I’m in a Mono/Poly Relationship and I Feel Guilty About It

But that doesn’t mean it’s wrong

The best part of my last online fling was the first night I had phone sex with him.

It wasn’t just my first time doing it with him — it was my first time ever doing it at all.

It was incredible. I felt shy and embarrassed but still sexy. I felt desired and wanted. I felt liberated and horny as fucking hell.

The phone sex was shockingly good. Even though I was touching myself, it felt like I was being covered by his words and the sounds he was making. It’s like he was with me and I was channeling him through my fingers.

It took me so long to recover from the orgasm that it was like I had been fucked nice and hard.

Everything about it was amazing.

Well, almost everything.

My husband was at home the whole time. That’s a surprisingly normal part of our relationship — I do all my flirting, cyberfucking, and masturbating while he’s somewhere in the house.

But this time, it happened in the evening.

Mr. Austin had just finished putting the kids to bed, and I texted him to let him know. “It’s finally happening.” I typed out those words feeling bouncy with excitement and weirdly guilty about the whole situation.

Here I was, locked up in our bedroom so I could masturbate over the phone with a guy I had been hitting on. Meanwhile, he was milling around downstairs, trying to figure out how to pass the time we would normally spend together.

He wrote back almost immediately. “Nice! Get it, girl!”

That helped me feel better about the whole thing, so I went back to my dirty messages.

I only looked at the clock again when it was all over and I was getting a little bit of aftercare by text.

It was later than I realized. It was more than an hour past the time my husband would normally be snoring next to me in bed.

I was still coming down from the high I had just experienced when I started feeling like I really fucked up his whole evening.

We hung out when he came to bed. We talked it over. I told him how it went. I answered all his questions. And I did it all while realizing that I had kind of pushed him aside so I could have a good time.

This was supposed to be fun. Now I worried it wouldn’t be.

What Our Deal Is

I love finding out what a couple’s deal is. What’s their relationship like? What kind of arrangement do they have? How open are they?

Our deal is that we’re mono/poly. I’m polyamorous, but my husband is monogamous.

This was a relatively recent revelation for me because I spent most of my life assuming I was monogamous.

I don’t fall for people very often. My crushes are few and far in between, so they almost never overlapped. I never had to call my feelings into question because my attraction for one person usually didn’t compete with my attraction for someone else.

At the same time, there’s something about having multiple partners or having sex outside my relationship that just kind of made sense to me.

That felt abstract, though. I was married and there wasn’t anyone else I was interested in pursuing. So, other than a fascination with polyamorous relationships and sort of getting the whole sister wife thing, it didn’t really change anything.

But then my husband and I watched a video about polyamory and I wasn’t just fascinated by it. A lot of the attitudes felt like mine.

That started a long conversation between the two of us. And the more we talked about it, the more strongly I felt that I could love more than one person without cheapening my existing relationship. And sex doesn’t feel like something that has to be shared exclusively with my partner, unless we agreed to it.

We had kind of agreed to it, but that changed. My husband was very supportive and encouraged me to embrace that side of myself. If I wanted to have romantic relationships with other people, that was fine by him.

What really surprised me, though, is that he didn’t want the same privileges.

The best way to describe Mr. Austin is probably to say that he’s ambiamorous. He’s capable of being polyamorous or mongamous.

When we first met, he leaned heavily into the whole open relationship thing. He liked bonding and making connections with other people, and he didn’t see why those friendships shouldn’t have some romantic elements to them. Some of his close friendships had a sexual edge to them, even if it never turned to actual fucking.

But when we decided to settle, he was fine with closing up and being exclusive. And at this point in his life, he doesn’t really see a point in opening up again.

His definition of monogamy is a little bit loose.

Obviously, it includes letting his wife date and fuck other people. He’s also open to group sex with me involved and he kind of likes the idea of us dating someone as a couple, though neither of us can figure out how it would work logistically.

But when I bring up the idea of him pursuing other women, he shrugs and says “I’d rather just make friends.”

And that’s how I found myself in a mono/poly relationship.

It should be the best scenario imaginable. I have the freedom to kiss and fuck whoever I want and I don’t have to worry about feeling insecure, jealous, or upset because of who my husband is pursuing.

But it didn’t work out that way. Instead of hitting the relationship jackpot, I spent a lot of time feeling bad about it.

Sometimes, I Wish We Were in This Together

I don’t cry very often, but I did it more when I got involved with other guys.

Some of that was their fault. I seem to have a knack for finding the ones who will dick me around emotionally.

But most of it was because I had an overwhelming sense that I was fucking up.

Opening up a relationship is a lot of work. If your version of non-monogamy involves romance and relationships on top of all the extra sex, you have to be emotionally open with multiple people, find ways to meet their competing needs, and figure out how to be present with one partner without making the other feel left out.

Shaking up an established relationship is tricky, too. I was taking something firm and messing with it. And already, I felt like I was trying to keep a wobbly Jenga tower from collapsing.

How was I supposed to get excited about a new crush without making my husband feel boring?

What’s the right way to pull out all the stops for someone new and going the extra mile to attract them and not make my husband feel like I’m taking him for granted?

And is there any way to make room for someone new in my life without them feeling like the relationship we’re creating will never be as important to me as my marriage?

That’s difficult no matter how you do it, but at least if we were both actively polyamorous, it would be something we’re doing together. We’d be facing the same challenges and managing the same feelings. There might still be some imbalances, but they’d never feel this big.

The first time I started flirting with another man, it made me feel like a new person. I felt like I could be the sexy version of myself with him — not the mom who has to deal with screaming children all day.

I’d get lost in my email exchanges with him. I eagerly read every sentence that came in. I typed out my fantasies in long replies. I waited impatiently for the notification so I could go back to my inbox for more.

And then Mr. Austin would walk into the room and reality would hit me.

I felt conflicted. I wanted to go back to those emails, but I felt like I should give my husband some attention, too.

I don’t feel that way with friends, but this was different and I couldn’t tell why.

Was he acting a little off when he walked into the middle of one of my horny email exchanges? Was he annoyed when I heard the notification and dropped everything?

Was I projecting my guilty feelings on him?

Or was it a little bit of both?

That made me feel guilty enough, but then came all the talks.

I expected my husband to have some insecurities when I started cyberfucking some dude. I knew we’d have to talk it through.

I just didn’t realize we’d be spending so much time doing it.

Most things went by smoothly, but then we’d hit a bump and it would turn into a whole thing.

I knew I had daddy issues, but opening up my marriage showed me that my husband has mommy issues, too. And a lot of what I did pressed down hard on his emotional baggage.

He was worried about us, about our future, and what all this meant.

He often felt left out. He sometimes felt rejected but told me he couldn’t figure out exactly what triggered it.

He felt less desirable. He saw how I was acting with the new guys I was crushing on and it was obvious to both of us that he just doesn’t make me feel the same way anymore.

He makes me feel great, amazing, wonderful, loved, turned on, grateful, and cared for. But the attention, validation, and energy you get from a new person just hits different.

We both knew it would. He just didn’t expect how hard it would be for him to handle.

And when it was hard for him to handle, I couldn’t handle it either. Not gracefully, anyway.

He kept reiterating that he had to work through his insecurities and get some reassurance from me.

And I just didn’t know how to do that. I felt like I was already giving all the reassurance I could. It was frustrating that I would give him everything I could and it still didn’t feel like it was enough.

So, I would break down and cry.

I didn’t know how to manage all of this and I felt completely overwhelmed.

Every time anything bothered him, I felt like I had done something wrong.

I worried I had made a huge mistake. I worried I had fucked things up and my relationship would never recover.

I worried that the only way to avoid feeling all this horrible guilt was to go back to being monogamous.

And I felt even guiltier when the thought of giving up my open relationship made me sad.

Some days, I wanted to nudge him out of his comfort zone. I wanted to encourage him to pursue other people, to go find some girl to crush on, to get online and exchange dirty photos and naughty text messages with someone cute.

I knew that wouldn’t be easy. I’d definitely have some insecurities, too. I’d need some of that reassurance my husband was craving. It might even be worse because I think he would probably end up dating and fucking someone in person — my husband’s a homebody but he has enough confidence to go out and meet people.

But at least then it would feel even. I could enjoy the possibilities, the fantasies, and the hope that come with an open relationship without feeling like it’s one-sided.

In the end, I’m not even sure if this is the right thing for me.

Sometimes, I want to retreat back to the simplicity of monogamy. Narcissists, fuckbois, and emotionally unavailable people make that option look really appealing.

I can see myself settling into domestic bliss and great sex and just letting go of all the messiness that comes with dating other people. And maybe posting some anonymous nudes online when I’m craving a bit of attention from someone new.

But I’m also aware that all it would take is a new crush to change my mind.

It happens very rarely. I have enough fingers to count how many crushes I’ve had in my lifetime. So, when I have one, it’s intense.

If I met a person who gives me those nice, warm feelings, I’d be tempted to shake this all up again, grit my teeth through all the bad feelings, and see what happens.

Lately, I also find myself fantasizing about a more casual approach. Not really starting a new relationship, but opening up with people we know well. Threesomes with a close friend, wife swapping with a couple we like, playing around together — that sort of thing.

I’m not sure what is going to happen, but no matter what it is, I’m confident we’ll be okay. We’re solid, no matter what kind of relationship we decide to have.

In the end, we’ll find and settle into the right kind of relationship for us. I’m not in a rush to figure it out. I’m not dating or actively looking for someone else. But I’m still open for something to happen. I’ll let life come at me, and if that life takes the form of another partner who wants to have a real, healthy, and loving relationship, even better.

And if that comes, hopefully I can embrace it and enjoy it without feeling too much guilt.

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