I was 24 and living with my boyfriend when I had what I'd call a quarter-life crisis. Greg and I had been dating for four years when suddenly it hit me: I needed to experience other men. I wasn't just curious; I was also afraid that I'd be 80 one day and regret not having experimented or explored my sexuality. I didn’t want to cheat, so I considered a breakup. But it was so hard; I still loved my boyfriend.
I decided just to talk to Greg. I told him that I was interested in being with other guys physically. We had talked about marriage and monogamy before and both agreed that it would be tough to sleep with one person for the rest of our lives, so I knew we were on the same page to some extent. But that was a purely hypothetical conversation. This was real and present.
After a long talk, he agreed that an open relationship would be worth a try. Of course he was nervous about it — I'd say he gave me a yellowish-green light at that point. To reassure us both, we set some ground rules:
- No sex with other people in our apartment.
- Take a shower immediately after a hookup.
- No dates; no dinners. Our encounters with other people had to be superficial and strictly physical.
- Hit it and quit it. Have sex and get out of there (no cuddling!).
- Talking on the phone and texting was only allowed if it involved sex.
- Try to plan ahead. If I knew I was going out to try to meet someone, I should give him a heads up (and vice versa).
I had a lot of friends who didn't quite get it. One friend told me it was messed up and I should just break up with Greg and move on. He suggested that this kind of situation is not even a "real" relationship, and that Greg is just a "pretend" boyfriend as long as I'm sleeping with other guys. I considered the idea, but it just wasn't true. There was no part of me that wanted Greg to be my ex. I didn't want to move on from him, even if some our friends thought that was best for us both. We knew better.
Excited by the new terms, I dove right in; didn't bother dipping my toe. About a week later I met a guy through mutual friends, and we hooked up that night. Immediately I felt guilty. It was 6am by the time I got home, and Greg was still asleep. I started thinking about saying those words out loud — I had sex with someone else — and it felt awful. When he finally woke up, he could tell I was upset. I told him I'd slept with another guy. Greg held me. He said I shouldn't be scared and that he understood.
For the rest of the article, head to YourTango: How Sleeping Around Saved My Relationship.
— Amelia Mularz.
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