Is Monogamy So Out It's Kinky?

“I think we might try it,” my friend divulges over the phone. “Like, just the two of you?” I am incredulous. “I think so,” he answers. “Even when he’s out of town?” He reflects. “I mean, I guess that too.” Beat. I posit, “I mean, that’s kind of hot if you think about it. The stakes are so high.” He says, “Yeah, we’ve never done anything like this before. It feels dangerous.” “Do you trust him?” I ask. “Sure!” he says. I pry further: “Do you trust yourself?” After a long pause, he replies, “I have no clue.” Aaaaand scene.

My close friend—we’ll call him Johnny—has been with his boyfriend for over three years. Since the inception of their partnership, there was a mutual understanding that the relationship would remain open when it came to a “gentleman’s intermission”— a term, originally coined by the television show 30 Rock, that has more editorial ring to it than “getting invited to a glory hole by a man on Sniffies.” This type of arrangement is par for the course in gay relationships and likely pre-dates the invention of Roman bathhouses. Whatever style of relationship you choose—an open relationship, ethical non-monogamy, polyamory—non-monogamous arrangements are increasingly becoming the default setting. A recent poll states that 32% of US adults say their ideal relationship is non-monogamous. Among millennials, it’s closer to 43%.

I am not a scientist or statistician by any means, but as something of a field researcher in the gay dating scene, I’d say the queer community has had monogamy on the “out” list for quite some time. “Well gay men, sure, but lesbians?” asks a source I invented—“Yes, even lesbians,” I assure that imaginary friend. If you’re not familiar with lesbian stereotypes, I’ll tell you the classic joke: What does a lesbian bring to the second date? A U-Haul (buh-dum-chhh). While the move-in-after-the-second-date cliché still exists in some sapphic circles, queer women have increasingly become just as indifferent to monogamy as Johnny and his partner. If I’m being completely honest, I’ve personally observed straight couples U-Hauling at a much faster rate.

With divorces equalling the amount of lasting marriages, this trend seems like the predictable swing of the pendulum as younger generations are less optimistic about the trappings of long-term relationships. Dating apps have done a good job of tempering expectations with a selection of exhaustive options: open, poly, ENM (ethically non-monogamous), seeking a third etc. In all of these arrangements, this much is clear: I am planning to fuck other people, but as long as we have a lot of conversations about it, it’s not cheating. No one is the bad guy. The only caveat is that you have to prepare to have an Olympic-level of stamina for having the “define the relationship” talk over - and over - and over again. We’re together except when we’re on business trips. We have sex with other people, but no emotional attachment outside of that. You can date other people as long as you disclose every detail with your partner. Or, you can do whatever you want, just keep it hidden. It’s a constant negotiation that, while tedious, ensures no one ends up “cucked” (unless that’s what you’re into!).

While monogamy may seem like a vestige of a bygone era, its place in the dating landscape has a unique flavor alongside the à la carte options of alternative relationship styles. To a person with a secure attachment style, monogamy is fairly straightforward: you love someone, they love you back, there is a foundation of mutual trust, and *poof* you have a ride-or-die ‘til the end. For someone like me, rudely described by my therapist as having “disorganized attachment,” the idea of monogamy sends me into a tailspin of existential dread. While the idea of security is appealing, the stakes are so much higher. Any transgression becomes a threat to an ever-lasting union. As someone that pinky promised my first girlfriend that we’d be together forever, there is a certain schoolyard optimism involved in taking the plunge into monogamy. (Spoiler alert: that pinky promise expired after about 2 years).

So if monogamy is so foolhardy and optimistic, why would anyone choose it in 2023? Most people would say love, security, a tax write-off—those are all valid reasons. But for the few of us like Johnny, myself, and the rest of the “disorganized attached” community, its appeal can lie in the perverse terror it inspires in us. Among all the “open” alternatives offered, monogamy is the biggest risk. If there is ethical non-monogamy, that implies its villainous counterpart, “unethical” non-monogamy—the artist formerly known as “cheating.” With monogamy, that spicy risk is always on the table.

I tend to think of modern-day monogamy as the Prisoner’s Dilemma. It sounds morbid, but hear me out. The Prisoner’s Dilemma is a game theory experiment that I first learned about at a children’s museum. While this theory is typically illustrated by two people who are arrested and isolated to elicit a confession, the exhibit had a child-friendly alternative with two water fountains. Two friends stand across from each other at separate fountains. Each of them can hit one button: Sip or Squirt. If you press “sip” your counterpoint will get a normal stream of drinking water. If you press “squirt” they will be sprayed in the face. If you both press “sip,” you both get drinking water. So nice! If only one of you presses sip and the other presses squirt, there will be a sore loser. If you both press squirt, nothing happens at all. Do you risk pressing “sip” and hope to god your friend hits “sip” too? Do you press “squirt” as a preemptive strike? The safest option is to press “squirt” because, best case scenario, you both did, and nothing happens. Worst case scenario, you spray your friend in the face. Either way, you walk away un-squirted. But that would be the selfish decision, wouldn’t it? Pressing “sip” is not only the compassionate choice, but a greater risk to yourself.

Monogamy feels like a decision to press “sip” even if you know there is a 50/50 chance of being betrayed, or worse, humiliated in a children’s science museum. With the risk of betrayal, the decision to trust is always a gamble. In that sense, monogamy feels dangerous. It’s risky. Maybe I’ve been corrupted by living in LA too long, but monogamy is starting to feel like the most transgressive option. And isn’t that kind of kinky when you think about it?