The Monogamous Polyglot

On Loyalty, Language, and Choosing One in a World of Infinite Options

With every language came not just new words, but new values, emotions, and ways of seeing. Still, amid the fluidity of modern love, I’ve chosen something rare: monogamy. This is my reflection on language, loyalty, and what it means to commit in a world addicted to choice.

I was born into many tongues.

Taiwanese cradled me. Tagalog helped me survive. Mandarin was my duty. English became my bridge to the world. Later, I chose Japanese for its simplicity and Italian to live fully in Tuscany. Language has always been more than sound. It’s about structure. Rhythm. The blueprint of how a culture thinks, feels, and relates.

Each new structure reveals a new way of seeing.

In America, language centers on the word I. Identity, uniqueness, self-expression are everything—even when it veers into the absurd. People wear neon wigs to the grocery store and speak as if their personal truth should always take center stage. In China, language carries a different weight. You are part of a system. Who you are is who you are to others. If your perspective doesn’t fit, it’s quietly questioned—and sometimes erased.

As a polyglot, I have adopted many worldviews. Every language has taught me not just how to speak, but how to think. It’s not just pronunciation—it’s mindset, values, emotional logic. There’s a saying: the more you know, the more you don’t know. But I’ve found the opposite. With each language I step into, I see more clearly: no culture has it all figured out. No way of life is superior.

And the more you live in other worlds, the harder it becomes to judge them.

I’ve spoken in their mother tongues. I’ve sat at their grandmothers’ tables. Learned to really say thank you the way they do. With every culture I enter, I shed the arrogance of certainty. Life can be lived beautifully in a thousand forms.

Still, there are things I’ve chosen to anchor me.

I’ve never been the lovey-dovey type. I don’t chase love or go looking for it in every room. But when it finds me and it’s real, I stay.

I am a monogamous woman in a culture of endless choice.

Infidelity is casual now. Polyamory is trending. Some treat relationships like a tasting menu—sampling sexual flavors, proud of their “ethical” openness. I get it. But I still question the structure.

Because society still needs structure.

Children need consistency, warmth, and safety to become who they’re meant to be. Relationships aren’t just about freedom or desire. They’re the soil we build futures in. And when love spreads too thin, something loses shape.

I’ve seen too many glossy marriages that are hollow inside. Contracts signed for validation, not intimacy. Mistresses filling gaps. Partners who leave emotionally before they ever leave physically. Children who spend holidays in two homes. But I’ve also seen rare, quiet partnerships that glow with mutual devotion. Those are the ones I believe in.

Love isn’t about the number of people you can love at once. It’s about how deeply you can love just one.

Monogamy may sound old-fashioned now, but to me, it’s radical. To choose one person and keep choosing them. Even when it’s hard. Even when life changes. Even when there are shinier options.

I’ve lived many lives and dreamed in many languages. But when it comes to love, I believe in one home, one body, one soul to return to.

Yes, I am a monogamous polyglot. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.