I always thought I was non-monogamous, but now I’m in love I feel differently

“Be open to exploring uncomfortable feelings, and pushing the boundaries of vulnerability within yourself and the person you’re dating.”

The other day I was chatting to one of my good friends, Stephen. We’ve known each other for almost 10 years and a lot has changed since we first met. We were talking about our current relationships – we’re both in secure and healthy relationships for the first time in our decade-long friendship – and we were both remarking on how refreshing it is. He told me I seem “more grounded” in myself and in the relationship I’m in. I said I felt the same about him.

We agreed there was no more middle-of-the-night drama, no more insecure ponderings about what we might mean to the other person and no more stress-inducing confusion. I reflected on how far I’d come, through the eyes of someone who’s seen me through chaotic and insecure times.

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It got me thinking about how much we used to talk about non-monogamy. He’s always leaned more on the monogamous side, and I’ve always challenged him with debates about relationship structures and fluidness in general. That’s been my standing within most of my social circles – I’m the curious one who will try different things, and I’m not quick to judge someone who exists within the ‘taboo’. I’ve never felt comfortable putting a label on myself and the kind of romantic relationship fits me best.

But now I’m in love in a new way and non-monogamy suddenly feels like a challenging idea. To imagine my current boyfriend dating other people makes me feel a little queasy. It’s hard to admit because I’ve always retained that sex doesn’t make me jealous. Emotional connection does, but “sex is just sex” – or so I used to say.

My boyfriend and I just got back from a weekend in the country where we had no cell phone reception and heaps of conversations about feelings and sex. This led to some of the most intense intimacy we’ve ever had. I don’t think I knew what true physical vulnerability felt like until literally the past 48 hours. This entire relationship has caught me by surprise, from the bravery to communicate uncomfortable feelings to the noises I make during our sex and the calm quiet I’ve found inside myself that I didn’t know existed.

These are beautiful things, yes – but my shift in feeling towards monogamy makes me feel a little guilty. Like, have I been into monogamy all along? Was love all that was missing? Am I as predictable as the relationships I previously discarded? I guess I feel like a bit of a hypocrite.

Here I’ve been existing loudly and proudly, preaching sexual liberation as the key to not feeling trapped in a relationship. I believed we all needed a little more leniency to explore our sexuality and to push the boundaries within a relationship. When I left home at 17 it was because I felt trapped, and every friendship and relationship since that has made me feel that way no longer exists in my life.

But ever since the start of this relationship, I’ve been feeling a little different. It’s not that I don’t want to be sexually free and push the boundaries – it’s that I don’t want to do it alone. For the first time in a relationship, I understand the feeling of wanting to grow, explore and evolve together. This whole time, I’ve assumed I was the different one – but maybe it was the type of relationship dynamic I was chasing.

In past relationships, I always felt this craving for independence. I’ve never wanted to be defined by a label, by a structure that is decided for me. I want to make my own rules, in both my life and in my relationships. If I meet someone I want to kiss, I want the ability to kiss them because it feels freeing, and might teach me something about myself.

I guess it also stems from being into both men and women. Pansexuality makes dating hard because there’s always more to explore past your own relationship – the opportunities for exploration feel boundless. In the past, I felt protective over these experiences; like I wanted them to be purely mine and for my eyes and pleasure only. I think I felt like I hadn’t properly figured myself out, so I didn’t want to bring someone else in. But now, that doesn’t matter.

I’m definitely not all figured out, but I do feel like I want to share those experiences. That desire is new to me. It feels closer to some modern version of monogamy. About six months into our relationship, I gave my current boyfriend a threesome for his birthday. That was an experience that lives in my memory with true pleasure and joy – it made our relationship stronger and frankly, it was hot to see him make out with someone else.

But it was an experience that I orchestrated for us. It was with someone I know well, in an environment of my choosing, and the communication was super strong. This allowed for the entire experience to be freeing and empowering for our relationship, and for us separately. While that might not be considered monogamy in the traditional sense, to me it feels more like something more committed and together than relationships I’ve been in in the past.

It’s ironic that I’m feeling more committed to something traditional than ever before, but am also open to being more experimental within the relationship itself. In past non-monogamous relationships, I didn’t feel comfortable engaging in exploration within the relationships, like threesomes. Maybe it’s not that I’m more into monogamy than ever before, but I’m just experiencing what a trusting relationship with good communication feels like.

Not only do I feel free and confident to bring other people into the bedroom with us, but I feel more comfortable to explore within our own sex. For the first time ever, I feel comfortable asking for what I want in the bedroom. I don’t get that cringe feeling before I ask for something I want mid-sex, and that in itself is liberating.

The other night, we had a bit of a party night with some friends and ended up back at my house in the early hours of the morning. The conversation turned to relationships. My friends – knowing that I’ve been experimental with relationship structures in the past – asked where we were at with our relationship. “Are you guys open?” My friend’s husband asked.

My boyfriend and I looked at each other. “No,” we said. We’re not open when it comes to sex, but we’re always open to a conversation. No one’s desires are ever going to be judged, but we currently don’t desire anyone except each other. And it feels really good. It feels uncomplicated, and kind of like a relief.

For my entire adult life, I’ve struggled to understand the reality of dating or sleeping with just one person, with no curiosity outside of that. It felt like a losing game; like at some point, we’d need to open up the relationship and give ourselves what we need outside of each other. Or that maybe I was just, inevitably, never going to find a relationship to satiate me ‘forever’.

But in those relationships, I wasn’t having so many open conversations about everything, especially sex. I didn’t feel safe to open up and be myself fully; there were still parts of me I was trying to hide in an attempt to be more attractive or seem ‘cool’.

Now I’m 28, and this relationship that makes monogamy feel not only achievable but desired. If you’d told me I’d feel this way at 21, I wouldn’t have believed you. The intimate parts of the world I’ve seen – husbands cheating on their wives, women falling in love with each other, my sexuality shifting in unexpected ways, the power of flirtation and the currency of hope – had me convinced there was no way monogamy was an honest pathway for me.

But as it turns out, you can have all your sexual fantasies come true with one person. You can be as equally curious and independent as your partner, and that freedom makes relationship structures feel kind of easy. I still think we should fight for the relationship structure we want. I don’t think I would be in this position now if I hadn’t been so hungry for exploration and freedom in past relationships.

Although monogamy is how my partner and I exist in this relationship now, it’s not your house-in-the-suburbs kind of monogamy. We make time to talk about how we feel during sex, what we want to try and what we feel insecure about. We have conversations about our past experiences, how they made us feel and whether we’d ever like to relive them.

We talk about our current desires that may exist outside of the relationship, and we give each other the freedom to talk them out. I still feel incredibly free, despite being in a relationship. The key is to talk. Talk without judgment, without taking on someone else’s desires as a fault within yourself.

Be open to exploring uncomfortable feelings, and pushing the boundaries of vulnerability within yourself and the person you’re dating. You’ll find the capacity is limitless. And, if you’re not feeling safe to do this, perhaps the relationship you’re in isn’t destined for monogamy. And that’s totally okay.

For more on different relationship structures, head here.