Choosing non-monogamy, avoiding the sarlacc pit of monogamy

When it comes to relationships, most of the time, people simply fall into the Sarlacc pit of monogamy by default. As a proud whore, the happily (monogamous) ever after ideal has never been my romantic goal.  In my eyes, the best part of sex – and life, in general – is getting to experience all the variety it has to offer and it’d be stupid for me choose to love in any other way.

Like most people in America, I grew up thinking that monogamy was the only way to go. For a long time, when people would ask, I used to tell them that I’d never been in a relationship. I’d had long-term love affairs and fuck buddies, but they didn’t fit into my narrow view of a relationship and therefore didn’t count.

Because I was often free to ponder and make decisions on my own growing up, it’s always been normal for me to arrange my romantic life in whatever way felt most natural.  Usually, I float freely from partner to partner going on dates, snuggling and making these people a priority in my life, but I’ve never had a “boyfriend.” The closest I’ve ever come to being in a traditional relationship was a 4-month “thing” I floated into with a TV producer while I was attending culinary school in Scottsdale, AZ.

For most of the time that we were together, we didn’t talk about monogamy. So, I was just doing my thing. Eventually, he brought up the topic and our versions of events were quite different. Sure, I was monogamous with him, but only because I wasn’t fucking anyone else.  Even still, I was very uncomfortable with making that monogamy purposeful.

At that time, I didn’t know I wanted non-monogamy; except for 70’s key parties, I didn’t even have a concept of what it was. I did know that monogamy wasn’t for me. The idea that I should go on an intimacy hunger strike to show how dedicated I am to someone didn’t sit well with me. I can’t and shouldn’t have to stop living my life to be in love with someone else.

With monogamy, the success of the relationship is based on my ability to be a successful martyr. I’m not Jerome of Arc; I don’t want the success of my romantic relationships to be based on whether I can emotionally and creatively die for the cause. I want the success of my relationships to be based on whether or not I’m happy and fulfilled, whether I loved and lived well with the people who share my heart.

When I think of my perfect life partner, he’s a combination of all the best people in my life. He’s charming, funny, playful, serious, honest, adventurous, grounded, challenging and caring. He’s a great dancer and an even better fuck. He cares about my passions, but nurtures his own. He’s a myth, a fiction, a fanciful story told to children so they don’t become sluts.

Be good, be chaste and one day the perfect person will sweep me off my feet and fulfill my every desire and need. It’s a sweet notion that someone would care so much for me that they’d wish to be everything to me forever, but it’s impossible. No one person could ever be everything to me and I couldn’t be that for anyone else. I don’t have just one friend, one acquaintance, one drinking buddy, one flirtation or one fuck buddy and I don’t want just one epic love.

My life isn’t a fairy tale. My love doesn’t work in any way that sounds romantic over swelling strings. My love works the way it works and no ring or vow is ever going to change that. Choosing non-monogamy is choosing to live my truth. It’s choosing to live (truly) happily after ever with the seven dwarves who make me happy instead of waiting for an imaginary Prince Charming.