My partner’s in an open midlife marriage – we’re like grown-up friends with benefits

There is deep scepticism about whether open marriages work – particularly when high profile ones fail. Smug marrieds rubbed their hands with glee last week after writer Neil Gaiman announced that he was splitting from his wife, singer Amanda Palmer, after 11 years. Over the years they had revelled in their open marriage, describing themselves as “slutty, but compassionately so”. The idea of being monogamous forever had been “terrifying”, Palmer said in a 2019 interview, though admitted that she “requested that we shut down” their open marriage for a period when their son was four “to focus on family life”. Fast forward three years and the whole thing is kaput.

Many think their marriage ending in divorce is a sign that open ones never last. The suspicion with which people view open marriages is borne out of people’s insecurities about their own choices; the guilt they feel at being forced to “own” another person, depriving them of their freedom and development. It feels threatening to “traditional” couples – even those who consider themselves broad-minded and liberal.

My partner’s marriage opened around two years ago, after they’d been together for 12 years, at his wife’s suggestion. She wanted to explore a relationship with an old university acquaintance and my partner was willing to give it a go. They ensure their son knows nothing about their unorthodox union (which is why I’ll never meet him), and dates with their additional partners must be scheduled in advance, as family always takes priority. As far as I know, they both only have one extra-marital partner.

I’d never heard the term “ethically non-monogamous” before we met a year ago and didn’t even recognise the acronym (ENM) he’d listed on his dating profile. As he explained, a condition of his being able to date other women means playing by a surprisingly strict set of rules. People imagine open marriages are sleazy; all about simply having sex with other people. But actually such arrangements are based on strong foundations and respect, and guidelines to ensure that boundaries between “primaries” (each individual's main partner) aren’t crossed. Though totally unexpected, my relationship feels easy, uncomplicated and nurturing.

I’ve learnt a lot about the ENM community as a result of our relationship. But I’ve learnt even more about people’s views – even close friends who have been totally horrified by how I’m conducting my private life. When I told one of my best friends, her response was that I’d betrayed the sisterhood and wouldn’t I think of his wife and child? I explained that it was his wife’s idea, but she told me “that’s what a man would say”. Another close friend thinks my relationship counts as nothing more than cheating. Others have said that I must have low self-esteem to “settle”, or that it’s unhealthy to go against social norms like this. I’ve really seen how judgmental people are and I’m very careful about who I tell.

These reactions don’t affect how I feel about him. We talk for hours during our weekly meet-ups, which are usually at my house, and our chemistry is strong. I don’t hanker for him to leave his wife or make me his new one; our relationship will never be like that, which I accept. At this stage, we're like grown-up friends with benefits.

I’m what’s known as a solo poly – which means I’m in a polyamorous relationship, but not the one seeking out other connections. I’ve broken things off with my partner a couple of times when I began dating someone else, then came back when it didn’t work out. I’m 42 and while children may no longer be an option, I hope that prioritising a long-term partner will be.

For all of my exposure to the ENM world, I just don’t see myself as being able to sustain multiple intense relationships; I’m quite a jealous person and it would make me too insecure. The way I handle things with my current partner is by compartmentalising the idea of him going home to his wife at night. But thinking about the nuts and bolts of it too much would upset me.

I’m not entirely sure what she knows about me, but I do know that her relationship with her extra-marital partner is quite deep and emotional, though I’m not sure they actually sleep together. I’ve realised that there are a lot more seemingly “ordinary” people in such a set-up than you’d think.

An open marriage won’t work for everyone – I knew one couple who opened their marriage at the wife’s request, where the husband was less keen. Like Gaiman and Palmer, the marriage was then closed during a period of necessity and ultimately broke down. The thing is, adding an open element to a marriage with unresolved problems will only create strain. Both parties have to want the arrangement and be committed to how such a relationship might evolve.

Often it’s the woman who suggests opening a marriage. My cynical brain says that’s because most men who want to see other people will simply do so behind their wife’s back, without setting out an ethical arrangement ahead of time. My arrangement isn’t one I want to last forever, but it’s certainly challenged everything I thought I knew about commitment and love.

As told to Charlotte Lytton