Tough Love: I Opened My Relationship—and Met Another Guy

Hi Abigail,

I was in my mid-20s when I started dating a man in his mid-40s. (His name is Simon.) He is one of the highest-quality men I’ve ever known, and we have been together almost five years now. However, one of the consistent challenges in our relationship has been the blended family dynamic: His ex-wife is a very difficult person (I had a restraining order against her for two years) and his child (now 14 and a half) has been a source of many disagreements for us.

Two years ago, I joined the Peace Corps to strengthen my Spanish skills and, to be honest, give Simon and his child (then 12) some much-needed time for one-on-one relationship building. Simon and I agreed to have an open relationship while I was in Peru. Well, tale as old as time, I met a guy in his late 20s (Giovanni) who flipped my world upside down when I was just a few months shy of completing my service. He is the inverse of Simon. Where Simon is steady and reliable, Giovanni is fiery and spontaneous. Where Simon wants peace, Giovanni is ambitious. Simon and I read books on the couch; Giovanni and I dance in the kitchen. Neither one of these is better or worse, just different.

I returned to the States and started my PhD program, and broke things off with Giovanni. Simon knows everything and wants us to recommit to each other and the relationship. However, I am now in the throes of uncertainty. Do I want to reenter the blended family dynamic and live as a cuckoo bird? Or leave a truly wonderful man in the hopes of building something wholly mine with someone in the same life phase as me?

— Erin, 29

Erin,

A friend once lost a bet and had to eat an entire 12 oz. box of Entenmann’s soft-baked chocolate chip cookies in one sitting. The cookies are delicious, arguably as close to just baked as one finds in shelf-stable goods, but a box contains 33 of them. When my friend reached the bitter end, he said, all he could taste was the salt.

That sensory overload, I think, is a reasonable stand-in for the sort of epistemological burden that an “open relationship” typically involves. You think you’re enjoying each partner without losing anybody. That’s the seductive proposition of “open.” But really, you’re blunting your ability to appreciate any one person. And wholly confusing yourself.