Open Relationships: When Sexual Liberation Meets Tuesday Morning Carpools
A psychotherapist's perspective on open relationships: The research, the risks, and what nobody tells you about navigating non-monogamy with kids involved.
When couples tell me they’re considering an open relationship, I don’t reach for the celebratory champagne or the moral panic button. Instead, I challenge them to confront a key reality: The success or failure of consensual non-monogamy depends less on the idea itself and more on the context, motivations, and resources each couple brings to it. The decision isn’t inherently wise or foolish. It’s deeply situational.
A cautionary tale
Molly Roden Winter’s recent memoir, More: A Memoir of Open Marriage (reviewed by The Guardian), offers a candid account of this journey. She and her husband opened their marriage while raising young children in Brooklyn—not because their sex life was failing, but because she felt lost in motherhood and craved more space. Her husband had planted the seed years earlier: extramarital relations weren’t a deal-breaker, but lying was. What started as “just sexual adventures” quickly became more complicated. They established rules—no sleepovers, no seeing the same person twice in one week, and crucially, don’t fall in love. But rules designed in the abstract have a nasty habit of collapsing on contact with actual human emotions. One by one, restrictions were lifted, often breached by Winter herself first. The carefully constructed guardrails proved unenforceable when someone’s texting their secondary partner at 2 a.m. or canceling family plans for a weekend away. The book ends with both partners having fallen in love with other people—ironically the one rule that was supposed to hold.
This pattern is not unusual. Couples in open relationships often separate when faced with unexpected complications, or they evolve into polyamorous relationships—which involves having multiple committed relationships, each with unique emotional needs. These outcomes differ greatly from the original fantasy of consequence-free sexual freedom.
The key takeaway from the memoir is that open relationships exist in a messy gray area between “thoughtfully structured polyamory with clear communication protocols” and “a thinly veiled excuse to cheat with a permission slip.” Most fall somewhere in between, navigating a blurry territory with few maps and even fewer honest accounts of what happens when the initial excitement of sexual liberation fades and gives way to the reality of the mundane demands of daily life.
The seductive appeal of having your cake
Modern Western culture has created an unrealistic romantic ideal: That one person should fulfill all of our needs, including emotional intimacy, passionate sex, intellectual stimulation, co-parenting, financial collaboration, and friendship. Listed that way, it sounds less like a reasonable expectation and more like a job posting for a superhero.
Open relationships promise a pragmatic solution: spread those needs among several people. Your main partner manages home and parenting. Someone new offers the sexual variety evolution wired us to crave. Another provides intellectual companionship. Your spouse may be busy with everything else.
While this “division of labor” makes a certain practical sense, the reality of human emotions is far more chaotic and unpredictable than we expect.
DNA studies of hunter-gatherers suggest that our Paleolithic ancestors had more flexible relationship patterns. Around 15,000 years ago, small human groups living in tribes were likely not strictly monogamous or polyamorous by today’s standards. While stable pair bonds helped with child-rearing and survival, some sexual flexibility occurred depending on status, scarcity, or circumstance. Sexual norms were practical, not moralized.
What the research actually shows
The research on open relationships reveals something both hopeful and sobering: They can work, but not more successfully than monogamous relationships, and often at a significantly higher cost.
Studies show that the levels of relationship satisfaction are similar among non-monogamous and monogamous couples. This finding is encouraging until you consider selection bias. People drawn to non-monogamous relationships tend to be higher in openness, less jealous, less sensitive to negative emotions, and also better communicators. These are all traits that can benefit any relationship.
When researchers control for these personality factors, the picture becomes murkier. Time allocation becomes a zero-sum game. Every hour spent building a secondary relationship is an hour not invested in your primary partnership or, critically, in your kids. And contrary to the polyamorous ideology that love multiplies infinitely, attention and energy decidedly do not.
Key takeaway: Time and energy are finite. With every additional relationship, couples divert resources from their primary partnership and children. Success in open relationships requires honest recognition of these unavoidable trade-offs.
The most consistent predictor of open relationship success? Whether it was truly mutually desired from the beginning or proposed by one partner as a fix for existing problems. Starting an open relationship as a solution to address relationship dissatisfaction is like treating a broken leg by learning to juggle—technically possible, but missing the point entirely.
The architecture of jealousy
In open relationships, jealousy operates like water in a house with a shaky foundation—it seeps through every crack.
The polyamory community has coined the neologism “compersion” to describe the experience of feeling joy or compathy when your partner experiences pleasure, love, or sexual intimacy with someone else. This ideal state is presented as achievable through personal growth and emotional maturity.
This is partly true and partly wishful thinking. A few people genuinely experience compersion. Many others spend months in therapy trying to intellectually override an emotional response that evolution spent millennia hardwiring into our nervous systems. Telling someone they should feel happy about their partner’s outside emotional or sexual connection when they actually feel threatened is like suggesting they should enjoy spoiled milk if they just reframe their perspective.
Honest accounts from non-monogamous partners reveal that jealousy never fully disappears. At best, it’s managed. And managing jealousy requires constant emotional effort, frequent discussions, and a degree of self-awareness and emotional maturity that most people cannot maintain while working, managing a household, and raising kids.
When kids enter the equation
When children are involved, open relationships face more serious psychological challenges. Kids don’t fare well with parental relationships that operate like a revolving door for adult attachments. They need stability, consistency, and the sense that their caregivers’ attention isn’t continually diverted to managing complex romantic or sexual configurations.
Research on children in polyamorous families remains limited, but what exists suggests that they can adapt to multiple adult figures if those relationships are stable and well integrated into family life. The word to remember here is “stable.” When secondary partners cycle in and out—forming attachments with children only to disappear when the adult relationship ends—it creates the kind of emotional roller coaster that keeps child psychotherapists fully employed.
There’s also the practical matter that children consume whatever emotional and temporal resources you imagine you have left over. The fantasy of maintaining multiple romantic relationships while being present, engaged parents rarely survives contact with the reality of homework supervision, Saturday morning soccer practice, and the tummy bug that inevitably strikes at 2 a.m.
The communication myth
Advocates of open relationships emphasize communication as the cornerstone of success. They’re not wrong, but they often underestimate the magnitude of the challenge. It’s not just monthly check-ins; it’s constant negotiation of boundaries, schedules, emotional states, and the ever-evolving and messy dynamics of multiple relationships.
This is where initial rules set with good intentions tend to crumble. Agreements such as “no sleepovers,” “no falling in love,” or “family comes first” seem straightforward. But enforcing them requires a capacity for emotional compartmentalization that most people lack. How do you respond if your partner breaks a rule? There is no relationship court. Punishment or retaliation doesn’t work. Boundaries blur when real feelings and competing loyalties emerge.
Most monogamous couples have difficulty communicating effectively about everyday topics such as social life, household chores, and vacation planning. Adding the complexity of multiple relationships does not tend to improve these skills. It puts them to the test in ways that often reveal the cracks.
The couples I’ve seen navigate open relationships successfully don’t just communicate well—they do so obsessively. They have protocols for everything: scheduling, safer sex practices, emotional check-ins, and crisis management. They treat relationship maintenance like a part-time job because, functionally, it becomes one.
Power dynamics and the age-gap minefield
Ideally, open relationships offer both partners equal freedom. In practice, however, they often exacerbate existing power imbalances, particularly when one partner initiates the change or has more social or sexual opportunities. The partner who suggests the change often has someone in mind, giving them an advantage. Men are more likely to find casual sexual partners, while women are more likely to fall in love. These realities can undermine the intended fairness of the arrangement, leading to resentment and straining the bond in ways that good intentions alone cannot resolve.
Age makes these dynamics trickier. A 55-year-old man married to a 50-year-old woman may now attract partners in their twenties or thirties. His wife’s dating pool shrinks with age, owing to cultural biases. This wasn’t how things looked when the rules were set up in their thirties, but the numbers change with time.
The sexual dynamics of age-disparate couples introduce an additional layer of complexity. An older man who pursues significantly younger women often seeks an ego boost and the physical novelty that come with youth—a validation loop that has little to do with actual deficits in his primary relationship. Meanwhile, his wife may find that, although she has interested partners, they are often men of the same age who are also seeking younger women, or younger men who treat her as a novelty or a sexual kink rather than a genuine prospect. What starts as “equal freedom” becomes structurally unequal based on how the sexual marketplace values aging differently by gender. A 50-year-old man at the hotel bar with a 34-year-old lover is not representative of his wife’s experience. It’s a different game with different rules. Pretending otherwise distorts the narrative.
There’s one exception worth noting: Couples with significant age gaps who open their relationship because the older male partner genuinely cannot meet the younger partner’s sexual needs and fears that she might leave him. In these cases, the power dynamic can favor the younger partner. She gets sexual fulfillment while maintaining the companionship, stability, and often financial security of the primary relationship. However, even this seemingly generous arrangement carries risks. The older partner often underestimates the emotional toll of knowing his wife is sexually active elsewhere while he’s sidelined. If she develops genuine feelings for a sexual partner closer to her age, the “gift” of an open relationship could lead to his replacement.
Sometimes, this type of open arrangement isn’t explicitly negotiated. It exists in the willful blindness of looking the other way. The older spouse may suspect or even know, but they don’t ask questions or demand confessions. They maintain plausible deniability. This implicit open relationship operates under the “don’t ask, don’t tell” logic—a tacit agreement that preserving the marriage is more important than enforcing monogamy. In my experience as a therapist, this type of arrangement is arguably more common than formally negotiated open relationships, especially in long marriages where one partner has aged out of sexual capacity or interest. The psychological cost of this arrangement is its own silent burden: the pretense, the unspoken resentment, and the erosion of intimacy that comes from avoiding the truth. What looks like gracious accommodation from the outside often feels like slow-motion abandonment from the inside.
The exit strategy problem
Some couples open their relationship as a last-ditch attempt to avoid a painful divorce. When that doesn’t work, they don’t know how to go back to the way things were before without harboring resentment. Others realize midway through that non-monogamy is not for them. Yet, they struggle to end the experience without losing face or disappointing their partners.
The therapeutic question isn’t whether open relationships can work—they demonstrably can for some people. It’s whether a particular couple, with their specific attachment styles, personality traits, communication patterns, life circumstances, and honest motivations, has a realistic chance of making it work. And whether the likely benefits outweigh the very real costs to relationship stability, family cohesion, and personal well-being.
Making the decision wisely
If you’re considering opening your relationship, here are some honest questions worth thinking about:
Are both partners genuinely enthusiastic about this, or is one capitulating to avoid losing the relationship? Reluctant agreement isn’t consent; it’s the sound of a relationship slowly dying while trying to look progressive.
Do you have the time and energy to maintain multiple relationships? And I don’t mean theoretical time when you imagine you’ll be more efficient. I mean actual available hours after work, parenting, sleep, and the basic maintenance of existing primary relationships.
Can you tolerate a high degree of uncertainty and emotional discomfort? Because there will be both, frequently, often when you least expect it.
What happens if your partner falls in love with someone else? Not theoretically. Actually, imagine it. Your partner is texting someone else, “Good morning, my Love.” Planning trips without you. Experiencing relationship milestones with another person. If that thought makes you want to throw your phone into the wall, non-monogamy might not be your thing.
What are you actually trying to solve? If the answer involves fixing existing relationship issues rather than expanding from a place of growth, you’re building on sand.
Does your desire come from a genuine place, or is it influenced by a cultural narrative? There’s a cultural script that says it’s “cool” to be open to your partner sleeping with other people. According to this narrative, wanting monogamy means you’re possessive, insecure, or sexually repressed. But trying to override your inclination toward monogamy to fit a progressive ideology when you’re not wired for it is a recipe for misery disguised as personal growth.
Is your primary motivation a sexual fantasy? If you're drawn to an open relationship primarily because the idea of your partner with someone else turns you on, tread carefully. Fantasies exist in a contained psychological space where you control the narrative and can stop the tape when things get uncomfortable. Reality doesn't offer that luxury. The transgressive thrill that fuels your imagination can curdle into something painful when it involves actual people with their own agendas, your partner's genuine attraction to someone else, and emotions you can't script or control. The fantasy stays hot precisely because it isn't real. Making it real often kills what made it exciting in the first place.
The honest bottom line
Open relationships work for some people—those with high autonomy and openness, low neuroticism, emotional maturity, secure attachment, exceptional communication skills, and compatible partners who share those traits. For everyone else, they tend to exacerbate existing relationship problems while introducing new ones.
This isn’t a moral judgment. It’s a pattern recognition based on watching what actually unfolds when theory meets the chaos of human attachment, parental responsibility, and the stubborn reality that we have finite emotional resources.
You can choose consensual non-monogamy. You can also choose skydiving, swimming with sharks, or eating street food in unsafe locations. Some risks are worth taking. But it helps to understand what you’re risking, why you’re doing it, and whether your temperament is suited for that kind of challenge.
Ultimately, the question isn’t whether open relationships are good or bad, unless you and your partner adhere to a strict moral framework that forbids them. The important question is whether this relationship structure serves your actual life—not the life you fantasize about after overcoming your “limiting beliefs” about monogamy, but your messy, complicated, time-constrained life as it is now.
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