The Only Thing I Hate about My Open Relationship (It’s Not Jealousy)
There is so much to love about an open relationship, the list is almost endless.
I LOVE the fact that different partners bring out very different sides of me. My own partner calms down my soul, anchors me, supports my dreams and cheers me on. We have common goals we work towards and we share the same values. It’s wholesome, steady and harmonious.
The men I date, bring the fire, the party, the excitement and the rawness of how liberating a stupid decision can feel. I’ve skinny-dipped on first dates and climbed construction sites to watch the sun rise over the city. It makes me feel alive, like nothing else. I savour these moments, knowing my twenties won’t last forever (we’re talking months, here).
My dates balance mindfulness with recklessness and it’s the very essence of the problem and solution alike.
Unsurprisingly, most of my dates are also pretty much the opposite of my partner character-wise. I’m pursuing the extroverted thrill-seekers because I know they will suck me into their lives and take me along for the ride. Be it threesomes, sex parties or fetishes I haven’t tried.
Most of the time I’ll come home totally exhausted, seeing my handsome partner still half-asleep, smiling at me as the morning sun shines through the curtains. And I’m deeply grateful for the wild night, but I’m even more grateful for the man lying in my bed.
But sometimes (and sometimes is often enough if you’re an overthinker) I come home and I look at my partner and I wish he’d be more like this guy or that guy. And it is never about sex. Whenever I discover something new in bed, I just bring it home and share it with my partner. Our sex life has continuously evolved as a result of it, and it’s one of the most beautiful side effects of an open relationship.
I would love for us to go dancing more, but he just doesn’t like clubbing. I would love for us to throw house parties, but it’s not his kind of thing. Even though I know they’re simply projections of my desire to enjoy certain moments with my partner, I still end up picking fights over this. (They usually start with “you never…” — and we all know how it goes from here.)
I know it’s futile. And yet, I can’t help it because in those moments the feelings of frustration are genuine. Of course, the fling only looks shiny, because I’ve got my rose-coloured glasses on. Every new relationship is exciting at the beginning. I know in my heart and my bones, that one cannot compare a relationship of many years with a fling I met 3 dates ago.
All the other times I know that the open relationship gives me a healthy balance to have both. But “sometimes” is so dangerous, because it has the power to make you forget all the other times.
I absolutely HATE the mental work I need to put into separating an exciting new fling, from a strong mature relationship. The new guys highlight so clearly, anything that I may be missing in my current relationship.
It’s about a sense of curiosity or their social suave, it could be about their interests or certain character traits. We all compare, we can’t help it. Most (monogamous) people compare boyfriends to ex-partners. Especially when the previous relationship isn’t that long ago. Or we compare ourselves to other couples or close friends. But the difference is I’ve never felt guilty for comparing my partner to my ex (plus, he would come out on top in most scenarios anyways). But comparing my partner to a guy I just started seeing feels like the slippiest of slopes.
The only way to effectively deal with my mixture of guilt, frustration and picking fights as a result, is slowing it down with the fling. Re-focusing on my relationship, on the happy parts and all the reasons why we work so well as a team.
Taking time to reconnect at the beach (we live by the ocean and love a day of reading and sunbathing) and just talking about this, that and the other. If I’m in a good place to make it sound like a suggestion vs an accusation, I might try and bring up the topic that’s on my mind. “Hey, we haven’t done x in ages” or “Do you remember when we use to prank y? Let’s do something sneaky again, I love the thrill and I love doing it with you”.
Taking a step back, I also try and suggest activities we might both enjoy and could discover together. A new restaurant, a new hiking trail, or a gallery opening.
In some ways, the open relationship almost forces us to keep doing fun date nights, have meaningful conversations and do activities that connect us.
The only problem? Not all flings have the power to get into my head. The rare ones who do, are the hardest to cool down. They are the ones that consume me the most, the ones so thrilling, they feel like a drug.
They are typically the ones, that I’d fall for if I was single… or poly.
