Whether open or monogamous, all relationships are defined by rules. Rules, promises, vows even. Now in a monogamous setup there’s usually only one rule: Don’t fuck or fall in love with or flirt or fool around with anyone who isn’t me. It’s an easy rule to follow. And it’s an easy rule to break.
In an open relationship, rules are a little different. Their contents, and your relationship to them as a couple, is open season. Now I’ve slept with people who are deeply strict about their rules; I’ve heard of people sharing Excel spreadsheets with new prospective partners detailing each and every rule they abide by; and I’ve heard of people with no rules whatsoever.
I fall in between: The rules of my relationship are evolving, the central ones being “try to welcome change” and “be generous.” It sounds really vague, but when applied to the other rules, it means we can have generous conversations about the unruliness of human emotions.
When my husband and I first went open, he and I had a “you can’t sleep with someone more than three times” rule. And it worked, for a while. But eventually I met someone who asked me on a fourth date. A fourth date on which I wanted to go. The sex was good, my emotions were in check, and he was fit. Of course, the fear of me leaving my partner after three dates—which is why we made the rule in the first place—now seemed completely absurd. Three dates versus nine years. And so when we talked about this fourth date, it seemed like a no-brainer. In fact it allowed us to be both realistic about what it was we’d built together, and the very real fear of one of us leaving the other.
A fourth date with Hot Guy turned into a whole summer, and while there was never any danger of my leaving my primary partner, the situation neared the edges of our next rule: “Don’t fall in love with anyone else.” And so, after many measured discussions (and some not so), I ended the relationship with Really Hot Summer Guy.
It was in this process of exploring, of stretching and bending the rules, that we formulated new rules in our relationship. We met each different feeling and emotion with our two central rules in mind: “be generous” and “try to welcome change.” Change takes time, and generosity takes understanding. And so we talked, we questioned, we fought a little, and we even went to bed angry.
We learned—we’re learning—that rules are context specific, and that we don’t have to have the same emotional response to everything: He might be calm about something I might be jealous of, and vice versa. But with each different scenario came opportunity for deeper understanding about our fears, our desires, and areas of our relationship that maybe need more care. It’s always, as it should be, a work in progress.
When I first started down the route of open relationships, it all seemed so odd. So many rules, both boring and fussy. Seems like a rather unromantic paradox to me. And yet I’ve found the formulation, and continued evolution, of the rules in my relationship to be one of the most healthy and invigorating things about it. Now we are required to discuss the terms of our relationship with each other; now we must speak on our real desires because the stakes are higher if we don’t. Now we talk about dating others, the sex we’ve had, the sex we want to have with each other as a result of the sex we’ve had, as well as talking about how bad the Wi-Fi connection is in our bedroom and why the fridge keeps freezing everything.
In previously monogamous relationships, I often found that bringing up the rules of our entanglement could incite a complicated conversation that felt more like I was questioning both the relationship and monogamy itself. I probably was, and I perhaps think that my monogamous relationships could have benefited from questioning too: to ensure it was really right for us both, to ensure its maintenance. It ended because we both cheated. Although that cheating was symptomatic of incompatible desire and incompatible experiences of jealousy. And really it was in an inability to, or an avoidance of, talking about the structures of our relationship that it became brittle. If we can’t ask questions of something, is it structurally sound at all?
An open relationship isn’t for everyone. At times the rules are fun, at times they are laborious. At times you wish you hadn’t set a rule, and at times there is hurt when one person read the letter of the rule and another lived the spirit. But we must continue to grow toward each other in all of our various relationships: to understand that words and rules and definitions can only ever do half the work in describing feelings, desires, entanglements.
Now one of my favorite conversations to have on dates is about their rules, my rules, how we all came up with them, how we manage them. It’s sort of like gossip, but about your own sex life. Trust is a nebulous thing, and something very easy to lose but very hard to regain. It takes a lot of work, a lot of thought, respect, and care to nourish something that is at once so fragile and capable of bearing the weight of complicated emotions.
Rules and promises help us to maintain and further this trust. Yes, I might be sleeping with someone else, but if this sex is happening inside a set of rules created with my partner, then the sex with another person in fact becomes irrelevant. The trust lies in the rules. Some people’s rules are to break every rule. And still, the same ends—trust—are achieved.