Bi female here. I’ve been seeing an ENM M/F couple for almost four months. The F was an acquaintance of mine for about two years. We are all close in age (late thirties, early forties). This is my first ethically non-monogamous relationship.
Here are the pros: they are charming and attractive; the sex is great; they are affectionate with me in public and introduce me to their friends as someone they are dating; they invite me to sleepover at their place, they cook for me, and show other acts of care; they have come over to care for me when I am sick; we have many friends in common.
And here are the cons: they have said they want to keep things light; anything close to a “define the relationship” talk only happens when we are intoxicated; they started dating someone else around the same time as me, which I only found out when I arrived at their place for a scheduled visit and their other partner hadn’t left yet; they flirt with other women in front of me; their other partner — the one they started seeing at the same time they started seeing me — is in her early 20s, as are most of the other women they flirt with. I also believe there’s a worrying power dynamic in play where these younger women are concerned. This couple often flirts with these women by proposing modeling/photoshoots, and these younger women often seem starstruck. They both have significant social media followings (she’s a model, he’s a photographer), so the young women often seem starstruck.
Since I am new to ENM I am not sure what parts of these stresses are just learning curves for me, what parts I should talk to the couple about, and what parts are simply beyond my boundaries/red flags.
Fretting Lately About Getting Serious
You’re fucking your first couple — achievement unlocked — and they enjoy your company outside the bedroom, they’re open about you being a part of their lives, and they show up for you when you need them. As pros go, FLAGS, that’s not a bad list. God knows there are too many “ENM” couples who think “we want to keep things casual” is a magical incantation that frees them from having to treat their casual sex partners like human beings with feelings and needs of their own. So, you could’ve done a lot worse where your first experience with ENM is concerned.
Now, the way you learned this couple was seeing another woman — running into her when you arrived for your shift — was far from ideal, of course, but I wouldn’t classify it as a betrayal. If you’d already had your first drunken DTR convo, FLAGS, then you knew this couple wanted to keep things casual. While they shouldn’t have allowed you to assume you were the only other woman they were seeing, FLAGS, you also shouldn’t have made that assumption. Still, given that you were new to ENM and therefore likely to be carrying monogamous assumptions and autopilot settings into this relationship (“If we’re fucking and seeing a lot of each other that must mean we’re exclusive!”), FLAGS, this couple should’ve made it clear to you that they were still seeing/dating/fucking other women.
And while it sounds this couple is giving you a lot — a lot more than some “keep it casual” couples give their secondary partners — it also sounds like you want more. I have a hunch that you’re the one initiating those drunken “define the relationship” conversations, FLAGS, in the hope of getting a different answer out of them at some point. And that’s not an entirely irrational hope, FLAGS, as the huge number of people in committed relationships who said they wanted to “keep it light” at the outset prove. (I was pretty adamant about “keeping things casual” when I met my husband three decades ago.) So, you can keep shaking that Magic 8 Ball, FLAGS, but if you don’t get the answer you want in the next eight months — or if you don’t realize before your first hookup anniversary that their brand of not-so-casual casual is exactly what you want after all — then you’ll need to chuck that Magic 8 Ball in the trash and end this relationship while you’re still feeling relatively good about it.
As for the younger women this couple pursues…
Dangling professional opportunities in front of younger women they wanna fuck is a red flag. A professional photographer and a model with significant followings on social media have power — they have clout — and if these two are leveraging that power to get women who wouldn’t wanna fuck them into their bed… yeah, that’s not great.
But is that what they’re doing?
While the world is disinclined to give the benefit of the doubt to anyone who dangles a professional opportunity in front of someone they wanna fuck — and quite rightly so — you’re in a better position to judge what this couple is doing, FLAGS, given that they’re doing it in front of you. If a young woman is interested in fucking this couple and if that young woman knows what this couple does for a living (two big ifs) then the offer of a photoshoot — once mutual attraction has been established — could be received/perceived as a flirty, sexy, and obvious value-add. But if this couple is dangling photoshoots in front of younger women who don’t seem particularly interested in fucking them… yeah, that’s creepy and manipulative.
That said, FLAGS, if a young adult wants to fuck a photographer and his model girlfriend because she wants to advance her career… or if she wants to fuck a photographer and his model girlfriend because she’s into them… or if she wants to fuck them because she’s into them and she wants to advance her career… that’s her choice. Adults are capable of consenting to sex, and adults consent to sex for all sorts of reasons, good and bad.
Still, FLAGS, if what you’re seeing is making you uncomfortable, address it the next time you have one of those drunken heart-to-hearts: “I know you guys would never wanna fuck anyone who didn’t wanna fuck you… and there’s clearly no shortage of people who wanna fuck you… but do you guys ever worry that one of these aspiring models might fuck you for the wrong reason and wind up feeling bad about it later?”
I married my beloved college boyfriend twenty years ago. I’ll call him Alfred. I (mostly) still adore him. We can talk for hours about art, film, and politics — and it’s actually fun and productive when we disagree. We have a variegated and satisfying sex life. When you’re married to Alfred, you tag along with him on the passionate interests he takes on every few years. Some of them fade away completely, but many linger in the background, often quite pleasingly: gourmet cooking, vinyl records, Scotch whisky. To this day, years away from his all-consuming initial infatuations, I can still occasionally be presented at dinner with an expertly crafted cassoulet and a dram of old Caperdonich with The Clash raging on the hi-fi speakers. (We’ll not discuss the mountain of dirty dishes or the coffee-sloshed countertops.)
It’s his latest obsession that’s driving me insane. Alfred, you see, has been bitten by the “fibermaxxing” bug. Now, I can tolerate — and probably benefit from — joining him in consuming various chia puddings and pungent homemade fermentation projects (again, the guy can cook). I can deal with the lectures on “resistant fiber” and the benefits of something called butyrate. But increasingly, the man has become fixated on the triumphant result of his fibermaxxing exploits: his bowel movements. I’m happy to listen to him hash out the differences between mole poblano and mole negro; I have, at his behest, learned to distinguish between north and east Highland whiskies. But I do not want to hear him describe what takes place for him behind the bathroom door, Dan, and I flatly refuse to divulge my own such information, despite his pleas. This attitude drives him nuts!
Recently, out of the blue, in a state of joyous excitement, he urged me to follow him — he had something for me to see. When he led me into the bedroom, I thought he might have something fun in mind. But he led me through the bedroom and the bathroom, where he delightedly showed me the contents of the unflushed toilet. (He didn’t seem to consider how I’d receive the stench.) I screamed. I have not recovered from this. I cannot see him in a sexual way when I think about this foul incident. He is not a toddler; I am not his mommy. There is now an icy chill between us. Do I wait for this phase, too, to pass? Or is this development a sign that the romantic part of our relationship has run its course.
Tired Of This Shit
I was tired of Alfred’s shit before I got to the end of your letter, TOTS, and, if I’m going to be perfectly frank, I was tired of your shit by the time I got to the end of your letter, too. My advice: Tell your idiot husband you never want to see another one of his fibermaxxed turds ever again. (Did you really need my permission to do that?) As for your sex life: If you can’t see your husband in a sexual way when you think about this foul incident, TOTS, try your best not to think about this foul incident. If you can’t help yourself — if you can’t stop yourself from thinking about it — a few CBT sessions with a skilled provider might help.
P.S. Your husband’s turds might be variegated — “varied in appearance or color; marked with patches or spots of different colors” — but unless you’re wearing a cheetah fursuit to bed and/or you have an untreated sexually transmitted infection, TOTS, your sex life isn’t variegated.
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