Somehow no-one ever asks the sensible psychological questions about living in a poly household. Assuming they can drag their fevered imaginations away from the bedroom, and fail to sink forever in the morass of missonary tales of polygamy, they want to know why you would put up with it.

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On one particular occasion, now known as the Sock Episode, Sarah and I were driving somewhere. As best friends who were pretty much the same clothing size, we shared clothing quite a bit, including a number of pairs of luscious cotton ragg socks I owned. This morning, however, it turned out that the balance of socks ended up all on Sarah's side. Inadvisedly and tactlessly, I tried to explain to Sarah that I didn't mind sharing my socks but I resented it when none of the socks were in my drawer. Sarah pulled over to the side of the highway, snatching off her footgear and ranting "Fine! I'll never borrow your socks again!"

There was a lot of the usual polyamory-standard talking after that, and we agreed that "Socks!" would be the codeword for "I think you're taking this too seriously." "I'll never borrow your socks again!" gets a regular workout in our house....