Ethical non-monogamy: fireside chats Part 1

PM and I brought the family on our annual camping, nay glamping trip last week. And while there’s always interesting and fun things that I could share that happen over the course of our week, like the pros and cons (okay, mainly cons) of sex in a tiny cabin, the most significant event this year was a conversation about ethical non-monogamy that started in front of the fire pit after the kids had gone to sleep.

What’s ethical non-monogamy, you say? Well, I’ll define it better in a minute, but for now, I’ll define it as agreeing to get sexy with other people while still staying married. Yup. Hot friggin’ stuff.

Our late night fires are one of my favorite parts of our camping trips. Sure, we have a fire earlier in the evening that the kids get to enjoy, s’mores and all. But once the little hellions have been tucked into their beds for the night, PM stokes that fire back up, and we spend the next several hours sitting out there together and talking, among other things.

It’s just a lovely time of reconnecting. On a typical night when we’re home and the kids have gone to sleep, we smoke some weed before heading to the couch for some frisky television watching and eventual fucking. I’ve talked before about our nightly Netflix and chill time. But when we’re on the campground one week a year with its very poor internet service, tv watching isn’t really possible (although we did catch part of a cornhole championship on ESPN2, which was friggin’ hilarious). So we spend most of our night snuggled up in front of the fire pit outside our cabin.

Once the sun goes down, the campground gets quite dark aside from the fires lit on the camping sites, along with a few lights here and there coming from campers or tents. All one can hear is the crackle and roar of one’s own camp-side fire and occasional snatches of murmured conversations coming from nearby campfires. For all intent and purposes, you’re in your own little bubble of warm light in an otherwise dark forest.

Sometimes this feeling of seclusion leads to friskiness. Last year our cabin’s fire pit was situated away from the main throughway, heightening the illusion that PM and I were completely alone and unseen, so, of course, we utilized this for some very sexy times.

Giving PM a blowjob in front of the fire is probably the most public sex act we’ve engaged in since having car sex as teenagers. I felt amazing, naughty, and sexy as hell, and it goes without saying that PM felt pretty friggin’ good, too. *winks*

This year our cabin and fire site was less off the beaten path, so it was easy to feel a little more exposed, even sitting in the dark. Not that this fact stopped us completely. One memorable night found PM assisting me in getting myself off, his hand reaching over to pinch my nipples while I had a hand down my yoga pants. I came hard and had to muffle my scream. It was very hot. *fans herself*

But the most memorable fireside moments this trip were our conversations about how we both felt about the idea of having sex with other people while still being married to each other. And this included past and present feelings about this type of relationship, which is called ethical non-monogamy or ENM.

Six months ago this term was new to me. I had come across it before in passing but had the impression it meant being in a throuple or something like that. The association it conjured for me was a scene from the television series 30 Rock where the young intern Cerie introduces her boyfriends at the office along the lines of I’m dating him, and this other guy is his boyfriend.

So when I read the term ethical non-monogamy in an article, I decided I should probably look it up. Turns out I wasn’t totally wrong. What’s being depicted in that 30 Rock scene can be one form of ENM. But, in fact, it comes in many different forms, the label functioning as an umbrella term to encompass consensual relationships between more than two partners. It could be three people, it could be four, it could be many, many more.

The essential factor in these relationships that makes them ethically non-monogamous is consent. All partners understand and agree to the parameters of the relationship, which are determined by the persons involved.

So a throuple where three people are all dating one another and having sex with one another? ENM. A couple, married or otherwise, who agrees to one or both members of the couple pursuing sexual relationships with other people? Ethical non-monogamy. A couple who allow each other one-night-stands with strangers? Also ENM. Swinging where couples swap partners? Yep, a form of ENM. A single person engaging in multiple relationships simultaneously? Yup — ENM. Threesomes where a couple includes a third person in their sexual activities? Yes again. Those mythical key parties where you show up to a party with your spouse, you each throw a key into a bowl, and keys are drawn out to match you with a random sexual partner for the night? If both members of the couple agreed to it, it would, once again, fall under the umbrella of ethical non-monogamy.

There can be a hierarchy within these ENM partnerships, with one particular relationship within the arrangement being primary — if there’s a couple that’s the main relationship, then that two-person partnership is called a dyad— and any other intimate relationships the primary partnership engages in are secondary. Or all partners in an ENM arrangement can view one another as equal partners.

What ethical non-monogamy is not is cheating. The common definition of cheating is engaging in a romantic or sexual relationship with someone outside your primary partnership without your partner’s consent. Cheating is a form of non-monogamy, sure, but it’s dishonest, a breech of trust, and is therefore not ethical. Ethical non-monogamy insists on open communication and adherence to whatever boundaries have been set by the people involved.

In a past life, my religious-indoctrinated self would have said, “Isn’t this just an excuse to sleep around?” And by “sleep around,” I’d have meant being slutty. But all of this is moralizing, which is problematic.

What’s the problem with assuming people in an ENM are simply slutty or are looking for excuses to have sex with people other than their partners? Well, first off, the term slutty for a person who enjoys sex and/or desires sex with multiple people is bullshit. I mean, it’s just been a way historically to shame people for being comfortable with themselves as sexual beings.

But that aside, I would have been taking a religious moral system that insists on sexual relationships only within marriage (specifically a heterosexual marriage, given my fundamentalist Christian upbringing) and imposing it on other people outside that belief system.

As I’ve gotten older and I’ve met lots of different people in lots of different situations, and having rejected an inflexible conservative religious framework, I don’t believe anyone has the right to impose their belief system on anyone else and judge adults engaging in consensual behaviors. I also no longer believe that maintaining a Christian-based religious framework requires sex to only occur within a marriage relationship (or within a heterosexual context, for that matter).

I’ve come to believe even more strongly over the past few years as I have undertaken this journey of sexual self-discovery (and in many ways a sexual awakening of sorts) on my part, that my Christian beliefs do not demand that sex remain between two people, nor is my religious framework — which uses the Bible as a way of understanding how humanity has strived to connect with the Divine — diametrically opposed to consensually non-monogamous relationships.

Cue the gasps. 🙀 Yep. I consider myself a Christian and I think that it’s okay to get sexy all over town … in an consensually ethical way. And I don’t think I’m rejecting the Bible as my sacred text in doing so. But that’s a whole other topic for another day.

But it is a fact that prevalent human culture is one of compulsory monogamy. Compulsory monogamy culture has at its core the assumption that everyone wants to be partnered with one person, that this monogamous partnership is the most natural state for people, and that our many relationship needs — sexual, romantic, intimacy, domestic, what-have-you — should be fulfilled within that two-person relationship. This compulsive monogamous culture just happens to neatly align with how the Bible has historically been interpreted.

But we shouldn’t be fooled. Religion and cultural forces have always worked hand in hand to maintain order in society. In the past, when marriages were arranged because of economic and procreatory reasons, patriarchal religion took little interest in men and husbands who found sexual fulfillment in arms of women who were not their wives. What mattered was female adherence to sexual norms and marital boundaries, which, of course, ensured that children conceived within a marriage were the biological offspring of the husband and would carry-on the family name and property-ownership.

While the biblical myth of Adam and Eve as the first couple in human history had their sexual relations to produce progeny divinely sanctioned, their nomadic ancestors depicted in other biblical stories had multiple wives and multiple sexual relationships. The Bible itself is inconsistent in how it views sexual norms and relationships, and this is but one example of how texts, ancient or modern, profane or sacred, reflect the culture and context of their authors.

The fact is that whether we’re talking biblical stories or stories from other religious frameworks, religious texts, like any other texts, were written through the lenses of the cultures’ that produced them. These stories reflect the cultural norms of their authors and, at the same time, because of their sacred value, reinforce those norms.

After a decade of doctoral work studying the religious and cultural texts of the ancient Near East, including the Hebrew Bible where we find Adam and Eve, I came to appreciate the reciprocal relationship of culture and religion. I also came to realize how people have misunderstood and misused Judea-Christian texts, insisting that the cultural snapshots contained within their stories and decrees and prohibitions rigidly apply to modern cultures.

The fact is that humans have chosen to come together in varying forms of relationships following our emergence as a unique species. It just happens that most major world religions have insisted on arrangements that historically were made to benefit the male property-owner. And although modern cultures have thrown off many of the shackles of a patriarchal society, monogamy is still the norm. (And as a result, religious texts continue to be interpreted through lenses of compulsory monogamy.)

But all of this does not make monogamy the best or only option. Not for everyone.

Friends of ours have been talking about opening up their marriage, and in this case, it will likely mean an open marriage, which is a form of ENM where a married couple agrees to allow one or both partners the opportunity to pursue sexual relationships with other people.

For our friends, this isn’t born of a desire to sexually experiment or explore kinks, common reasons many couples decide to try an open marriage. The reason that they’re having this conversation at all is that one spouse, the husband, has not been interested in sex for a year. Now there are various reasons for this that have nothing to do with his wife, but as one might imagine, this has been difficult on both parties. But as my friend is the one desiring physical intimacy with a partner who doesn’t have a reciprocal desire, this situation has been painful for my friend, in particular.

With my being close friends with the woman in the relationship, I have been specifically privy to her perspectives and feelings on this intensely emotional time. I can also place myself in her shoes and can at once imagine how my own self-esteem and erotic self would wither under such circumstances. I’m in pain for her.

This couple has not yet made a decision to move forward into ENM, but all of this has certainly brought concepts like ethical non-monogamy to the forefront of my thoughts. And as a result, or perhaps more in parallel to other things going on in PM and my relationship and our ongoing open communication about sex and desire, PM and I have been talking a lot about ENM, the different forms and what, if any, we could imagine for ourselves.

And so, in front of our late-night fire, we talked. And talked.

He knows I have erotic fantasies involving other partners or multiple partners. We’ve talked about it and used these fantasies during sex in varying degrees.

But for the first time ever I’ve been asking myself if I’m more of a polyamorous person. And if maybe I’d be more fulfilled with additional partnerships. I also wonder whether my tendency toward crushes over the course of our 21-year marriage suggests that I might enjoy multiple simultaneous romantic relationships.

Now, don’t misunderstand me. I know that I want PM. There’s no doubt in my mind that I want to be with him, stay married to him, have sex with him, raise our children together, play with our grandchildren together, grow old together. But I also can’t deny that I have a longing deep down to experience something more. I just don’t quite know what that is yet. *exhales*

And so we’ve been talking. It’s a little bit of fantasy and role-play alongside real heart to heart conversations. Some of our discussions have been playful, some have been serious as we talk through some of our own traumas. Psychotherapist Esther Perel, author of Mating in Captivity, famously says, tell me how you were loved as a child, and I’ll tell you how you make love. I have absolutely found this to be true in my own life.

In the past, I’ve asked him if he’d be willing to share me, maybe have a threesome or swing, and the answer has always been a flat No, with really no explanations or further discussions of his feelings on the matter. We might playfully talk through a sex party fantasy or partner swapping, imagining what we’d do, how we’d act and react. But that’s all it’s been. Fantasy. And I can’t help but feel that most of this type of imagining is for my benefit, because he keeps his own thoughts mostly to himself.

But for the first time last week, in front of that campfire, surrounded by still quiet darkness, he opened up a bit to me. And his answers surprised me. And made me angry. And caused me to think and re-examine prior assumptions. (All of these things being reasons why I’m madly in love with this man.) I had all the feels, really.

I asked him that first night, as I stared into the fire, why he won’t share me. I just blurted it out, apropos to nothing.

Why did I start there? I like to push the man’s buttons? I don’t know. *shrugs*

Probably it was just that I was more frustrated than anything with the fact that he hasn’t been willing to share his feelings on any of this. He’s happy to use my erotic fantasies to get me off, but he won’t talk at all about his own erotic thoughts, or how he feels about my own. I can only imagine that he has fantasies involving other people, but he’s been unwilling to give anything away.

So yeah, I was pushing his goddamn buttons. *eyeroll*

But this time he gave me an answer, as cryptic and opaque as it was. And it made me angry…

If you’re curious what he said and how the rest of our discussion went, and all the discoveries we’re now making about ourselves and one another as a result, I’ll continue this topic in my essay next week. Yes! I’m going to make you wait a whole week! *laughs maniacally*

Check back in next Friday 3PM EST to continue following our conversations surrounding the fascinating concept of ethical non-monogamy.

Until next time, stay kinky 😉