Posted on 07/16/2015 9:10:14 PM PDT by nickcarraway
As I write this, my children are asleep in their room, Loretta Lynn is on the stereo, and my wife is out on a date with a man named Paulo. Its her second date this week; her fourth this month so far. If it goes like the others, shell come home in the middle of the night, crawl into bed beside me, and tell me all about how she and Paulo had sex. I wont explode with anger or seethe with resentment. Ill tell her its a hot story and Im glad she had fun. Its hot because shes excited, and Im glad because Im a feminist.
Before my wife started sleeping with other men, I certainly considered myself a feminist, but I really only understood it in the abstract. When I quit working to stay at home with the kids, I began to understand it on a whole new level. I am an economically dependent househusband coping with the withering drudgery of child-rearing. Now that I understand the reality of that situation, I dont blame women for demanding more for themselves than the life of the housewife.
Still, as a man, I could, if I wanted to, portray what Im doing as work, and thus claim for myself the prestige men traditionally derive from work. Whenever I tell someone I stay home with the kids, they invariably say, Hardest work in the world. They say this because the only way to account for a man at home with the kids is to say what hes doing is hard work. But theres a subtext in the compliment that makes it backhanded: We both know no one ever says it to a woman. Mothers care; fathers provide care. The difference is crucial. Despite my total withdrawal from the economy and the traditional sources of masculine identity, I can still argue I am a provider. I provide care.
In this way, my masculine self-image was stretched but not broken. Diaper bag notwithstanding, I was still a Man. It wasnt until my wife mentioned one evening that shed kissed another man and liked it and wanted to do more than kiss next time that I realized how my status as a Man depended on a single fact: that my wife X only me.
***
When people ask how it started, I say this: We married young. Shed had sex before me, but only with a handful of people a handful of times. She never had a boyfriend, never had a lover. I was the first man she ever had the chance to get to know intimately. By her mid-30s, having already had our children and entering her sexual prime, she felt keenly her lack of sexual experience. Happily for me, she was willing to talk about it, willing to ask if Id be open to exploring other options. We opened a bottle of wine and started talking, and talking, and talking.
She didnt present it as an issue of feminism to me, but after much soul-searching about why the idea of my wife having sex with other men bothered me I came to a few conclusions: Monogamy meant I controlled her sexual expression, and, not to get all womens-studies major about it, patriarchal oppression essentially boils down to a mans fear that a woman with sexual agency is a woman he cant control. We arent afraid of their intellect or their spirit or their ability to bear children. We are afraid that when it comes time for sex, they wont choose us. This petty fear has led us as a culture to place judgments on the entire spectrum of female sexual expression: If a woman likes sex, shes a whore and a slut; if she only likes sex with her husband or boyfriend, shes boring and lame; if she doesnt like sex at all, shes frigid and unfeeling. Every option is a trap.
Feminism always comes back to sex, even when were talking about everything else. The point isnt that all women should be sexual adventurers. Celibacy is as valid an expression of sexuality as profligacy. The point is that it should be women who choose, not men even the men theyre married to. For my wife, the choice between honoring our vows and fulfilling her desires was a false choice, another trap. She knew how deep our love was, and knew that her wanting a variety of sexual experiences as we traveled through life together would not diminish or disrupt that love. It took me about six months many long, intense conversations, and an ocean of red wine before I knew it, too.
When my wife told me she wanted to open our marriage and take other lovers, she wasnt rejecting me, she was embracing herself. When I understood that, I finally became a feminist.
***
That was two years ago, and today weve never been happier, more in tune, closer, tighter, stronger. Whatever power I surrendered, I dont miss. I wouldnt recommend it for everyone, but I tell everyone it works for us.
How does it work? We take turns going out. Because we have small children (ages 6 and 3), one of us stays home. (We dont like to use babysitters because it gives us a curfew; wed rather go out unfettered than worry about turning into a pumpkin at midnight.) Going out alone to hooking up with others was an easy transition. It does work both ways and, yes, I too enjoy sexual carte blanche. I just dont use mine as much as my wife uses hers. Whats important is equality of opportunity, not outcome.
How does it feel? It feels great ... mostly. Most of the time, it feels like a mature, responsible way to address our needs and desires within our loving, mutually supportive marriage. It feels very adult, especially because it depends on open, honest communication. We take great pride in all the talking we do. I meet a lot of people who say theyll never get married because they dont want to get divorced, and hearing it always makes me sad, because they are cutting themselves off from the possibility of the magic that happens when two people share their lives. People dont divorce because they cant stand sharing anymore; they divorce because they feel like they cant share enough. I never forget that my wife is a whole person unto herself, a complete and dynamic individual, and though we are together, were not one. Too often people get trapped in the roles of husband and wife, and a gulf opens between what they think they should be and who they really are. Opening our marriage has allowed us to close that gap so that the person I call wife is the same person my wife sees in the mirror. Lying to each other begins with lying to yourself, and now we dont have to lie to anyone.
There are of course moments of jealousy, resentment, and insecurity. Recently, my wife went on a date and fell asleep at his apartment. I hadnt heard from her since 10 p.m., she still wasnt home at 6 a.m. My texts went unanswered and my calls went to voicemail. A tight knot of dread lodged in my stomach as I imagined all kinds of dire scenarios and realized that I not only didnt know where she was, I had no idea whom she was with. I pictured myself going to the police saying, I think shes in Red Hook with a guy named Ryan. I dont know his last name, but I think hes a graphic designer? Im not sure theres actually a word for the unique blend of acute terror and unforgivable shame I felt that morning imagining that Id lost my wife to Ryan, the maybe graphic designer. When she finally texted me at 7:30 a.m., relief coursed through me like morphine. She wrote, XXX Im soooooo sorry. Fell asleep. I replied, Just glad youre ok, but next time, no radio silence. Remember: youre not alone.
What surprises most people is when I tell them its not the sex-with-other-men that bothers me. The sex is the easy part, the fun part. Its what the sex connects to, stands for, reveals that can be difficult. I dont want her to fall in love with anyone else, and every time she goes on a date, I confront the possibility that she might. It happened at the beginning: The first person she dated after we opened up fell hard in love with her, and my wife, overwhelmed by his ardor, tried to love him back. Watching it happen, I was confused, angry, and terrified that she wanted to leave me. She assured me she didnt, and whatever feelings she had for him didnt lessen what she felt for me. Believing her then was the ultimate trust exercise. We survived because eventually I did believe her, and also because I learned to trust myself.
This has been the great challenge of my open marriage: to draw strength from vulnerability. Doing so requires supreme self-confidence. You must first really, truly love yourself; it is the foundation upon which all the other love is built. From everywhere comes the message that what Im doing is for weaklings, losers, failures, pussies; that if I had money and status, I could keep my wife in line; that her self-discovery comes at the expense of my self-esteem. My open marriage has made heavy demands on my ability to silence the voice of doubt in my head, that gnawing feeling of worthlessness. But I find I can meet those demands, and that I am able to build my self-confidence out of nothing more than the basic dignity we all possess. Im grateful to my wife for pushing us to take this leap, and whatever happens to us in the future I would do it all again. And when she comes home tonight and crawls into bed beside me with a hot story about her date with Paulo, shell do it all again, too.
Sorry, you’re just a lame, spineless wienie.
Wonder how awesome he will think this is after the divorce?
I can’t imagine his wife is going to feel he is attractive now.
I predict both will wind up leaving each other for other men.
Guy is P-whipped, probably secretly gay.
May the both of them enjoy their upcoming STD’s.
The FR server(s) should be spontaneously combusting right now...why are we reading this here?. call me a knuckle dragger I don’t care.
Buy a supermarket chick mag or something...
I think I’ll go pull up and watch John Wick on-demand to set my mind at ease.
Guy is delusional....much like the culture we dwell in these days.
He’s just a two bit cuckold trying to justify his lack of balls. He’s a worm, not a man and to make it worse, he wanted to be a worm. Disgusting. He should learn to keep his sickness a bit more private.
Ignorance is not bliss. We ignored things for too long and the left took advantage...
i was in an open marriage. Of course I didn’t realize it until the end.
I only read the first few sentences, but this reads like pure, unadulterated, bull chips. It reminded me of the ‘Letters to the Penthouse’, of 40 years ago. Obvious fantasies written by young men about exploits that only happened in there imagination. Same with this crap. No man wrote it. Maybe a lesbian, or a spinster. Fiction.
“I never thought this would happen to me.....”
“A tight knot of dread lodged in my stomach...” Sounds like a small rumble when written on paper. The broken trust must sound like a loud thunder 24/7 in real life. Doormat.
Hum.... I wonder how they will feel when the STD’s make life fun and happy...
I predict this guy will put a bullet in his head within five years....or maybe hers...
I don’t think I’ve read anything more delusional in a long time...
LOL. Same here. I was devoted and faithful. Apparently, that's considered boring now.
People like this so-called man and his so-called wife are putting their own family in danger, and they're putting other people's families in danger, too. How many of their partners had spouses who never agreed to an "open" marriage?
And the upcoming raising other men’s kids
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