Opening Up the Relationship: last-ditch attempt to save a failing union or enlightened quest for freedom?
Perhaps the title of this piece is somewhat misleading, presenting a false dichotomy when in fact both options can simultaneously be true. I do, however, think that the driving force behind couples — or one half of the couple, at least— wanting to ‘open things up’ can generally be divided into these two groups. I speak both from personal experience, placing myself squarely within the freedom-seeking camp, and from the experience of others, having spoken to a number of people who tried and (usually) failed to reignite a dwindling relationship.
Married for five years and together for almost seven, my wife, Charlie, and I felt like we had nailed the whole monogamy thing. Arguably, we had grown too dependent on one another; insular and slightly withdrawn from social life, preferring instead to stay in and watch boxsets, but our relationship was in great shape. If I were to pick on one area in need of improvement, it would have been our sex life, having descended from the heady heights of multiple times a day at its zenith (in the early days, admittedly) to once a fortnight shortly before our journey into the weird world of non-monogamy and polyamory.
Charlie and I were in bed one morning, in the spare bedroom, actually, because we were still waiting for the carpet to be laid in our bedroom. I don’t remember the exact conversation, but she was telling me about her friend and work colleague — let’s call him James — and how she realised that she had started to develop romantic feelings for him. A crush, I think she called it.
Apart from a time right at the beginning of our relationship — while we were sill doing the long distance thing — when Charlie revealed that she had given her number to a guy who had been hitting on her all night, I hadn’t felt that same gut-wrenching pang of jealousy while being with her. It was painful, upsetting and disappointing to think of another person producing feelings of infatuation, butterflies and sexual desire in my wife. I had the predictable (and, with the benefit of hindsight, misguided) emotional response of wondering why I wasn’t enough and thinking how I might have behaved differently in order to prevent her from developing a crush on someone else. For maybe five or ten minutes, while I was trying to process what I had heard, it really hurt. But we kept talking, she assured me that she would never act on the desire, but that she thought it was important to be totally upfront about how she was feeling. However painful it is to hear something like that, I love and respect this impulse of hers and I think it’s a huge driver behind our success as a couple.
I don’t remember how the rest of that exchange went, but it led to further conversations, culminating in the now fateful ‘bathroom freedom discussion’ — not, I should clarify, a talk about exploring our bowel movements, but a chat about freedom in general, which took place in our bathroom. We mutually came to the agreement that while we were happy together as a couple, we would love the opportunity to meet, date and have sex with other people as well. To have our cake and eat it. This was the start of our foray into ethical non-monogamy (ENM) and the downloading of dating apps duly followed.
Dating multiple people while trying to maintain a harmonious relationship with your primary partner who you live with is, unsurprisingly, fraught with difficulty. And, in all honesty, I should say that the cause of most of this friction was my own insecurity, fear of losing Charlie and, I guess, some lurking possessiveness, which had lain dormant during the many years of monogamy. Traditional relationships provide a rigid framework and set of rules which generally prevent these emotions from surfacing (unless someone breaks them).
Despite feelings of jealousy, which over time have diminished exponentially — though do continue to resurface at often unpredictable moments — the whole experiment has been incredibly rewarding. Having gone from socialising with the same smattering of friends on average about once a fortnight for the last few years, Charlie and I have met about twenty new people in the preceding three months, some of whom have become close and valued friends — and more.
For those couples embarking on this journey in an attempt to salvage a relationship in its twilight, the end result is almost always the conclusion of that partnership, whether short and sharp or long and protracted. I think it is fundamental to go into something like this from a position of strength and with an already practiced tradition of painfully honest communication. It is important to realise that you do risk damaging or even ruining the relationship by introducing so many uncontrollable external variables. But, with this increased risk and chance of emotional turmoil, comes a great deal of excitement and the potential for untold joy and fulfilment. It’s definitely not for everyone, but for those willing to put in the work, the rewards can be great.
