Monogamy.
The concept of monogamy is one which differs in both practice and definition depending on who you’re talking to. What it means to be monogamous with someone seems to be constantly changing. The safest route is probably to define such boundaries via conversation with your partner(s), though not everyone is mature enough in relationships to have those conversations and indeed, even when you make the effort to have that conversation you run the risk of someone agreeing to something they’re not actually comfortable with in order to appear accommodating. I’m tempted to say that fucking someone else while you are involved in some way with another person is a risky proposition in general, but then again, for some people it really seems to work.
I personally seem more drawn to a monogamous lifestyle than one that is not. For the most part my relationships have been defined as monogamous ones. The one exception would be my brief stint with Josh, during which we decided very early on that we had no issue with each other engaging in sex outside our relation-date-ship-thing, but not dating outside our relation-date-ship-thing. Emotional monogamy, if you will. Surprisingly enough, in his case the idea really seemed to fit, despite my sensibilities. It was even at the point that the thought of him having sex with someone else was actually a bit of a turn-on for me, and that I really can’t fathom. With the exception of him, though, the thought of a partner of mine being with someone else, emotionally or otherwise, has bothered me.
So what was the difference? Why, for instance, did it matter so much to me that J not sleep with anyone else, even though our long-distance circumstances nearly demanded it? With him, I cared so much that receiving an email from him detailing a sexual encounter he’d engaged in affected me so deeply that I was thrown into a panic attack and briefly hospitalized. There were other factors involved, but the act itself was somewhat the primary catalyst for that particular breakdown. It broke my heart, in a sense.
Was it that I cared about J more, and Josh less? That I somehow trusted Josh more (this one seems pretty impossible to me)? The most likely scenario in my mind is that the pull was different between the two. There was a very physical pull with Josh, it was all incredibly sexual and about the touching and feeling. All very physical. With J, and others, it was much more about the emotional pull. There was love there, genuine affection, genuine caring. And that is probably why the thought of them sharing something intimate with someone else was insulting (and to me, no matter how impersonal sex might be to some, there is always something intimate about it).
The more I care about someone the less the idea of them fucking someone else is comfortable to me. Even if I know it won’t matter to them, even if I know it won’t matter to the person they’re with. It somehow still matters to me. And much as I’d love to put on my “all grown up and too mature to care” hat, I really can’t in this instance, because that’s just not me.
Part of me does wonder, however, if you should ever really expect to get everything you need from one person, or if you should be resigned to the fact that involving others in your life is necessary and healthy. We get different things from our friends versus our lovers, from our families versus our coworkers. Is it really that much of a stretch to think that such an arrangement can be comfortably reached in your relationship?
I would enjoy finding someone to fulfill as many facets of what I need in a partner as possible. Maybe not all, because maybe that’s too much, but at least the majority. I like the idea of pointing to someone and saying that they fit with me, and I fit with them, and the fit is snug enough that there really is no need or room for anyone else. In an ideal world, that’s what my monogamy would look like.
I personally seem more drawn to a monogamous lifestyle than one that is not. For the most part my relationships have been defined as monogamous ones. The one exception would be my brief stint with Josh, during which we decided very early on that we had no issue with each other engaging in sex outside our relation-date-ship-thing, but not dating outside our relation-date-ship-thing. Emotional monogamy, if you will. Surprisingly enough, in his case the idea really seemed to fit, despite my sensibilities. It was even at the point that the thought of him having sex with someone else was actually a bit of a turn-on for me, and that I really can’t fathom. With the exception of him, though, the thought of a partner of mine being with someone else, emotionally or otherwise, has bothered me.
So what was the difference? Why, for instance, did it matter so much to me that J not sleep with anyone else, even though our long-distance circumstances nearly demanded it? With him, I cared so much that receiving an email from him detailing a sexual encounter he’d engaged in affected me so deeply that I was thrown into a panic attack and briefly hospitalized. There were other factors involved, but the act itself was somewhat the primary catalyst for that particular breakdown. It broke my heart, in a sense.
Was it that I cared about J more, and Josh less? That I somehow trusted Josh more (this one seems pretty impossible to me)? The most likely scenario in my mind is that the pull was different between the two. There was a very physical pull with Josh, it was all incredibly sexual and about the touching and feeling. All very physical. With J, and others, it was much more about the emotional pull. There was love there, genuine affection, genuine caring. And that is probably why the thought of them sharing something intimate with someone else was insulting (and to me, no matter how impersonal sex might be to some, there is always something intimate about it).
The more I care about someone the less the idea of them fucking someone else is comfortable to me. Even if I know it won’t matter to them, even if I know it won’t matter to the person they’re with. It somehow still matters to me. And much as I’d love to put on my “all grown up and too mature to care” hat, I really can’t in this instance, because that’s just not me.
Part of me does wonder, however, if you should ever really expect to get everything you need from one person, or if you should be resigned to the fact that involving others in your life is necessary and healthy. We get different things from our friends versus our lovers, from our families versus our coworkers. Is it really that much of a stretch to think that such an arrangement can be comfortably reached in your relationship?
I would enjoy finding someone to fulfill as many facets of what I need in a partner as possible. Maybe not all, because maybe that’s too much, but at least the majority. I like the idea of pointing to someone and saying that they fit with me, and I fit with them, and the fit is snug enough that there really is no need or room for anyone else. In an ideal world, that’s what my monogamy would look like.