Writer's Block: There Can Be Only One
Not all that long ago I was fully committed to the idea that monogamy was was the only appropriate means of sexual expression within a committed relationship. I believed that sexual exclusivity was the ultimate expression of romantic love.
For some people this may well hold true. There are people who seem to be hard wired to favor monogamy. If the boundaries of your relationship include monogamy you should honor those boundaries. Even when I was trapped in a loveless first marriage under conditions that technically qualify as sexual assault--not to mention all of the emotional abuse--I believed that it was morally wrong to engage in a sexual or emotional relationship outside of that marriage because I had agreed to monogamy. Breaching that agreement would have made me no better than the person to whom I was married, even if most people would say I was justified. Instead, I got divorced, and regained the freedom to do as I pleased without having ever sacrificed my moral high ground.
After years in my second marriage, a much healthier relationship, I found myself regretting that I had been the one to push for monogamy in our marriage contract. We had discussed having the freedom to experiment with sex at some future time but had never clearly defined what that meant. When we had hit a stretch of two years that were mostly without sex and romance I found myself in a precarious position. I was the one who experienced dissatisfaction. My husband seemed quite content to not have sex anymore and treated it as a time and energy drain rather than the loving expression of intimacy and desire it once had been. Getting off with me just wasn't interesting to him anymore. And it wasn't just "with me." He was basically uninterested in sex, period.
If I felt the same way there would have been no issue. However, part of the make up of the essential me is my value of sexual intimacy. I want it. I crave it. For me, sex is a validation of my desirability, physically and emotionally. It makes me feel loved, connected, wanted, and sexy. When I'm having sex regularly I feel energized and vital. Without that I begin to feel unloved, unwanted, unlovely, and depressed. I look for alternatives. Sometimes those are healthy, like exercise or crafting, and sometimes not so much, like food.
With my husband and only source of sexual gratification intentionally unavailable to me I was left with a list of choices. First, I could accept this as my existence and simply deal with it as best as I was able. Second, I could end the marriage, which I didn't want to do. Third, I could cheat--just go out and find another person who was willing to play that roll. And fourth, I could renegotiate the monogamous nature of my marriage. That fourth option seemed like the best possible alternative. I am deeply in love with my husband, but I was also deeply dissatisfied with our sexual relationship. He was unwilling or unable to address this in any way that I perceived as meaningful. A betrayal of his faith seemed unthinkable, and a divorce would be emotionally trying for us and our young children, to say the least.
After yet another heart-to-heart about the state of sex in our marriage I broached the subject of opening the marriage to other sexual partners. Not just for me, but for him also. After spending a LOT of time thinking about it I realized that maybe his sexual ennui was at least half my fault. Neither of us had been virginal types prior to marriage, and we'd been only sleeping with each other for nearly 9 years at this point. What a recipe for boredom! Compound that with the simple fact that I have no idea whether I'm a decent lover, honestly. Sure, he's told me that, but he also tells me I'm beautiful. After bearing someone's children they're kinda more obligated than objective. And maybe, just maybe, all other things being equal, freedom and opportunity might spark his interest in general and I'd get to reap the benefit of that. For my own benefit I saw entering the world of polyamoury as a way to let off some steam and relieve the pressure so that I could face this issue with him on a rational level again. I explained that I wasn't attempting to replace him or looking for a new relationship so I'd feel comfortable ending ours. My love for him wasn't diminished in any way, nor was my desire for him, but I had to admit that I need sex and if I can't get it from him then I should be able to get it somewhere. I outlined what I thought the four options were and asked him to think about it. If he had any other suggestions I was open to hearing them.
He didn't.
After some thought he admitted that he didn't have a better answer. He didn't want a divorce, he didn't want me having to sneak around, and he realized that it wasn't fair for me to have to give up sex at the age of 35.
I already felt relieved. And in the middle of the negotiations a friend from long ago made contact and agreed to take the job, so to speak. See my blog for more info on the nearly tortuous route that I've traveled with him so far.
Inerestingly, as soon as the conversation moved from the theoretical and into the inevitable, all I had to do was mention my new lover's name and my husband was interested in and pushing for sex. We've made love more in the last four months than we have in the last two years. He began flirting with me again and showed a first time ever sense of playfulness. Some of his overwhelming sense of inhibition has diminished. We're enjoying each other more. And he says I'm happier than he's seen me in years.
To be clear, I have had only one encounter with my lover. He lives much too far away for us to see each other with any regularity, but we speak nearly every day. Yes, I got more than I bargained for--I fell in love. But I also fell in love with my husband again, too. And while the basic issue of the frequency of our sexual encounters has been resolved we're still deep into dialogue about why and what we can do to keep it from happening again, because I'd give just about anything to keep from going back to that.
We're also comfortable with having ditched monogamy. I'd love it if he found a lover that excited him as much as mine excited me, and I'm certainly not opposed to finding other possible partners for myself. Sex is fun and enjoyable, and variety is the spice of life. Sure, there are all kinds of arguments about having multiple partners increasing your exposure to the nasty world of STDs and even exposing you to potential violence. Permission to engage in sex with multiple partners doesn't mean permission to act like an idiot. I carry condoms and I make sure there's a supply at home. My partner and I had a discussion about our sexual histories. Flirting is fun, but picking up some random guy in a bar is stupid and not on my list of options.
So, can there be only one? For some people, sure. For my part, I'm glad it's no longer a concern.
For some people this may well hold true. There are people who seem to be hard wired to favor monogamy. If the boundaries of your relationship include monogamy you should honor those boundaries. Even when I was trapped in a loveless first marriage under conditions that technically qualify as sexual assault--not to mention all of the emotional abuse--I believed that it was morally wrong to engage in a sexual or emotional relationship outside of that marriage because I had agreed to monogamy. Breaching that agreement would have made me no better than the person to whom I was married, even if most people would say I was justified. Instead, I got divorced, and regained the freedom to do as I pleased without having ever sacrificed my moral high ground.
After years in my second marriage, a much healthier relationship, I found myself regretting that I had been the one to push for monogamy in our marriage contract. We had discussed having the freedom to experiment with sex at some future time but had never clearly defined what that meant. When we had hit a stretch of two years that were mostly without sex and romance I found myself in a precarious position. I was the one who experienced dissatisfaction. My husband seemed quite content to not have sex anymore and treated it as a time and energy drain rather than the loving expression of intimacy and desire it once had been. Getting off with me just wasn't interesting to him anymore. And it wasn't just "with me." He was basically uninterested in sex, period.
If I felt the same way there would have been no issue. However, part of the make up of the essential me is my value of sexual intimacy. I want it. I crave it. For me, sex is a validation of my desirability, physically and emotionally. It makes me feel loved, connected, wanted, and sexy. When I'm having sex regularly I feel energized and vital. Without that I begin to feel unloved, unwanted, unlovely, and depressed. I look for alternatives. Sometimes those are healthy, like exercise or crafting, and sometimes not so much, like food.
With my husband and only source of sexual gratification intentionally unavailable to me I was left with a list of choices. First, I could accept this as my existence and simply deal with it as best as I was able. Second, I could end the marriage, which I didn't want to do. Third, I could cheat--just go out and find another person who was willing to play that roll. And fourth, I could renegotiate the monogamous nature of my marriage. That fourth option seemed like the best possible alternative. I am deeply in love with my husband, but I was also deeply dissatisfied with our sexual relationship. He was unwilling or unable to address this in any way that I perceived as meaningful. A betrayal of his faith seemed unthinkable, and a divorce would be emotionally trying for us and our young children, to say the least.
After yet another heart-to-heart about the state of sex in our marriage I broached the subject of opening the marriage to other sexual partners. Not just for me, but for him also. After spending a LOT of time thinking about it I realized that maybe his sexual ennui was at least half my fault. Neither of us had been virginal types prior to marriage, and we'd been only sleeping with each other for nearly 9 years at this point. What a recipe for boredom! Compound that with the simple fact that I have no idea whether I'm a decent lover, honestly. Sure, he's told me that, but he also tells me I'm beautiful. After bearing someone's children they're kinda more obligated than objective. And maybe, just maybe, all other things being equal, freedom and opportunity might spark his interest in general and I'd get to reap the benefit of that. For my own benefit I saw entering the world of polyamoury as a way to let off some steam and relieve the pressure so that I could face this issue with him on a rational level again. I explained that I wasn't attempting to replace him or looking for a new relationship so I'd feel comfortable ending ours. My love for him wasn't diminished in any way, nor was my desire for him, but I had to admit that I need sex and if I can't get it from him then I should be able to get it somewhere. I outlined what I thought the four options were and asked him to think about it. If he had any other suggestions I was open to hearing them.
He didn't.
After some thought he admitted that he didn't have a better answer. He didn't want a divorce, he didn't want me having to sneak around, and he realized that it wasn't fair for me to have to give up sex at the age of 35.
I already felt relieved. And in the middle of the negotiations a friend from long ago made contact and agreed to take the job, so to speak. See my blog for more info on the nearly tortuous route that I've traveled with him so far.
Inerestingly, as soon as the conversation moved from the theoretical and into the inevitable, all I had to do was mention my new lover's name and my husband was interested in and pushing for sex. We've made love more in the last four months than we have in the last two years. He began flirting with me again and showed a first time ever sense of playfulness. Some of his overwhelming sense of inhibition has diminished. We're enjoying each other more. And he says I'm happier than he's seen me in years.
To be clear, I have had only one encounter with my lover. He lives much too far away for us to see each other with any regularity, but we speak nearly every day. Yes, I got more than I bargained for--I fell in love. But I also fell in love with my husband again, too. And while the basic issue of the frequency of our sexual encounters has been resolved we're still deep into dialogue about why and what we can do to keep it from happening again, because I'd give just about anything to keep from going back to that.
We're also comfortable with having ditched monogamy. I'd love it if he found a lover that excited him as much as mine excited me, and I'm certainly not opposed to finding other possible partners for myself. Sex is fun and enjoyable, and variety is the spice of life. Sure, there are all kinds of arguments about having multiple partners increasing your exposure to the nasty world of STDs and even exposing you to potential violence. Permission to engage in sex with multiple partners doesn't mean permission to act like an idiot. I carry condoms and I make sure there's a supply at home. My partner and I had a discussion about our sexual histories. Flirting is fun, but picking up some random guy in a bar is stupid and not on my list of options.
So, can there be only one? For some people, sure. For my part, I'm glad it's no longer a concern.