Reconsidering Non-Monogamy

When I was young, I assumed I would get married–it was a question of when, not if. And I assumed the marriage would look pretty similar to all the ones I saw around me: kids, suburbs, a sort of genial affection with my husband, if I were lucky. I think these are pretty common assumptions for a young child to make, particularly growing up in Oklahoma in the 80s.

It didn’t take long for me to start pushing back, though. By middle school, I could hop on a feminist soapbox about women automatically staying home with the kids. By high school, I was rolling my eyes HARD at my Catholic school’s “Christian Living” class assignment to plan our weddings. By college, I wasn’t sure I wanted kids; by my mid-twenties, I was sure I didn’t. By 30, I was meh on the idea of marriage–a long-term partnership would work just fine.

The one thing that hasn’t changed is my desire for a monogamous relationship. To be fair, I didn’t even think of non-monogamy as an option until I moved to New York four years ago. At that point, it popped up in the occasional dating profile. Now I see “ethically non-monogamous” or “polyamorous” or some variation thereof in probably 10-15% of the profiles I come across. It’s officially a Thing, another riptide in the already tempestuous contemporary urban dating scene.

But for the past four years, I’ve been swiping left on all of them. It hasn’t mattered what they look like, how compatible they might be, how much they might also dream of going to dinner together but reading different books at the table–if they don’t want monogamy, it’s a hard left swipe.

Since I’m traveling for the year now, though, I’ve relaxed my restrictions. It doesn’t really matter what they want long-term; I’m only in town for the month. The checklist has basically been distilled to: A) cute and B) somewhat interesting. Which is how I ended up on a date with a non-monogamous French Canadian staying in Prague for two nights after he went to a goth festival in Leipzig.

Yeah, you can read that sentence again. I couldn’t make it up if I tried. 

Jean-Pierre* and I spent two evenings together…maybe 12 hours in total. So while I still don’t know what it would be like to be in a non-monogamous relationship, they were 12 damn good hours, and they’ve got me thinking.

The first crack in my monogamy wall came a couple years ago when I met an American guy in Montreal: Kyle. He was hot and brilliant, I was into it, we had a nice text thing going, and then he told me he’s polyamorous. (I’m going to leave the vocabulary lesson for someone else–at this point in history, different people tend to define these words differently, and they all seem to have unique practices. Ask for specifics before proceeding is my general advice.) Kyle and I were never meant to be for many reasons, perhaps most importantly that he wasn’t really into me like that (we’re friends now; hi, Kyle, hope you like your fake name), but he was the first person who made me question whether monogamy is really a deal breaker for me.

The second crack came when I had coffee with an acquaintance about a year ago, and when the talk turned to romance, as it usually does, she told me she’d been single for a long time, but she’d recently started dating someone with whom she was really happy. She said something along the lines of, “He’s not monogamous–he has a girlfriend who’s his primary partner. And I never thought I’d date someone like that; I wasn’t looking for that. But I’ve never felt so cared for in any other relationship.” 

A number of tiny hairline cracks followed. Each profile I read in which a guy seemed great EXCEPT…another minuscule crack emerged. I read Sex at Dawn and found their argument fascinating, even if I thought they overreached with their conclusion. Essentially, they counter the traditional evolutionary psychology/anthropological argument that we’re hardwired for monogamy, and the evidence is compelling. I think our current social context presents a different issue, but I recommend the read.

In contemplating Kyle, I reasoned that I don’t think you get everything you want out of life. Particularly in my case, it’s possible that I want contradictory things. A lot of men who don’t want kids also don’t want to be monogamous–they view children as the only reason to consider monogamy. And there’s a reason why 10-15% of the profiles I see feature non-monogamous men, while you may never have encountered one–I’m looking for someone highly educated, very liberal, and urban, which increases the odds. So maybe in order to get everything else I’m looking for in a man, I might have to compromise on the monogamy front.

But Jean-Pierre made me question where the qualitative difference really lies. Sure, the sex was as amazing as you’d think it would be (though anyone who’s banged your average finance bro knows that quantity does not necessarily translate into skill). But the truly amazing part of the encounter is that he exhibited more genuine interest in my life in two nights than most guys do in two months. He memorized my friends’ names and personalities, he learned a bit about my family, he was respectful and considerate. He sent thoughtful and appreciative follow up messages. 

I’ve dated lots of men who society would say were the better choice because they were ostensibly looking for monogamous partnerships. Most of them were dicks.

And I know what my mom, if she ignored my advice and is reading this post anyway, is thinking: “Non-monogamy is just a way for men to have their cake and eat it, too.” Well…to be fair, I also like cake. 

But tongue-in-cheek pithiness aside, I think I still ultimately want monogamy. I’m a Scorpio; I’m possessive and jealous as hell. But you never know–there seem to be as many flavors of non-monogamy as there are Ben and Jerry’s; maybe I’ll find one I like. Regardless of whether it works out in the long run, though, I think I’m ready to stop automatically ruling out these men. If I see a guy who looks intriguing, regardless of his relationship proclivities, I’m swiping right.

*all names changed