Latest news with #openmarriage
Times
a day ago
- Entertainment
- Times
Me, my husband and our many lovers: inside our open marriage
I'm in my thirties and an author. My real name is the one I usually write under. You may have read my books while tackling the humdrum morning commute to work. They are historical fiction about romance in a century long past. In my normal life, I wear Reiss clothing and buy cushions from John Lewis. I'm also in an open marriage. Some nights, I dress up in black tie and go to elite sex parties. My husband and I have regular encounters with others: couples, single women and men. We engage in orgies and trysts all over the world. It's a hobby, a vibrant extension of our already full lives, like the time I smiled at a drop-dead gorgeous guy at a party in Mayfair who followed me to the toilets, pushed me against the wall and kissed me, slipping his hands under my dress. The delicious feeling of being wanted, and of wanting, is something addictive and hard to let go of. Words like polyamory, polycule (a network of people involved in sexual relationships) and throuple seem to be everywhere. Non-monogamous sex is suddenly on TV, both in the plotlines of dramas such as The Couple Next Door and reality shows. It's in buzzy confessional memoirs and being spoken about by Gillian Anderson. One study by the Kinsey Institute and Feeld found that 24 per cent of millennials like me have expressed a preference for ethical non-monogamy. While another survey found that 95 per cent of men and 87 per cent of women have fantasised about a threesome, though only about 18 per cent of men and 10 per cent of women have had one. • The monogamy myth — we're proof that open marriages are happy Richard and I used to be like any regular couple. If you saw us wandering through Borough Market in London, comfortable and in sync, you'd never guess our secret. We met at a redbrick university in the north of England and for ten years we were really happy with our lives as they were. When I first saw him in a bar, he was kissing my university flatmate. He was tall, with jet black hair and a slow smile. I found him attractive, feeling a twinge of jealousy that she'd found him first. At 21 I'd only had sex once, with a guy who'd been kind and handsome, but our sexual encounter was over almost as soon as it began and I'd been disappointed, wondering if it even counted as losing my virginity. Weeks later, when their brief fling was over, he kissed me on the dancefloor on St Patrick's Day after numerous pints of Guinness. We still joke that without it, our love story might never have begun. So far, so conventional. Post-university, his job took him abroad; my master's kept me in London. We spanned continents, speaking daily via Skype. I wrote my first novel, he built his new life abroad and then I joined him. We came back to the UK to marry and I dreamt of a life in the countryside — a stone house scattered with children's belongings, maybe a dog. Read more expert advice on sex, relationships, dating and love We found the house — a cottage with roses round the door — but a baby wasn't as forthcoming. Despite my husband's caution, I told everyone we were trying. But as the months slipped by, turning to years, the happy-go-lucky mask I'd always worn began to slip. I became impatient, frustrated, envious of the friends who were conceiving all around me. Sex became a means to an end. I kept an ovulation chart in my desk drawer, taking my temperature and pouncing on Richard when my cervix was open. Doctors poked, prodded and scanned me, and there was no conclusive medical reason that I wasn't getting pregnant. Our next step was IVF, but the cost and strain felt overwhelming. • Want a happy relationship? Monogamy is not the only way, study finds Over time, desire itself vanished. Richard expresses his love through touch, and my aversion to it felt like a rejection of him. I'd look at him and still find him attractive, but I just couldn't face sex. Bedtime became a source of dread. I remember one night, he reached for me. As I made an excuse, familiar disappointment flickered across his face before he turned out the light, and guilt washed over me. So I reached for him in the dark but, sensing my pity, he pushed me away. I lay awake for hours afterwards, worried I'd broken us and knowing something needed to change. I tried to find a way back to my body, taking long baths followed by hesitant masturbation. Initially, I felt numb, almost resentful. But with persistence, sensation returned, followed by fantasies. Long-dormant images resurfaced, many featuring women: intense feelings for my schoolfriend; a fantasy of being a maid seduced by an older couple. These desires hinted at a part of myself I'd never fully acknowledged, a potential attraction to women that had always lingered beneath the surface of my heterosexual experiences. The intensity of these feelings surprised me. Did I like women? I told my husband what I was feeling even though I was concerned that, with one confession, I might wipe out our ordinary life. Yet his response was one of curiosity and a deep desire for my happiness. He suggested that exploring these feelings, rather than suppressing them, might ease the pressure in our relationship. For him, seeing me struggle for years over failed pregnancy tests had been difficult, and he hoped this might bring me some relief. We discussed having a threesome. Over the next few weeks, the thought nagged at me, and I couldn't help feeling excited as well as terrified. Maybe this would be the thing to reignite the excitement we used to share when travelling the world, when our life wasn't so consumed with the idea of a baby. So over a glass of wine, we set up a dating profile on the alternative dating app Feeld, where people go to look for things conventional dating sites might not offer. Now I see the people who search for fulfilment of their deepest desires as brave, but then it felt as if we were entering a realm of people I didn't understand and frankly I found their penchant for whips, chains and orgies overwhelming. I typed the bio, being the writer. 'We are looking for a third, a woman, to join us.' We used decoy jobs and fake names, terrified of being seen by anyone we knew. We searched for likely candidates on the sofa in the evenings while watching cooking programmes. Weeks later, we found V. We met her at a Sheffield shopping centre on a mundane Tuesday afternoon. Among shoppers, we crossed the motorway to a Travelodge. I didn't fancy her at first. Nervous jokes in the lift preceded the sudden intimacy of the hotel room. What-ifs rose up and I was afraid: would this break us? What if I felt jealous? What if our reactions differed? It felt like a significant gamble. I looked around the drab hotel room, the mundanity of the small kettle, tea set and the clinical bathroom making me wonder what the hell we were doing here. I'd imagined a glamorous suite above the city, a context suited to a transcendental experience. I wondered how to voice the fact I'd changed my mind. Luckily, V took control: leading me to the bed and kissing me. It felt like cocktails in the sun, like coming home, like a door opening to a new place. When she kissed my husband, I searched myself for jealousy but found only fascination at this new thing. Watching them, I felt a strange pride in him, a sense of ownership, empowered by facilitating this shared pleasure. For him, it was a release, a physical reconnection free from the weight of expectation. After that, we didn't look back. We attended our first party and had sex with another couple in a cage. Everyone wore masks until 11pm and the setting was sultry, glamorous and everything that had been missing from our first encounter. The feeling of escaping the real world into a beautiful, sexy environment is a crucial part of our extracurricular activities for me. There was the time we met another couple in a club in London who were going to Ibiza the next day. They invited us to come with them and we did, spending four sun-soaked days having fun on beaches, on boats, in hotel rooms. The vibe between us all felt amazing — until we arrived home and found they'd blocked us. We'll never know the reason, and commiserated together. We'd read about ghosting but hadn't experienced it until then. • The English teacher who's become the face of polyamory I've gained profound self-knowledge and confidence, reconnecting with my body and, perhaps for the first time, considering my own desires, not just pleasing a partner. Unlike conventional narratives of non-monogamy, we are united, side by side on this adventure, simultaneously supported and free. This path isn't for every marriage; it demands unwavering foundations and open communication. Every time we attend a party or meet others we are entering dangerous territory, and it requires constant effort and honesty. I will tell my husband when I like someone — talking about it can be part of the fun. I don't harbour secret fantasies and neither does he. We are honest about everything, perhaps more than most people reading this, and that honesty spreads to the rest of our lives. Putting our marriage at risk repeatedly reinforces our primary bond, as we actively choose each other as the one we commit to, despite playing with others. My mum was the one to notice the change in me. Once, she asked me what me and Richard were on, because she wanted some of it. She could see that whatever was happening was making us stronger. My parents are (as far as I know) in a conventional marriage, and my own childhood was anchored in their loving, near-perfect bond. On a girls' shopping trip with my mum, I decided to tell her over lunch at the Ivy. Obviously, I was nervous. My relationship with both my parents is uncomplicated, supportive and incredible, and my admission had the capacity to destroy that. Mum asked lots of questions, interested in the specifics of how things worked and the logistics more than anything. I answered all of them. She told me that as long as I was happy, that was all that mattered. She said it all sounded rather fun (for me). On the way home, she sent me a message that simply said go forth and conquer the world. My dad still doesn't know. He is a traditional man who believes in marriage and God. I think he'd want to understand, but our relationship has a purity that I can't quantify, and I don't want to take the risk. Sometimes there are nights when it feels like we're living inside a glamorous movie. But there are other times when we've had fun at a party and he wants the night to continue. I have been known to sneak back to our room in the hotel and watch QI and then go back and join him later, or simply go to bed. • My husband and I sleep with other people — but there are rules We can read each other much better now, as often we have to work out what the other is thinking when we are in company. And I've learnt to be more forthright and not just go along with things, which has helped me be more direct in the rest of my life. I often wonder what that dreamy girl at university would make of the love she's found. I used to think love was adoration and self-surrender. Now, I believe it's wanting the best for your partner, choosing them above all others, except for yourself. It's a love that is empowering. I have no idea how we will evolve, but I'm definitely here for the ride. Me, You, Them: A Memoir of Modern Love by Evie Sage (Michael Joseph, £20). To order a copy go to or call 020 3176 2935. Free UK standard P&P on online orders over £25. Special discount available for Times+ members Names have been changed
The Guardian
4 days ago
- Politics
- The Guardian
Considering an open relationship? Don't read this Reddit forum
It all started with Elon Musk's black eye. In May, the President's on-again-off-again best friend appeared in the Oval Office visibly bruised. He laughed it off and said his five-year-old child had done it. The internet had other ideas. Soon, a round of extremely unconfirmed speculation began about an alleged – and I cannot stress the word 'alleged' enough – throuple: Musk; Trump's deputy chief of staff, Stephen Miller, and his wife, political adviser Katie Miller. The Democrats even weighed in with a post of an empty hotel room chair, a notorious signpost of cuckoldry. I'm not alone in finding perverse joy in other people's relationship dramas. Reddit's crowdsourced advice sections, particularly r/relationships and r/amitheasshole, have long been staples of viral posts. They're portable soap operas – or in some cases, sitcoms – with the added spice that they're (probably, sometimes, maybe) real. The Musk-Miller saga led me to r/openmarriageregret, a subreddit mining and reposting threads from other relationship and polyamory boards for cautionary tales of open relationships gone wrong. Maintaining a relationship with another human being contorts us into new ugly shapes. Maintaining a relationship with two or more other human beings can break us apart. The page opens with a sober preamble: 'Life is about choices. Some we regret, some we are proud of – and some will haunt us for ever.' It's all very 'don't try this at home'. Sure. This is for educational purposes. Many posts are as you'd imagine: a man pressures his wife into an open relationship and is then shocked to discover that she's a sought-after 10 and he's sexual kryptonite. But things can get so much worse. One user asks if they're in the wrong 'for leaving our honeymoon because my husband and his boyfriend kept leaving me and my girlfriend out'. Another writes of a very contemporary woe: 'My husband wants to open our marriage for his AI girlfriend and says it's the next step in their relationship.' Her partner has been acting distant lately, she says, spending a lot of time on the phone, smiling to himself, hiding away in the home office. Then he says he has something to tell her. Is he having an affair? No. It's far worse. The user continues: 'He told me he wants to take the next step with her.' This involves introducing the AI to their children. 'How do I stay married to someone who's half emotionally checked out of our life and into a fucking chatbot?' In the comments, several people share their experience of male partners becoming enamoured of a simulation of a woman who doesn't talk back and is programmed to think everything he says is brilliant. The voyeurism of the group is twofold: of course the relationship dramas are engaging. But so are the way people discuss these real scenarios. The commenters bring their own baggage and bias, perhaps not realising they're part of the drama themselves. The group's diehards subscribe to one central thesis: that those opening their relationships want novelty and attention, and the person who provides this is functionally irrelevant. The thesis, of course, doesn't necessarily hold water. As much as non-monogamy continues to rise, we've been gawking at successful open arrangements for decades. Not that it matters to the group's frequenters, who forge forward in their cynicism, however misinformed. 'I know absolutely no one in an open relationship or marriage,' says one user, who is in the top 1% of commenters in the group. I know, by my slightly unsettling investment in the group, that I'm complicit. But I can't look away. Who are these commenters? Who hurt them? Why are they so devoted to other people's romantic dramas, their crumbling marriages? Why am I? The emotional zing of gossip is strong. Even the usually humourless Democrats are in on it. So, putting ill will to one side: I truly hope the alleged Musk-Miller polycule patch things up. Alleged! I mean alleged! They're made for each other.
The Guardian
4 days ago
- Politics
- The Guardian
Considering an open relationship? Don't read this Reddit forum
It all started with Elon Musk's black eye. In May, the President's on-again-off-again best friend appeared in the Oval Office visibly bruised. He laughed it off and said his five-year-old child had done it. The internet had other ideas. Soon, a round of extremely unconfirmed speculation began about an alleged – and I cannot stress the word 'alleged' enough – throuple: Musk; Trump's deputy chief of staff, Stephen Miller, and his wife, political adviser Katie Miller. The Democrats even weighed in with a post of an empty hotel room chair, a notorious signpost of cuckoldry. I'm not alone in finding perverse joy in other people's relationship dramas. Reddit's crowdsourced advice sections, particularly r/relationships and r/amitheasshole, have long been staples of viral posts. They're portable soap operas – or in some cases, sitcoms – with the added spice that they're (probably, sometimes, maybe) real. The Musk-Miller saga led me to r/openmarriageregret, a subreddit mining and reposting threads from other relationship and polyamory boards for cautionary tales of open relationships gone wrong. Maintaining a relationship with another human being contorts us into new ugly shapes. Maintaining a relationship with two or more other human beings can break us apart. The page opens with a sober preamble: 'Life is about choices. Some we regret, some we are proud of – and some will haunt us for ever.' It's all very 'don't try this at home'. Sure. This is for educational purposes. Many posts are as you'd imagine: a man pressures his wife into an open relationship and is then shocked to discover that she's a sought-after 10 and he's sexual kryptonite. But things can get so much worse. One user asks if they're in the wrong 'for leaving our honeymoon because my husband and his boyfriend kept leaving me and my girlfriend out'. Another writes of a very contemporary woe: 'My husband wants to open our marriage for his AI girlfriend and says it's the next step in their relationship.' Her partner has been acting distant lately, she says, spending a lot of time on the phone, smiling to himself, hiding away in the home office. Then he says he has something to tell her. Is he having an affair? No. It's far worse. The user continues: 'He told me he wants to take the next step with her.' This involves introducing the AI to their children. 'How do I stay married to someone who's half emotionally checked out of our life and into a fucking chatbot?' In the comments, several people share their experience of male partners becoming enamoured of a simulation of a woman who doesn't talk back and is programmed to think everything he says is brilliant. The voyeurism of the group is twofold: of course the relationship dramas are engaging. But so are the way people discuss these real scenarios. The commenters bring their own baggage and bias, perhaps not realising they're part of the drama themselves. The group's diehards subscribe to one central thesis: that those opening their relationships want novelty and attention, and the person who provides this is functionally irrelevant. The thesis, of course, doesn't necessarily hold water. As much as non-monogamy continues to rise, we've been gawking at successful open arrangements for decades. Not that it matters to the group's frequenters, who forge forward in their cynicism, however misinformed. 'I know absolutely no one in an open relationship or marriage,' says one user, who is in the top 1% of commenters in the group. I know, by my slightly unsettling investment in the group, that I'm complicit. But I can't look away. Who are these commenters? Who hurt them? Why are they so devoted to other people's romantic dramas, their crumbling marriages? Why am I? The emotional zing of gossip is strong. Even the usually humourless Democrats are in on it. So, putting ill will to one side: I truly hope the alleged Musk-Miller polycule patch things up. Alleged! I mean alleged! They're made for each other.
The Sun
14-07-2025
- Entertainment
- The Sun
Watching my best pal romp with my hubby turns me on – I listen to their moans of pleasure, it makes my marriage better
IT looks like a complicated four-way relationship. But these two couples say their bond is so close they are totally happy swapping partners for sex. IT'S 'double date' night for best pals Amy Barr and Emily Spice – and together they crack open a bottle of wine with their husbands. Like any other close friends, the women share everything from make-up and clothes to their deepest secrets. But it doesn't end there, because they split one more thing that most women would never dream of — sex with their fellas. After watching a film, Amy, 43, sidles up to Emily's husband Darren. She strokes his thigh and, rather than being angry, Emily, 31, sees this as a cue to kiss Amy's other half Ben full on the lips. Sparks fly and it isn't long before Amy leads Darren, 33, by the hand into a different room, while Emily and Ben follow their lead and head to another. Soon, both 'couples' are having sex — hearing their spouses enjoying themselves from afar only adds to this foursome's fun. 'Strong marriages' Emily explains: 'It's incredibly sexy, you get to have the other person all to yourself, but with the added excitement of hearing your husband having fun and letting your imagination run wild about what he's doing. And it's even naughtier than witnessing it.' This rather unusual arrangement started three years ago, and Amy and Emily have swapped husbands regularly since — there's not a whisper of envy among them. Amy — who lives with wind turbine engineer Ben, 41, and her teen children near Margate, Kent — says: 'People ask if we worry that we'll fall for each other's husbands, but of course we won't. This is just fun and sex. I've never had a friend like Emily before — she's 'my person'. Watch the moment swinger strips off for romp with stranger - while husband awkwardly chats about pizza 'We both have strong marriages. It's easy to compartmentalise it. Darren and I are completely incompatible. I'd drive him mad in a relationship — I'm always late to everything and he loves a routine. 'And Ben and Emily are far too similar to each other — they're both quite headstrong. Our marriages work just the way we are. 'Swapping partners enhances everything. We're swingers anyway, but it's only with Darren and Emily that we do it in separate rooms — that's how much we trust them.' Emily, a tattoo artist and content creator from Croydon, South London, agrees: 'We are all amazing friends — that's what really bonds us. The sex is just an extra. 'Amy and I also have sex with each other as we are bisexual, but the boys don't play one on one.' Having sex with multiple partners has recently been on the rise. Swinger's club This foursome are two of a growing number of couples turning their backs on traditional, monogamous relationships. According to research by dating app Hinge, one in five users 'would consider' trying out an open relationship, while one in ten has already been involved in one. The couples met at a swingers' club in Maidstone, Kent, in August 2022. They didn't have sex that night, but the women got chatting and swapped numbers. Soon, they were swapping husbands, too. Amy explains: 'We'd gone along to find out what it was all about after watching a TV show about open relationships.' Initially, Emily and Amy sparked up a friendship. Four months later, they had their first swinging night together. They meet up regularly and the women say it's friendship that ties them together, not sex. 'That's secondary to the fact we all get on really well,' says Emily. 'We've seen each other through everything. In January 2023, security guard Darren had surgery in Lithuania to remove loose skin after he lost a lot of weight. 'He nearly died while he was there as he had a previously undiagnosed blood condition. He needed ten transfusions and four emergency operations. 'Amy and Ben were my rocks — on the phone constantly, keeping me company and reassuring me.' According to the latest figures, 11 per cent of women and 33 per cent of men are now open to welcoming a third person into their relationship, and over a million of us admit to enjoying group sex. 5 Depending on how the mood takes them, these two couples have sex around twice a month. 'We pre-plan if we're going to play together or in separate rooms as we need to all be in the right frame of mind,' says Emily. 'We'll set a timer for an hour and only play for that long and text the group chat when we are done.' Amy says: 'They are the only couple we trust enough to do this with. A lot of enjoyment from swinging comes from witnessing your partner's pleasure. And you feel safe as you're part of the action and can reach out and touch the other person and see how they're feeling. 'But we know each other so well that we felt able to push the boundaries further. 'It adds a different element if you can't see what's happening. It feels more illicit, especially if you can hear the moans of pleasure. The sex I have with Darren is intense, but it is just sex.' Emily adds: 'I have a slight BDSM side to me which I explore with Ben as it isn't something that comes naturally to Darren. I enjoy doing something different, but there is no connection with us. 'If there is a twinge of insecurity then we talk about it openly.' Emily and Darren discovered swinging shortly after they got married five years ago. 'Prior to that, I'd only slept with one other man,' says Emily. 'Since then, I've played with 117. It started soon after our wedding. We went to a naturist resort just to enjoy being naked in a hot tub. The venue turned into a swingers' club at night. 'We ran away when the action started, but both of us were curious so went back the next night and it went from there. 'But you can only do it if you've got a strong marriage. It's a misconception that people do it because they're bored of sex with their partner. Our sex life has always been amazing.' Amy adds: 'Swinging has brought us closer together. You can only do it if you trust each other completely.' Whatever happens, Amy insists she will be Emily's friend for life. She says: 'We love each other's company. We've all been away to swingers' events.' Amy adds. 'Last year, we rented a cabin in Kent and spent the weekend reading, cooking and gossiping. Though at the end of the night we did all have sex with each other.' Emily adds: 'Our lives have become so entwined, we love sharing everything — especially our husbands.' Ben says: 'What's not to love? We're all super-close friends with the added benefit of having great sex with each other.' Darren adds: 'I never expected this when we got into the swinging lifestyle. 'When I talk to vanilla friends, some people say they couldn't do it as they'd be too jealous. But others think I'm really lucky.' HONESTY KEY FOR COUPLES By SALLY LAND, Sun Relationship Expert IT'S entirely possible for couples to make an open relationship work as long as they are secure in themselves and neither are the jealous types. It's also crucial that both partners are strong communicators – regularly checking in with each other and working through any issues. I'm not saying non-monogamy can't work but, judging from the contents of my mailbox, once you add in a third, or fourth, person, relationships become a lot more complicated and regularly crumble. Plenty more people are willing to try opening up their relationship but that doesn't mean it's a better option. We hear a lot from people who enjoy swinging and swapping but we rarely learn about relationships and families that break up when swinging and non-monogamy goes wrong. Of course bringing a new partner into a relationship will make it more sexually exciting, but all relationships are complicated and I'm not sure that's worth gambling with – especially if you have children. My support pack Non Monogamy explains a lot more. If you would like some free advice from me and my counselling team, please email us on deardeidre@
Geek Feed
02-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Geek Feed
Trailer for NEON's Splitsville is a Silly Take on Open Marriages
Besides new views on the LGBTQ+ movement, there has also been new progressive thoughts on modern relationships, and more people are hearing about open marriages
