Non Monogamy Is That Okay

[nonmonogamy-isitokay]

The Feeling I Don’t Have a Name For

When I see my husband pleasure another woman, there’s a whole rush of emotion that hits at once. It’s a cocktail of excitement, sexiness and jealousy. And it is intense , It’s messy, emotional and unexplainable, that feeling doesn’t have a word.

I want to talk about that “feeling”. Jealousy, just isn’t it. The word doesn’t fit for what actually happens inside me.

Only a select group of our closest, trusted friends know the truth about our lifestyle. We know they don’t judge, and are as excited as we are about the whole lifestyle and situation.

When we first told them, the first reactions was shock, and then always the same question— “How could you ever watch your partner have sex with someone else?”

If I wasn’t in the lifestyle, that would be my first question too. Before this lifestyle, I couldn’t imagine seeing my husband with someone else. I would feel intense rage, jealousy, and heartbreak. I would have packed my shit instantly.

But… when it’s consensual and built on trust, it becomes something entirely different. Something unexplainable. It is something far more complex and strangely very sexy, with a spark of jealousy.

The dictionary definition of jealousy talks about fear, insecurity, and the threat of losing something precious.

None of that fits here.

People in this lifestyle get it instantly — that strange, indescribable mix of emotion that I wish there were a name for.

It sounds a lot like jealousy, and until I fully understood it, I thought it was jealousy. However, I know he isn’t leaving me for her. This is consensual, and I know we are both enjoying it. My own insecurities contribute to that cocktail. Is she better than me? Is she giving him more pleasure? What if he prefers her over me?

This, for me, is the hardest part of the lifestyle we’ve chosen together. Not the sharing. Not the vulnerability. Not the intensity. It’s my own self‑doubt. That’s the real struggle, for me. It shadows everything.

I look in the mirror, and my eyes go straight to the things I wish I could change. I see the overhang of my tummy. The lines on my face that didn’t used to be there. The thighs I’ve criticised for years. The stretch marks that feel louder than they should. All these imperfections shout at me in that mirror.

These insecurities creep in quietly. When the see my man with another women, they shout out and hit with force. I have put the blame on my husband, so many times. Saying things like she must me hotter than me, she must give you a better experience, and it has spiralled into a full blown domestic. It’s something that has come up again and again. But this is not him, it is me and my own insecurity.

I know my husband loves me and I am his world, I am the woman he chose, the person he loves, the one he wants to spend his life with. He tells me that everyday and tells me everything else is just experience, just fun, just exploration, and it will never be a replacement for us. Every time I bring this up he instantly puts a stop to the lifestyle, which proves he isn’t in it for anyone else or himself, just for us.

Other men find me attractive too. They tell me I’m sexy, desirable, beautiful. They see things in me that I struggle to see in myself. They look at me with a confidence I don’t always feel. And even though I hear it, it doesn’t sink in. The mirror feels louder than words.

After every encounter and debriefing my husband says- maybe this lifestyle isn’t for us if you feel like this ways and have so many unexplained feelings. But I think it is for us. we are soo much closer so much more connect and so much more in love.

It’s taken me a long time to understand that insecurity doesn’t disappear just because someone tells you you’re beautiful. It doesn’t vanish because someone desires you. It doesn’t dissolve because someone loves you deeply. Insecurity is quieter, more stubborn, more personal. It lives in the spaces between who you are and who you think you should be.

So here I am, telling all, so vulnerably. navigating a lifestyle that brings sexiness, excitement and empowerment, whilst battling insecurities that scream the opposite. That strange feeling I get when I see my husband with someone else is tied up in all of this. It’s not jealousy. It’s not fear. It’s not self‑doubt. It’s something more layered, more human, more vulnerable.

I wish there were a word for it.

I wish I could name it.

But maybe some emotions aren’t meant to be named and defined. Maybe they’re meant to be lived, felt, explored — not boxed into a single word.

And maybe that’s what makes this journey so real. It’s not perfect. It’s not simple. It’s not always easy, and there have been so many bumps. But it’s honest. It’s raw. It’s full of connections and trust.

Our marriage is solid, and this lifestyle has made us more connected than before. We talk about every experience, every emotion, and debrief on every encounter. We are more open to each other, more connected.

Ps. our sex is out of this world fyi!!

[nonmonogamy-isitokay]

How do you even become non‑monogamous?

Have you ever watched Open House: The Great Sex Experiment on Channel 4? If you haven’t and you’re even slightly curious… honestly, give it a go.

One evening, my husband and I were doing our usual sofa scroll through the channels when we landed on Season 2, Episode 6. Within minutes, we were completely hooked.

Here’s the overview of the show:

Open House follows monogamous couples who are invited to explore whether their relationship could thrive without exclusivity. With the support of relationship coaches and sex therapists, they question long‑held beliefs about commitment, desire, and what it means to love someone. It’s not all smooth sailing—far from it—but that’s what makes it fascinating. You watch people confront jealousy, communication, boundaries, and the messy, human side of opening up a relationship.

After that first episode, we watched, we just stared at each other.

I laughed it off: “Could we? No. No, of course not.”

But he kept looking at me and said, “Could we though?”

I didn’t answer.

And that silence… that’s where it all began!

What started as a throwaway comment soon turned into something deeper. Out of nowhere at first, then gradually becoming the thing we kept circling back to whenever we had a quiet moment together.

We found ourselves asking the big questions:

How would it actually work? Would we want to meet single people, other couples? Are there really people out there living like this—not on TV, but in real life?

And once those questions were out in the open, the research began.

Before we knew it, we were scrolling through forums and nervously looking up swingers’ clubs and social groups. It felt strange, exciting, a bit surreal. Like we’d opened a door we didn’t even realise was there.

As the conversations deepened, our preferences started to take shape. All those late‑night “what if” scenarios, the teasing, the imagining—it all made things surprisingly clear. We realised we weren’t interested in meeting single people. For us, it was another couple.

Some people call that swinging, but honestly, I hate that word. It sounds sleazy, tacky and outdated, like something whispered behind closed curtains. What we were talking about felt nothing like that. The idea was soo hot and sexy —sexy in a way that surprised both of us.

Eventually, with a bit of Dutch courage and far too much overthinking, we started chatting to a couple who, to our shock, lived practically around the corner. They were new to this too just like us, there was a strange comfort in knowing we were learning together.

Our four‑way chat moved quickly from polite introductions to the fun stuff. what we were into, what we fantasised about, what we were curious to try.

And then, the serious part—Boundaries. Mine were crystal clear from the start:

• No splitting off into separate rooms

• No one gets left out

• Everything happens outside our home, and our kids will never know anything—ever

• And no same‑sex sexual contact

(Those boundaries have grown and changed over time… but that’s another story, for another blog post.)

It goes without saying we were into this. We were choosing this together.. Every conversation felt like peeling back another layer of our relationship trust, honesty, desire, insecurity all laid out in the open. It was thrilling, but it was also vulnerable in a way I hadn’t expected.

We choose to do this together Not out of boredom, not out of dissatisfaction, but out of a shared desire to explore something new—hand in hand, eyes wide open.

Was it actually happening?

Were we really doing this?

The excitement and nerves tangled together, and suddenly the whole thing felt very, very real.

[nonmonogamy-isitokay]

Non monogamy is it okay?

Hey, I’m New Here! 👋

I’m excited to finally start sharing a part of our journey that has completely transformed our marriage in the most unexpected and empowering way.

My husband and I are a very happily married couple with two children, living what most people would call a pretty ordinary life. We both work full‑time, juggle long hours, and like many parents we often find ourselves with very little quality time together.

But one thing has always been true for us. Sex! It has been our way of staying connected, appreciated, and in love.

Recently, we made a choice, to open up a whole new chapter in our relationship. We’ve stepped into a consensual non‑monogamous lifestyle, and it has brought us closer, more communicative, and more confident i ourselves than ever before.

This blog is where I’ll be talking about how our ordinary, loving family life has grown into something more exciting, honest, and sexy — and how exploring this lifestyle together has strengthened our bond in ways we never expected.

If you’re curious, open‑minded, or simply love hearing about real relationships evolving in real time, you’re in the right place.