Watching Them

On My Side Of The Bed

May 09, 2025

Photo taken of me by my husband, Liam (2023)

I yawned and blinked as the windows of our bedroom slowly sharpened into focus. Suddenly aware of the warm morning light spilling onto our bed, I noticed my husband had his back to me, spooning her.

She had stayed the night.

Flashbacks from the night before flooded my waking mind. Her hands clutched at Liam’s chest as she leaned down, her lips hovering above his before surrendering to his kiss. Then him flipping her onto her back as she looked at me with playful eyes.

Watching their connection unfold tapped into something primal within me. The year was 2016, and I had recently read about the word compersion. As a feeling of pulsing pleasure flooded my body, I recognised this sensation as an erotic expression of it. Sharing my husband with her was exhilarating. I felt possessive and generous all at once.

He was my husband and her lover.

I reached for my phone to check the time. It was almost 7 am. I had two messages from my mum: “I just checked the weather in New York; it looks like it will be a very hot day. Do people wear sunscreen over there, or is that not a New York thing to do? Love, Mum.”

Reading my mother’s words pulled me further away from the memories of the night before.

I peeked over Liam’s shoulder to see him spooning her. She looked perfect in his arms, her soft blonde hair falling gently across her face. His leg was woven through hers, just as it would be with mine. I wondered if this was also how we looked as we slept, as I realized that no one had ever witnessed us in this state of sleep.

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As I observed them together, a new feeling of unease crept through me.

While everything was fine, I could feel a discomfort as I continued to watch her lying there in my husband’s arms, on my side of the bed. Watching them embrace as they slept somehow made me feel like an outsider, observing something deeply intimate. Seeing her on my side of the bed, in my husband’s arms, was almost like glimpsing an alternate life where she was in my place.

I rested my back down onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. Jealous feelings now filled me, followed by shame for my apparent lack of compersion. Why was it that I felt warm and welcoming to her sleeping with my husband but felt uncomfortable at the thought of them actually sleeping together? I couldn’t make sense of it but felt that this somehow felt more intimate. I glanced over at my husband’s back, a feeling of resentment towards him now beginning to take over.

The emotions felt hot and strong as I bounced out of bed, hoping to wake them both. I headed to the bathroom and ran the shower. This somehow upset me more. Now they were truly alone together in our marital bed, and I wasn’t included at all. What was wrong with me? Why was I being so negative about this? Last night had been so deeply enjoyable for us all.

She was the one who had suggested going home to give us space, and it was ME who had welcomed and convinced her to stay the night, if that was what she wanted to do. Making people feel comfortable in our space was something I had always valued.

As the water from the shower washed over my body, I yearned for it to wash away these unwelcome jealous feelings as well. I felt like my personality was split in two.

When I headed back into the bedroom, I saw that they were awake.

“Liam was just telling me about how you two met. You two are such a beautiful couple. Thank you so much for having me here and for letting me stay the night.”

I smiled back at her. Her warm and genuine nature brought comfort to my fears while also triggering another layer of shame for having had them in the first place.

“Of course. I really wanted you to stay the night, and I would love to make you breakfast if you have time?” I smiled back at her.

“I don’t have time for breakfast, but that doesn’t mean I can’t stay a little longer…” she replied with the same cheeky smile she had frequently given me the night before.

There it was again… compersion.

She stretched and arched her body as her breasts lifted from under the sheets. Liam was now kissing her neck. I wanted them to be together again. I didn’t care if I was involved or not; having a front seat to their connection was fulfilling in a way that banished any and all of my jealous feelings that had bothered me since waking.

As I felt the compersion hit me again, I longed for more of her in our space. I wanted to go to the farmer’s markets with her. I wanted her to watch movies with us. I didn’t want this moment to end, and I didn’t want her to leave. She was wonderful. I also had an awareness that alongside these longings for a deeper emotional and entwined connection with her was the reality that I was still swaying rapidly on the jealousy/compersion pendulum.

It wouldn’t be fair to bring her into our connection in an emotionally intense way, and simply desiring something more, in that moment, did not translate to me having the emotional capacity and elasticity for it to become a reality.

I didn’t even know if I wanted to be in a polyamorous marriage, even though this connection felt like it could easily pivot into a polyamorous space.

I decided to get out of my head and into my body and slid into bed with them.

An hour later, she was kissing us both goodbye at the door.

“Thanks again for having me stay the night; you two are so special.”

“It was actually a first for us to have anyone stay overnight,” I replied with a bashful smile.

“Wow, I would never have known. I would love to hear how you felt about that if you would like to share next time we hang out?” She smiled at me with an intuitive compassion. She was far more experienced with non-monogamy than we were, and her subtle recognition of how this might have felt significant and edgy for me felt reassuring somehow.

Perhaps I wasn’t a bad person for holding such extreme emotions within such a short timeframe.

Perhaps this was all part of the experience.

I was yet to unpack and find meaning in what those intense emotions meant for me—my jealousy, my compersion, my wanting her close while also wanting her gone—paired with my desire to grow a deeper friendship and connection with her. What I did begin to understand throughout this was that her acknowledgement of it being a significant moment for me was okay, perhaps even normal.

It was okay to feel uncomfortable while staying kind. It was okay to feel the stretch of my growing marriage as it began to shift and open. The look in her eyes told me that this was all part of the process; it wasn’t good or bad. It just was.

Nobody had done anything wrong.

Nobody was misled or treated poorly.

I was simply wading into the waters of a new type of emotional and relational awareness that was rich with a beauty and complexity that had never been modelled or shown to me before.

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