“I should tell you, I’m not great with monogamy , so I only do open relationships now,” read the WhatsApp message. Frozen in my once tranquil place on the sofa, I flicked away the notification as if its disappearance could erase the message’s existence. “What on earth does that mean?” I thought.
I was 21, still a child by my now 30-year-old eyes, and a recent graduate from university. And up until one fateful Tinder swipe, I was a staunch monogamist, totally subscribing to the romantic standard set by society’s long-standing affair with heterosexual monogamy. This new love interest’s message didn’t quite gel with my picture-perfect idea of what a long-term relationship should be.
I’ve never fancied marriage, but I did believe in monogamy. Despite a mild fixation on fairy tale romance, something about the text sent a tingling through my body – the concept of non-monogamy appealed to a part of my brain I’d long buried under the societal pressure to adhere to conventions. When my intriguing texter and I first met, it was supposed to be a fling.
I had just moved out of my university city to complete a master’s in London, but we got caught up in a whirlwind romance. At first, I thought that when he said he was into open relationships, this meant he was polyamorous. I bear no judgement on anyone who embraces polyamory; in fact, I admire the intelligence and patience it demands.
I just don’t have the emotional bandwidth to maintain multiple romantic relat.