, at its best, should embrace fluidity. The ability to love multiple people means love isn’t defined by structure, it’s defined by connection.

I wish I had fought for Adam. I wish he had fought for me. I wish we had challenged the rule instead of obeying it like it was set in stone. But we didn’t. And that, more than the breakup itself, is what still haunts me.

The "all or nothing rule" was rooted in couples privilege, designed to act as a safeguard for their old dyad, it cost Adam and me our happy and loving relationship. The real sad thing is it didn't save their relationship either. Within a year that had run its course, and when Adam came looking to rekindle our love I was already married.