In my last newsletter, we explored a positive example of polyamory done right: the Aubrey Marcus Trilogy—a story of brave relational transition, honest public storytelling, and polyamory grounded in mutual care and personal growth.
If you missed that one, I highly recommend going back and reading it. You can find it here.
This week, we’re flipping the coin.
Let’s talk about a far more common—and far more painful—portrayal of non-monogamy: the reality show PolyFamily. Aired earlier this year on TLC, it ran for just one season before being cancelled. And frankly, I’m glad. Because while it may have been well-intentioned, it showcased a lot of what can go wrong in polyamory — and in relationships more broadly.
The premise? Two heterosexual married couples—all first-time polyamorists—move in together and form a four-parent household with four kids and one more on the way. The men don’t date each other, nor do the women, but each woman is romantically and sexually involved with both men, and none of them dates outside this configuration, creating a closed quad.
They’ve lived together for three years, but the cracks run deep.
What Was (Sort of) Working
Before we get into the messy parts, let’s acknowledge what they did get right. Because while the overall picture leaves a lot to be desired, it’s not without a few redeeming efforts.
- Putting themselves out there
This was the first polyamorous relationship for all four adults involved. That alone is brave. And choosing to document it publicly? That takes guts.
So yes—kudos for the courage and vulnerability.
- Structuring their time together
They had one thing figured out that many polycules struggle with: logistics.
The two women each had their own bedrooms, while the men rotated between them nightly. This alternating schedule that governed not just their sleeping and sexy-time arrangements, but also their morning transitions, date nights, and even who sat next to whom in the car or on the couch that day!
It’s not a system that would work for everyone, but it seemed to work for them pretty well, and it’s a pretty simple and clear way to deal with a major aspect of cohabiting polyamory that could otherwise create a lot of confusion, hurt feelings, and resentment.
- Unknown paternity strategy
They made the intentional decision not to know who the biological father was for two of the kids born after they all got together—and for the new one on the way.
The goal was to reduce possessiveness and avoid favoritism. While I’m not sure about the practicality of such a decision (blood types can be revealing, plus there are often medical purposes for known paternity), but as a psychological and evolutionary strategy, it makes some sense. And I respect the effort.
Where It Fell Apart
Unfortunately, that’s where the praise ends.
Because beyond logistics and intention, PolyFamily revealed a relational structure utterly lacking in the basic foundations of healthy nonmonogamous or even monogamous relationships.
- Poor communication skills
After three years of living together, these four adults hadn’t figured out some basic agreements about their life together (like who is disciplining the kids and how, or disclosure about what happened in the other bedroom).
Even worse, they couldn’t/wouldn’t really talk to each other about basic conflicts. Important issues around child discipline or accidental paternity revelations that should’ve been discussed immediately went unresolved for weeks or longer! And when they did talk, the conversations were typically fairly superficial, awkward, filled with defensiveness, and didn’t seem to resolve the lingering feelings.
Their lack of communication skills also made them poor mediators. When one partner struggled or had conflict with another one, the others either didn’t get involved or offered little substantive insight, support, or relational creativity.
The overall sense one got was that resentments lingered, and growth was stagnant.
- Boundary violations
One partner, Alicia, had a clear boundary: she didn’t want to hear details about her husband’s sex life with the other woman. That boundary was continually challenged or directly violated since the others didn’t share it, didn’t believe it was reasonable, and didn’t respect it.
Either way—not okay.
- Deep disconnection between the men
By that point in the relationship, the two women seemed like they had gotten to a fairly good place as each other’s metamours. The two men, on the other hand, most definitely had not. Not only were they not friends, they didn’t even seem to like each other. They avoided conversations, connection, even basic coordination.
Compare that to the Aubrey setup, where Josh and Aubrey have cultivated a genuine brotherhood—an emotionally generative relationship of their own, just like Vylana and Alana had cultivated a genuine sisterhood. This was the opposite.
- No curiosity, no growth
One of the most frustrating parts for me was the total lack of intellectual curiosity.
During a doctor’s visit soon after the new baby is born, the birth mom and one of the men (Tyler) are told the baby’s blood type: OO. Tyler shares this info with the group. Sean realizes this info can be indicative of paternity, does a quick Google search, and wrongly concludes he cannot be the father since his blood type is B.
This spirals into weeks of hurt, anger, major tensions between Sean and Tyler, Tyler rubbing his supposed fatherhood in Sean’s face (like by wearing a “Dada” t-shirt), and just general escalation of the drama amongst the whole family.
Of course, that’s not how genetics works. A type B parent could absolutely father a type OO child, if the B parent is heterozygous (ie. carrying a recessive O allele -BO), as opposed to homozygous (ie. BB). Without knowing everyone’s full genotype (or at least Sean’s full genotype), there’s no way to know who the father is.
The problem is not so much that no one knew this (although, it is basic high school biology, so says something about the state of US education?). It’s that not one of the other adults looked it up to confirm. No one had the impulse to fact-check. No one questioned Sean’s assumption. They just took it as truth and ran with it–allowing to poison their dynamic–for several weeks!
(It wasn’t until Teya talked to her mom–a nurse who also had to google it!–before they finally realized Sean was wrong).
- Equity vs. equality, misunderstood
The season ends with Teya—who’s bisexual—asking to explore a connection with another woman outside the quad, as no one within their existing configuration could meet that need.
While her husband and Alisia seem understanding of this unmet need, Tyler emphatically argues that she can only do that if the rule changes for everyone. This is a rigid, one-size-fits-all interpretation of fairness based on equality (the same for everyone, regardless of needs), instead of equity (to each according to their needs). And the difference matters. (If you want to understand more about equity vs. equality, this blog post explains it.)
What’s worse is that no one else in the group even raised the distinction. No one asked if the rule could be adapted. No one offered nuance. They weren’t just unequipped—they were uninterested in learning how to do better.
The Bigger Problem
We’ve seen this before. Polyamory: Married & Dating. Sister Wives. Now PolyFamily. Over and over, popular media gives us stories of non-monogamy rooted in chaos, immaturity, and avoidant dynamics. And then calls it “representation.”
I’m tired of it.
This isn’t just about one show. It’s about what these portrayals teach people. About polyamory. About consent. About communication. About love.
It’s not that polyamory is inherently messy (although it is harder than all other relationship structures)—it’s that most people have never learned the skills, tools, and mindsets needed to do it well. That’s why shows like Aubrey Marcus’ matter.
That’s why PolyFamily doesn’t just fail its participants—it fails the broader conversation.
Until next time,
Dr Zhana
