The Risk Of Monogamy

Photo of me taken by my husband, Liam (April 2026)

I have lost track of how many times curious women have finished their glasses of wine, and then asked me if non-monogamy is a threat to my marriage. Their skepticism is understandable, and they cannot help their curiosity. Whenever I hear this question, memories flash before my eyes of all of the incredible and erotic and connective moments that my husband and I would have missed out on together if we chose not to take ‘the risk’.

There are risks to many meaningful paths in life, but that doesn’t necessarily mean we should avoid those risks, and risk missing out on the life that calls us.

For me, the riskier relationship structure is monogamy.

Not because there is anything wrong with it, but when looking at it through my perspective, the structure of monogamy is inherently weak. The confines of monogamy are simply too flimsy to hold us and our marriage. Sure, my husband and I ‘could’ be monogamous, but it would come at the cost of turning a light off to a world of shared adventure, personal freedoms, and experiences that are specific to non-monogamy.

The very notion of ‘this is the only person that I will ever be with again’, does not sound ‘special’ or appealing to me, instead it feels like a cage enclosing in on my sexual self. Not because I am wild, or have a million lovers or am addicted to dating, but simply because it is not a philosophy that resonates with me.

With non-monogamy working so well for us for over 13 years now, I don’t have any interest in taking the risk of trying monogamy.

A monogamous relationship where two people fully focus their sexual expression solely onto one another would have me slowly walking towards an abyss, potentially void of eroticism. The over-familiarity of building a life with someone and being so intensely tied together without any external sexual energy feels unsexy.

Not because of the physicality of ‘the sex’ but because of the mental closing down of compersion and the many fun, imaginative psychological games that my husband and I love to play with one another. Games that thrive off the fact that we are non-monogamous.

The story of the couple that are in a sexless, unimaginative marriage is so common in our society, it is almost expected that that is the way that a marriage will eventually be? It is the common trope in endless movies. It is the social norm, and whilst some people put it down to a lack of connection due to the kids and the business of life, which of course is an influencing factor for certain life chapters, perhaps it might also be the structure of the relationship that drains any sense of wonder and adventure? Of course I want security in my marriage, but I believe that we can also not be woefully indifferent to our spouse in the meantime. Where is the space for desire to grow when you know everything about one another? Taking one another for granted is not skipped over so easily in non-monogamy.

An aspect of non-monogamy that I love is that my husband is his own erotic being. It is his freedom that turns me on. It is my freedom that turns him on. Him having his own sexual agency sparks my desire to chase him. Even though I know that he is ‘mine’ in so many ways, not fully owning him drives me crazy. It’s the basic law of eroticism. The taboo of us allowing one another these freedoms feeds right into our attractions for one another. Desire, ‘hindered’ by an obstacle ( not owning one another) creates eroticism.

The fact that I cannot fully own his erotic story, drives me crazy, in the hottest way. Desiring my husband like this does not diminish our relationship, or steal from our ‘specialness’. If anything, we feel more connected because we get to build our commitment and marriage from the ground up. Our love and connection has not been prebuilt by the social norms that move around us.

Sitting alongside my lightly sceptical views of monogamy also exists the reality that if my husband asked for us to go back to monogamy, I would. Non-monogamy is such a joyful part of who he is, so much so that for him to want to stop being non-monogamous would be telling of deeper issues that were at play. Him asking for monogamy would be a symptom of something else, and perhaps that ‘something else’ might be an internal change. But for me, to stand by him through that change is what a committed relationship is about. Ultimately, it is not about the structure. It is about evolving together as we change and grow and age.

My relationship with Liam and our family comes first. Before monogamy or non-monogamy. The relationship structure is secondary to us and what we both need. It is about care and love. After so many years of being open, if my husband wanted to be closed, I would listen to his reasons and adjust for him.

Dan Savage speaks of ‘the price of admission’ in long term relationships, and for me, closing our relationship would be a ‘no brainer’ price to pay to witness life by my husband’s side. If we were ever to be monogamous, it could only ever be a conscious choice because of who we are and how we live our lives. Our monogamy would hold many considered reasons beyond a default.

Imagining my husband wanting to be monogamous would be such a shock, almost like losing him to a cult. His cheeky, flirtatious and wickedly smart nature thrives in our non-monogamous relationship. Our endless compersive texts and decade long ‘in jokes’ with one another are part of the fabric that make us- ‘us’. Who would my husband be if he was monogamous?

Who would I be?

The mere thought of him declaring monogamy presents a type of unknown that I would prefer not to meet, but would show up for if our circumstances changed. Simply because I love him, in the deepest way that someone loves ‘their person’.

Change might be inevitable, but in the meantime, we will continue to blast one another with our compersive messages and take pleasure in the reality that we still don’t fully own one another’s sexual self.

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