Anything but straight sailing, my experience with relationships has been a series of mistakes, discoveries, and like with most things when you reach 40, some radical self-acceptance.
I've been the person who clung to relationships out of fear, who compromised herself to avoid being alone, and who tried to fit into predefined relationship models that never truly felt like home. But finally, on what I hope is the other side of that messy, beautiful process, I've learned that love isn't about following rules—it's simply about understanding yourself.

Monogamy: between social conventions and intimate truths
I grew up in what can only be described as a slightly quieter version of a Jilly Cooper novel. Out in the well-to-do English countryside, my understanding of relationships was shaped by screaming adult rows that took on angry turns of phrases like "who is she now?", and whispered adult gossip about "swapping" and "car keys in the bowl". I learnt recently that my own father brought a mistress to my mother’s brother’s stag night. Bold, but not surprising. When we moved to US suburbia, at the age where I was beginning to explore my own sexual and romantic adventures, these overheard conversations seem to disappear. I had even more questions, and even fewer answers.
Sex education on both sides of the pond reduced human connection to mere biological reproduction. In the end, I leaned heavily on my mother’s Jackie Collins novels, with their flawed, passionate characters who suggested that love looks different to what society portrays.
Society presents monogamy as the mature, responsible path—a life marker of success and stability. Open relationships, sexual freedom, and polyamory exist in the shadows of judgment. But what if this default setting is more about control than genuine connection? What if it's our collective shield against the vulnerability that true intimacy demands?
I've visited both sides of this story. Monogamous relationships that felt like empty promises. And non-monogamous connections that taught me more about myself than I ever expected.
Breaking Free from Inherited Patterns
In spite of societal views, the whispered conversations and the Jackie Collins novels, my mother’s forced acceptance of ongoing infidelity wove an internalized narrative: do whatever is necessary to avoid being alone, even if it means sacrificing your own happiness. A lesson far from joy.
My longest-term relationship was strong in compatibility and weak in chemistry, and eventually, emotionally dry. Twice I left because I chose not to be monogamous. Both times as an escape plan, both times because I needed to feel affection, to feel “loved”. The second act of infidelity was a definitive act of self-preservation - the last nail in the coffin of a relationship I feared ending, for fear that no longer being in a relationship meant utter failure.
By chance or by fate, when I did leave I ventured directly into a world and a relationship where sexual freedom reigned. I began to question the very idea of “a couple” and understand that monogamy and love are not synonymous, nor are non-monogamy and love mutually exclusive.
Literature and new experiences opened my eyes to new possibilities. They challenged the notion that love is a finite resource, suggesting instead that our hearts have an infinite capacity for connection.
Through these experiences, I came to understand that monogamy isn't an obligation—it's a conscious choice. I began to question not just my own choices, but the very foundations of what we consider relationship security. What is it exactly we look for in relationships? What does it mean to feel safe with someone? And why do we equate commitment with exclusivity?
The Illusion of Safety
For many, including myself at times, monogamy serves as a shield—a defence mechanism against the fear of abandonment. It provides a structure that feels stable, even when the relationship within that structure is crumbling. That if we belong to someone that we’ll be safe and respected. But neither “belonging” nor monogamy guarantee safety; they just create an illusion of security that is nothing more than an added pressure to bear.
Through all of these experiences, I also discovered that what I once thought was jealousy was actually deep-seated insecurity about myself. These two emotions may be cousins, but they're not identical twins. I’m not jealous, and I don’t believe that one person can belong to another.
Someone very wise said to me recently, “We’re more in love with the idea of monogamy than we are with each other?” And he’s not far from right. Sometimes, we use monogamy as a social tool, a way to signal to the world that we're doing relationships "right." But what if we're just using it to avoid looking too closely at what's missing?
Finding Your Own Truth
Through self-reflection and experience, I've embraced the idea of conscious non-monogamy, or conscious monogomy (it works both ways, I’m not a fan of labels)—where exclusivity isn't a default setting, and neither is an open relationship, but both are a choice that can be re-evaluated as a relationship evolves. It seems more normal to experience phases in a relationship where you only want to be with that person, and phases where you both want to explore other connections. This doesn’t fault what you’ve already built. This approach has allowed me to feel secure - but not trapped. Trust can be built, beyond the labels society implies.
My journey so far has taught me that love is too complex to be confined to a single definition. Whether I choose monogamy, an open relationship, polyamory, or something entirely different, what matters most is that it aligns with my who I am and my capacity for happiness.
Living Authentically
As I continue exploring what connection means to me, I'm committed to building relationships that feel genuine. The goal isn't to conform but to understand myself better and make choices that truly reflect who I am.
The question isn't whether monogamy is "right" or non-monogamy is "wrong"—it's about what feels true in the moment. What matters isn't the relationship structure we choose, but the honesty and self-awareness we bring to it. Sometimes the bravest thing we can do is question the ideas and values we've inherited and forge our own path to love and connection. And if that changes, that's okay. The most important thing is living authentically and choosing connection on our own terms.
Literature & Ressources
The State of Affairs: Rethinking Infidelity by Esther Perel
This book delves into the complexities of infidelity and challenges traditional views on monogamy. Her insights help readers understand why people stray in committed relationships and how this can be a lens to question broader ideas about monogamy, desire, and commitment.
The Ethical Slut: A Practical Guide to Polyamory, Open Relationships & Other Adventures by Dossie Easton and Janet Hardy
A foundational text for anyone curious about non-monogamous relationships. It offers guidance on navigating open relationships with honesty and integrity.
This website provides extensive resources, essays, and personal stories about ethical non-monogamy. It’s a great place to explore real-life perspectives and practical advice on navigating non-traditional relationships.
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