This Fight Feels Different

Chronicle of an Open Marriage #7

When I suggested my husband seek sex outside the marriage, we were both at the end of our rope. It seemed like we’d been having the same fight over and over for decades. It felt like we were well and truly done.

But both of us are… I don’t know the word. Luddites? Emotionally conservative? Not into taking wild rides or big risks? None of those terms really do us justice. They all sound so negative. And when you decide to open your marriage, that can hardly be described as a conservative choice.

I’ve read about the world having two types of people: those who like to travel, and those who like to stay home. That seems a little closer to the essence of it. We both like to stay home. I’d rather get to know one place deeply than glance over 100 different scenes, no matter how marvelous.

Love for an anti-romantic

For me, the decision to stay in a marriage that wasn’t fully working stemmed from a kind of anti-romanticism. I don’t really believe in “falling” in love, and can honestly say that I never have. Those fluttery feelings people associate with “falling?” I classify them as a crush, and sure, I’ve had crushes. They are temporary, flighty things. Chemical or energetic. They come, and they go, with the emphasis on go. No one remains in crush mode year after year.

But love? For me, love is like digging in a garden. Turning the soil with a heavy shovel, getting dirty, breaking a sweat. Planting that precious seed deep down in the earth’s dark, loamy heart. Waiting and waiting. Watering. Fertilizing. Waiting some more for your flower, or vegetable, to grow. And maybe it will come up beautiful and healthy and robust. Or maybe it will be beset by insects or weeds. Then you must pull the weeds. Chase off the insects. But be gentle to your plant in the process. Try hard to understand what your precious plant needs.

As an anti-romantic, it goes without saying that I don’t subscribe to the whole “soulmate” thing. I imagine I could probably love any number of individual people, given time. But I haven’t got unlimited time. None of us do. So how would tossing out a relationship I’ve been nurturing for years serve me?

Love isn’t something that happens to me; it’s something I do. Developing my capacity to love my partner is a sacred labor on my road to enlightenment. And when I encounter problems, they are heroic tests; If I can overcome them, I will be rewarded with deeper consciousness.

So that’s me. That’s why I’ve stayed in our less-than-optimum marriage for a long, long time. For him? It’s probably because he’s shy. Starting a new relationship would be harder for him than for most other people. Also, maybe, he loves me? I don’t know… I hope so.

The merits of trying something new

But anyway, in the heat of what felt like the same old argument, I threw out the new idea of opening our marriage, and my husband scooped it up. He’s had a few dates with other people so far. There were a few reasons that underlay my suggestion. I wrote about my reasoning and our early experiences here, and here, and etc.

At the same time that we opened the marriage, we signed up for marriage counseling. I picked a counselor who had suggested opening the marriage to a client, so I knew he wouldn’t condemn our choice. That was important to me, because I truly wanted to try this. It wasn’t just a sop I was throwing to my husband. I wanted to see if this would do the trick — be the magic fertilizer that would finally make my plant thrive.

Love is like digging in a garden. Turning the soil with a heavy shovel, getting dirty, breaking a sweat. Planting that precious seed deep down in the earth’s dark, loamy heart. Waiting and waiting.

And so far, it seems to be working. We’re more open, and loving, and sexual with each other since Hubs has been seeing other people for sex. I don’t really understand why that is happening. I only know that it is.

Into the weeds

Then just the other day, about a month and a half into the open marriage experiment, we began another fight. We might still be in the midst of it. I’m not really sure. Hubs explained how he was feeling about a few things I had done, which was negative, then said he needed a break and withdrew, leaving me feeling hurt and alone. So I put my own feelings in an email, which is something I’ve done before.

But this one was different.

Always before, my emails would take the form of argument, refuting things he’d said, providing evidence for my opposing point of view, concluding who should take the blame (always him, of course). This time, I just laid out what I was feeling, like garden tools on a cloth over the moist, black earth.

I thought a lot about advice our counselor had given us for fighting. Always ask yourself: are you adding fuel to the fire? Or trying for connection? Always try for connection.

I was vulnerable. I was honest. I tried for connection.

I don’t know if it’s because of opening the marriage, or because of beginning counseling, or because of both together, but it feels like I’ve taken one more step on the road to enlightenment by loving my husband while disagreeing with him, by dismissing the habitual urge to defend and blame.

I can do that. We can do this. We can create new ways to be together, even after all these years. We’ve already begun.

What happens next? Read Chronicle of an Open Marriage #8. Find all of my stories about opening our marriage on the list below, or about sex in general on this one. Get an email whenever I publish. Hallelujiah!