Unpacking My Newfound Tenderness for My Husband

Chronicle of an Open Marriage #13

Some stony dam has broken open — some longstanding resentments have been released and washed away in a cleansing torrent. Some inexplicable feelings of being trapped, controlled, pressured, dismissed, disrespected, unloved — so many negatives! — have dwindled down to almost nothing in my long-term marriage. I don’t pretend to understand why, but I know when. It started when I suggested my husband seek sex outside the marriage — with men.

The man thing was important to me, and also to him. For me, it meant I wouldn’t feel threatened, like I was suddenly competing for his affections. I would still be the primary woman in his life. I would still be the #1 wife.

For him, it was something he’d been curious about for a long time. As I’ve talked about in other stories, he was bi-curious as a teen, but then hooked up with me at the tender age of 21 — I was his first girlfriend — and stuck like glue. He knew a good thing when he found one.

Then what? Close to 40 years of sexual disconnect. He always wanted more more more from me, which resulted in me wanting less less less. Or maybe a lifetime of fending off rampant misogyny and sexual harassment —the typical life experience of most women— had something to do with my lower libido?

I couldn’t take my clothes off in front of him without him wanting sex. I couldn’t cuddle up, or hug, or express physical affection without him endeavoring to push it to a sexual level. I had to guard my body all the time.

You might think it was great that he had so much desire for me, and that’s what I told myself for all those years: wanting me too much was better than not wanting me enough. But were those really the only options?

What drove those desires?

And here’s a thought. Maybe what drove my husband’s desire wasn’t that I was so irresistibly sexy. Maybe he was just a sex addict. Or maybe he wanted something he wasn’t getting, something he couldn’t get from me — homosexual sex — so he always had a feeling of being unfulfilled.

Our chances of figuring this out were practically nil. For him, seeking sex outside the marriage wasn’t on the table. He knew he loved me. He knew he wanted to be married to me. He wasn’t going to jeopardize that and everything that came with it (family, financial security, emotional stability) for some kind of sexual thrill. For me, I didn’t think he could really be bisexual. Didn’t his insatiable hunger for me, a woman, prove otherwise?

But still, we were sexually disconnected. We had problems. We often fought. We kept trying to figure it out. Until one day, on the brink (once again) of a divorce, I suggested he go outside our marriage and try having sex with men. Clue #1 that this was what we needed: He didn’t hesitate to comply. For him, it was more than bi-curiosity. It was curiosity in general. He had never had sex with anyone else.

Guided by our own weirdness

When I wrote the first story about opening our marriage, I was told by an expert that it wasn’t sex positive because I limited my husband’s choices to men. I guess I hadn’t explained that he wanted that, too. Or maybe I don’t fully understand what sex positive means. If some set of criteria, whatever it may be, is sexually satisfying to both partners, isn’t that sex positive? It feels positive to me.

Later, and still, I looked for books and articles about ethical non-monogamy and found some of them off-putting. One book (More Than Two) began by listing a number of reasons you should NOT open your marriage, including “You shouldn’t open your marriage because one partner isn’t getting enough sex.” My response to that is, why not? That sounds like a perfectly good reason to me. In fact, it sounds like the reason I suggested it. I thought maybe if Hubs got sex elsewhere, he wouldn’t want so much of it from me.

Not everyone is seeking spiritual enlightenment or psychological evolution through opening their marriage. Some of us are just trying to make our marriage work.

Now if I were doing it as some kind of sacrifice that caused me anguish and worked only for my husband, that would be a problem. But that isn’t what’s happening here. My husband going outside our marriage for sex is benefiting me just as much as him. It’s benefited me far more than I envisioned beforehand, and in surprising ways. We aren’t, for example, having less sex after all. We’re having more and better sex. And I’m glad of that.

Another time, I was listening to a BDSM podcast recommended by a friend (Daddy AF) when the host listed a number of feelings people shouldn’t be having in their open relationships like, “I own him; I’m letting him do this; He should be grateful to me.” And yes, I see the problem with imagining you “own” another person. But guess what? After being married for almost 40 years, and particularly considering that I was my husband’s first girlfriend, that’s exactly how I feel! And judging by some comments he’s made about whether or not I will want to rescind the arrangement when the trial period is over, I’m guessing my husband likes it that way, too: he wants me to own him. As long as we’re both happy with the arrangement, isn’t that okay?

Overall, the resource I’ve liked best is The Ethical Slut. It’s written by two women, and you can tell. They’re not busy telling you what you must and must not do, or how to do ethical non-monogamy right. They’re open to new ideas and they’re collaborative and questioning — just overall more feminine and less dicktatorial. (Sorry.) And their book had this line which seemed to apply to us: some can be sexual with any gender but romantic with only one, or vice versa.

IMO, human beings are infinitely variable, and so are the ways we can pair up. All ways are acceptable, as long as no one is getting hurt. In fact, the more variety, the better! Being weird or individual is not a flaw or a drawback. It’s the point. If you can nurture and allow the full expression of your unique self, you are living a good life, perhaps your best.

Is insecurity a kind of spice?

So what about that tenderness referenced in the headline? I’m not sure where it’s coming from, but a lot of little things have shifted between me and my husband over the past few months. For one thing, his desire for me has diminished to a much more normal and sustainable level. I don’t feel pursued all the time. And when he stops chasing, I can stop running away. We’re able to relax together comfortably. I even get to be the sexual initiator sometimes, and that feels good.

For another, knowing that someone else wants him (or multiple someones) makes me want him more. It’s like the old Taj Mahal lyric: you don’t miss your water until your well runs dry.

I miss my water. Someone else drinking “my” water makes me thirstier.

I wouldn’t like this situation if it was threatening. If I worried that he was going to leave me for one of his lovers, I would be distraught and upset. But I don’t worry about that. I don’t see that happening. If he gets a text from a lover and I ask what it says, he tells me. If he sets up a date, we discuss the calendar.

Our life together feels like it’s been brought down from a boil to a simmer — he doesn’t require me beside him every minute of the day; he’s not constantly grasping for something he lacks. And when we’re together, I can put my hand on him, gently. I can express affection. I can lapse into vulnerability, subtlety, tenderness.

It’s an unexpected gift.

What happened next? Read Chronicle of an Open Marriage #14. 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. And have a scrumptious day.