Here are 2 articles about open marriages.
I have a boyfriend and he is married to someone else.
When people find out that I am in a long-term relationship with a man in an open marriage, they assume that I am a mistress or a bunny boiler (remember Fatal Attraction?) or both.
My friends talk both to and about me, wondering what I could possibly be thinking.
How can I be unfailingly faithful to a man who gives me no stability or future?
How can I choose to be monogamous, when he does not?
In an era of increasingly liberal approaches to romance, polyamorous relationships remain chronically misunderstood. But more than that, the responsibilities and boundaries held by a girlfriend (or boyfriend) who is not the “primary” are never discussed.
My boyfriend has a wife and two beautiful children. I’ve met his wife and, though it would be easy for us to despise one another, she and I have found a balance of tolerance and respect.
We ask after one another and send good wishes. Though I have visited their home several times, she and I have spoken face-to-face only once. As his life partner, she decides the terms of their open marriage and she wants no friendship from me. I understand that feeling and I respect it. She and I approach our relationships with the man we both love in our own ways and at our own pace.
If I were able to do so openly, I would dote on his daughters. Instead, I quietly admire them from afar and occasionally send them small gifts. They are too young to understand the implications of another woman in their father’s life, so they don’t know the presents come from me.
I watch videos of them on their birthdays and at Christmas; I am rooting for them to become the strong, confident women their parents are raising them to be.
There are areas of my boyfriend’s life I have no access or claim to. We do not discuss money, except when strictly necessary. We talk about our futures as individuals, but not as a couple.
We approach each day with the shared knowledge that at some point, I will move on to a man who will give me all the things my boyfriend cannot. We talk about dancing together at my wedding and how it will feel to look back on the magic we shared together. Our relationship encompasses more than sex, but our love is also limited by time and appropriateness.
I have been in this relationship for nearly two years; I am almost 30. I knew my boyfriend’s marriage was open before our first kiss and I have known all along that he does not have the slightest inclination to leave his wife (nor have I ever asked that of him).
Though it is difficult for people to understand, he is happily married. His relationship with me is not the result of a character flaw in any of us. It is simply the path that we have chosen; the path that keeps us all happy.
My obligation to both my boyfriend and to his wife is to accept the certainty of no promises and no future and to be sufficiently sure of myself to move on from him when I am ready. I hope that he and I will always be in each other’s lives, even once our romance has ended.
I believe we have come too far together, to be without each other’s platonic company and support once we are no longer lovers. Some accuse me of being idealistic, but in a relationship like ours, such transitions have to be possible.
Loving and being loved is a gift and I have learned more from my boyfriend than any partner I’ve ever had. We cheer on our successes and we build one another back up when times are tough. We hold obligations to each other and we delight in each other’s pleasure. We consider ourselves a team, albeit a unique one.
As a young woman, I am resilient. I have a career path, I have enough of my own money to live comfortably and I live alone in a penthouse apartment. Both my intellect and my feminism sit at the forefront of my day job.
I live a full life and I am not defined by my relationship, in the same ways that other, more traditional partnerships do not wholly define either person. I refuse to settle for less than I need from my partner – and though everyone assumes I must be unhappy or unfulfilled, this is what works for me.
Over the time that we have been together, I have seen friends get married, settle down and start having kids. I have watched all this, knowing the choices I am making cannot give me access to that life.
Sometimes – rarely – when I have a bad day, I start to feel a dull ache in my chest, because I am not able to live with, marry or bear children with my boyfriend. And then I remember the moments that we share together, the richness and depth of our relationship and the love I know that he feels for me. And I smile to myself, instead.
Rose Dawson lives in Vancouver.
Mar. 4, 2017 "Open heart": Today I found this book review by Stacey May Fowles in the Globe and Mail:
An energetic, fast-paced debut about a couple who’ve decided to redefine their relationship
Never exploitative or sensationalizing, Next Year, For Sure is a lively yet sensitive novel that examines both the possibilities and struggles inherent to loving beyond typical constraints.
While Zoey Leigh Peterson certainly doesn’t gloss over any challenges when it comes to polyamory, she does ask readers to confront their own beliefs, biases and judgments, which, after all, is exactly what great and relevant literature should do.
Peterson’s debut novel invites readers to examine what a couple can potentially face when they make the decision to open up their relationship, and their lives, to another love.
When Kathryn’s long-time boyfriend Chris goes on what is described as a “non-date” with Emily, Kathryn spends some time alone at home going over the implications of their new relationship dynamic. Kathryn has consented to – even enthusiastically encouraged – her partner pursuing another woman, but when she finds herself watching “a toxic amount of sitcoms” and pacing around the apartment, waiting for him to return, she feels some natural doubt.
“Somewhere Chris and Emily are enjoying their time together. Kathryn can afford to be happy for them. That feeling exists inside her, like a seedling poking through the dirt.” This idea is a simple one, but as Peterson goes on to reveal, people are exceedingly complex, as are their feelings around monogamy, jealousy and the concept of fidelity.
With this energetic, fast-paced debut, the author has taken an empathetic and open-minded look at a couple who have made the conscious decision to define relationships outside the dictated status quo.
It is a thoughtful, warm meditation on what it means to love, querying our widespread cultural reluctance to expand our definitions beyond traditional narratives and typical pairings.
Chris and Kathryn are in no way painted as a couple who is lacking, broken or needing to fill a void – in fact, quite the opposite. Their nine-year connection is one forged from deep respect and understanding, their coupling one that employs secret coded language and enjoys incredible comfort and intimacy.
While the addition of Emily does require them to ask important and hard questions of themselves and each other, it also enriches their lives, revealing more about their deepest feelings than they initially imagined.
Throughout the novel, the reader is given insight into both Chris and Kathryn’s mindsets as this new phase of their relationship unfolds. At one point, Emily asks Chris what it is he wants, and he pointedly replies, “I want not to be an asshole.”
At another, Kathryn realizes Emily has become her best friend. The path of the prose functions much like the human mind in action – second guessing, re-examining and reassuring as the plot clips forcefully along.
“You figure out the right thing to feel, and you make yourself feel it,” Peterson writes, underscoring how both inner and outer forces mould our core perspectives. It often seems Chris and Kathryn are driven not solely by their wants, but by a deep seated need to make each other happy, whatever the cost, and their journey in doing so is documented with both humour and thoughtfulness.
One of the more interesting points in the book is underscored by contrasting Kathryn’s lack lustre social group with the introduction of Emily’s inviting (if offbeat) communal home. While Kathryn’s friend Sharon, and later the women who gather for her bachelorette party and wedding, gleefully judge and deride the very idea of Chris seeing another woman – even pity Kathryn for it – Emily’s home and “her people” become a welcoming place of refuge.
While Sharon cruelly implies Kathryn is rubbing her “sex orgy” in people’s faces, Emily’s world is full of music and kindness, her housemates offering a sanctuary away from the judgment she feels from those who claim to support her. Emily and her friends are rendered with an obvious feel good vibrancy, emphasizing the increasing distance Kathryn feels from those who cannot accept the life she and Chris have chosen – regardless of how happy they assert they are.
Having said that, there’s nothing prescriptive about Next Year, For Sure. Peterson doesn’t assert that any relationship or living situation is more valid than another, nor does she valorize or demonize particular characters to press the reader into making specific judgments.
What she does do is emphasize the importance of affection and human connection in all its various configurations, and subtly condemn any cultural judgments that ultimately prevent them.
The argument here is less for the validity of one relationship or another, and more for kindness and respect, while still looking closely at one’s own comfort levels.
It’s all too easy to fall in love with these characters as they messily fall in love with each other, and to empathize with their desire to be true to themselves without harming the people they care so deeply about.
Life is so often about finding the balance between our own fulfilment, and a vital respect for the needs of others, and Next Year, For Sure articulates this conflict with innovative grace and candour.
And though it may be easy for some to criticize those who choose to love outside of typical monogamous structure, Peterson has, with a light hand, offered a robust look at positive alternatives.
Stacey May Fowles is a regular contributor to The Globe. Her new book, Baseball Life Advice: Loving the Game That Saved Me, will be published in April.
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