How Do You Set Boundaries in an Open Relationship Without Controlling Your Partner?

One of the first things couples tend to do when they decide to open their relationship is make rules. This makes perfect sense. You are stepping into unfamiliar territory, probably with at least some anxiety, and rules offer the reassuring possibility that if you can anticipate every dangerous situation in advance, nobody will get too hurt.

No sleepovers. No coworkers. No mutual friends. Always come home afterward. Don't go to our favorite restaurant. Tell me before anything happens. Don't tell me too much about what happened. No falling in love.

Some agreements are incredibly useful in an open relationship, and I am certainly not advocating for throwing them all out in the name of freedom. But I do think it's worth getting curious about what we're trying to accomplish with them. There is an important difference between creating agreements that help two people build the kind of relationship they both want and creating an increasingly elaborate system designed to prevent your partner from ever doing something that makes you uncomfortable.

This is where conversations about boundaries in an open relationship get complicated. A boundary should help you remain connected to yourself and make choices about what you will participate in. It shouldn't become a series of tests your partner has to continually pass in order to prove that you are safe.

Boundaries, rules, and agreements aren't quite the same thing

These words get used interchangeably in discussions about ethical non-monogamy (ENM) and polyamory, but I find it useful to separate them.

A boundary describes something about you: what you are comfortable participating in, what you need in order to stay in a situation, or what you will do if something happens.

An agreement is something you and your partner decide together about how you want your relationship to operate.

A rule generally tells another person what they can or cannot do.

For example, "You're not allowed to have sex with anyone when I'm out of town" is a rule. "Let's agree that neither of us will have new partners stay overnight in our shared home" is an agreement, assuming both people genuinely agree to it. "I'm not willing to have unprotected sex with you if you're having unprotected sex with other people" is a boundary.

The distinction isn't always perfectly clean, and I don't think you need to turn your relationship into a vocabulary quiz. What matters more is the spirit behind what you're creating.

If one person proposes a "boundary" and the other person's only choices are to comply or face anger, punishment, or accusations that they don't care about the relationship, calling it a boundary doesn't magically make it healthy.

Sometimes boundaries are really attempts to manage anxiety

When you're new to an open relationship or polyamory, anxiety can create an enormous appetite for certainty. If I know where you're going, who you're seeing, exactly what you're doing, when you'll be home, what feelings you're allowed to develop, and what happens afterward, maybe I can finally relax.

The problem is that anxiety is rarely satisfied for very long.

You solve one uncertainty and another appears. Now I know you'll text me before you have sex, but what if I don't see the text? What if you like them more than you expected? What if you do something we've never explicitly discussed? What if you fall in love?

At some point, it becomes worth asking whether your open relationship rules are helping you live according to your values or helping you avoid having to experience uncertainty (impossible).

One of the most difficult parts of consensual non-monogamy is accepting that you cannot create an agreement for every possible future situation. Your partner is a separate person who will have experiences you cannot completely predict or control. So will you. YAY! (right?)

This doesn't mean abandoning your needs. It means developing enough trust in yourself that safety doesn't depend entirely on getting everyone else to behave exactly as you anticipated.

Try following resonance instead of creating tests

When I'm helping people think about ENM boundaries, I'm often much more interested in what happens inside them than in immediately deciding what the rule should be.

Imagine that your partner tells you they want to spend the night with someone they're dating and you immediately feel a strong NO.

Instead of jumping straight to "Then my boundary is no sleepovers," there may be something useful in slowing down.

What exactly feels bad about it? Does sleeping over feel more emotionally intimate than sex? Are you afraid you'll be alone and panicking all night? Does it touch an old fear about being replaced? Are you worried about losing something that has always felt special between the two of you? Or, when you really listen to yourself, does this simply feel like something you don't want in the kind of relationship you are choosing?

Those answers matter.

The goal isn't to interrogate yourself until you can prove that every boundary is perfectly rational. You are allowed to have limits. But understanding where the limit comes from gives you considerably more information than simply turning discomfort into a prohibition.

Sometimes you discover that something genuinely doesn't work for you. Sometimes you discover that you are frightened but curious. Sometimes you realize that you don't actually care about the thing you were fighting about—you care about what you believe it means.

That's what I mean by following resonance. Rather than creating tests that your partner can either pass or fail, you pay attention to your experience, communicate it honestly, and make choices from there.

Your partner is allowed to dislike your boundary

This is another uncomfortable part of healthy boundaries.

If you say, "I don't want to be in a relationship where my partner has unprotected sex with other people," your partner is allowed to wish that were different.

They can be disappointed. They can decide that the relationship you're offering doesn't work for them. They can ask whether there are other possibilities you haven't considered.

What they cannot do is make you abandon yourself so that they don't have to experience disappointment.

The reverse is also true. A boundary isn't a way to make your partner choose what you want. If you say, "I can't stay in this relationship if you date other people," you may genuinely mean it. But your partner still gets to decide whether they want to date other people.

This is where non-monogamous relationships can require a tremendous amount of differentiation. You have to become more capable of saying, "This is what I want," while leaving room for another person to say, "I want something different."

Sometimes there is enough overlap to negotiate an agreement. Sometimes there isn't.

Good agreements should solve actual problems

Rather than making as many rules as possible before opening your relationship, I prefer agreements that are connected to identifiable needs.

Sexual health agreements are an obvious example. You might agree on testing schedules, barrier use, what kinds of changes need to be communicated, and what each person needs to know in order to make informed decisions about their own body.

Shared resources matter too. If you have children, limited free time, shared finances, or a home together, agreements about scheduling and logistics may be necessary so that ethical non-monogamy doesn't result in one partner having exciting dates while the other unexpectedly becomes the full-time household manager.

You might also have agreements about privacy, shared spaces, or how much information each person wants about other relationships.

The important thing is that these agreements should be revisable. You are making decisions based on what you know about yourselves now. Once you actually begin practicing non-monogamy, you will learn things you couldn't possibly have known in advance.

An agreement that made perfect sense six months ago may eventually become unnecessary. Another may turn out not to provide the protection you thought it would.

Changing an agreement isn't evidence that you failed at non-monogamy, quite the opposite. Each agreement at the beginning is somewhat of a hypothesis. Agreements can and should be revisited as new information is gained. This type of flexibility is required as you are growing and learning.

What happens when someone breaks an agreement?

This is often where couples get pulled back into the language of rules and punishment.

An agreement being broken matters. Trust matters. If your partner knowingly does something the two of you agreed they wouldn't do, "you can't control me" is not an adequate response.

But I would still want to understand what happened.

Was the agreement genuinely mutual, or did one person reluctantly accept it because opening the relationship otherwise wasn't going to happen? Was there a misunderstanding? Did someone avoid an uncomfortable conversation because they knew their desires had changed? Is this a one-time rupture that can be repaired, or part of a larger pattern of dishonesty?

The question isn't only, "Who broke the rule?" It's also, "What does this tell us about our relationship and the agreements we're trying to maintain?"

Accountability matters. So does curiosity.

When an open relationship coach or therapist can help

These conversations are difficult precisely because they aren't theoretical. You're trying to discuss autonomy, jealousy, sex, love, fairness, and fear with the person whose choices actually affect you.

That can make it remarkably difficult to distinguish between a genuine limit and an anxious attempt to control the outcome.

Working with a non-monogamy coach, open relationship coach, polyamory therapist, or ENM-informed couples therapist can give you somewhere to slow these conversations down. The goal shouldn't be for a professional to tell you which boundaries are "reasonable" or hand you the correct list of polyamory rules. I don't think there is one.

The more useful work is figuring out what each person actually wants, what you're afraid will happen, where your values overlap, and whether the agreements you're creating allow both people to maintain their agency.

This can be especially helpful when every conversation about boundaries turns into the same argument, or when one partner feels like they're constantly being controlled while the other feels like they're constantly being asked to tolerate things that hurt.

If you are interested in working with a coach and therapist with 15+ years of experience having these conversations, schedule a free 15 minute consultation with me here.

The goal isn't to become comfortable with everything

There can be an odd pressure in some non-monogamous spaces to become so evolved that nothing bothers you. Jealousy becomes something to conquer, boundaries become evidence of insecurity, and needing reassurance can start to feel embarrassingly unenlightened.

I don't think that's particularly useful (or accurate).

Healthy boundaries in polyamory and open relationships aren't about proving how little you need from anyone else. They're part of figuring out how to remain connected to yourself while being intimately connected to people who are separate from you.

You will probably encounter discomfort. Some of it will be worth getting curious about and moving through. Some of it will teach you something important about what you need. The tricky part is learning to tell the difference.

You don't need enough rules to guarantee that you'll never be hurt. No relationship structure can offer that.

What you need is enough self-trust to notice when something isn't working, enough honesty to talk about it, and relationships where everyone has enough agency to say what they actually want.

That creates something much more useful than control: the possibility of genuine agreement.

Frequently Asked Questions About Boundaries in Open Relationships

What are healthy boundaries in an open relationship?

Healthy boundaries help you communicate what you need, what you are comfortable participating in, and what you will do if something doesn't work for you. They aren't designed to control your partner's behavior or eliminate every uncomfortable feeling. Good boundaries in an open relationship leave room for both partners to have agency and make their own choices.

What's the difference between boundaries and rules in polyamory?

A boundary generally describes your own limits and choices, while a rule tells another person what they are allowed to do. Couples practicing polyamory or ethical non-monogamy may also create mutual agreements about things like sexual health, scheduling, shared spaces, and communication. The important question is whether both people genuinely consent to the agreement rather than one person complying because they're afraid of the consequences of saying no.

How do I set boundaries without being controlling?

Start by getting curious about what is underneath the boundary you want to set. Ask yourself what you're protecting, what you're afraid might happen, and what you actually need. You can communicate those needs clearly while recognizing that your partner is still a separate person who gets to decide what works for them. A boundary tells someone what you will participate in; it doesn't guarantee that they'll make the choice you want.

Are rules bad in an open relationship?

Not necessarily. Some open relationship rules and agreements can be practical and important, particularly around sexual health, shared finances, parenting, privacy, and scheduling. Problems tend to arise when rules are primarily being used to manage anxiety or when one partner doesn't genuinely agree to them. Agreements should also be revisited as you learn more about what actually works for your relationship.

Can a therapist or non-monogamy coach help us set boundaries?

Yes. An ENM-informed therapist, polyamory therapist, or non-monogamy coach can help you distinguish between boundaries, agreements, and attempts to control uncertainty. Rather than deciding which partner is right, the goal is to help both people clarify what they want, communicate more honestly, and create agreements that respect everyone's agency. Click here to schedule a free, 15 minute consultation with me to see if I would be a good fit to support you! If I am not, I will use that time to help direct you to some resources that could be useful for your particular situation.

My Partner Doesn't Want Sex as Much as I Do. What Do We Do?

There are few relationship problems that can make two otherwise reasonable people feel quite as terrible about themselves as wanting different amounts of sex.

If you are the person who wants more sex, you may have started wondering what the lack of sex means. Is my partner still attracted to me? Are we becoming roommates? Am I supposed to accept feeling sexually frustrated forever? You might miss sex itself, but you may also miss being pursued, feeling desirable, or having access to a kind of intimacy that is particularly important to you. After enough rejection, even a fairly confident person can start feeling vulnerable and resentful.

Meanwhile, your partner may be having an entirely different miserable experience. They know you want more sex. They know every affectionate touch has the potential to turn into an initiation. They may feel guilty about disappointing you and increasingly anxious about something that is supposedly meant to be pleasurable. Even if you are trying very hard not to pressure them, they may be putting plenty of pressure on themselves.

Eventually, you can end up in an absurd situation in which both people desperately want their sex life to improve, and almost everything they're doing to improve it is making it worse.

This is one of the most common problems I see in couples therapy. It is often described as a desire discrepancy, mismatched libido, or simply having different sex drives. I prefer "desire discrepancy," partly because "libido" can make it sound as though each of us has a fixed quantity of sexual desire stored somewhere in our bodies, like gasoline in a tank. In reality, desire is much more responsive to what is happening in our lives, bodies, and relationships.

Understanding that distinction can completely change the conversation.

Different sex drives are normal. What happens around the difference is where things get interesting.

If your goal is to find a partner who wants sex exactly as often as you do, under exactly the same circumstances, for the rest of your lives, I have unfortunate news about long-term relationships: sexual desire changes over time.

People get stressed, have children, age, change medications, become overwhelmed by work, deal with health problems, and sometimes discover entirely new parts of their sexuality. The person with higher desire today may not be the person with higher desire five years from now. Even without any of those changes, two people are unlikely to want sex at precisely the same moment every time.

The existence of a desire discrepancy, then, isn't necessarily evidence that something is wrong with your relationship or that you are sexually incompatible. The more important question is what happens between you when the discrepancy appears.

Can the person who wants sex ask for it without making the other person responsible for managing their disappointment? Can the person who doesn't want sex say no without becoming responsible for reassuring their partner for the rest of the evening? Can you talk about what each of you wants without immediately turning the conversation into a negotiation about how often you're going to have sex?

Those abilities have much more to do with the quality of your sexual relationship than whether one person would ideally like sex twice a week and the other would prefer twice a month.

If you're wondering whether differences like these mean that you simply don't fit sexually, I've written more about that in this article.

The pursuit-pressure problem

Let's say you are the partner who wants more sex.

You've initiated several times recently and been turned down. You try not to take it personally, but eventually you do. You start paying attention to how long it has been. Maybe you stop initiating because rejection feels awful, but then you're quietly waiting to see whether your partner notices. When they don't, that seems to confirm your worst fear: If I didn't make sex happen, we would never have sex at all.

Eventually you bring it up.

Your partner hears something like, "You aren't giving me enough sex."

They explain that work has been exhausting, or that they're stressed, or that it's difficult to want sex when they feel like you're monitoring how often it happens. You hear an explanation for why sex apparently isn't important to them.

Now you both have evidence for your respective cases.

The higher-desire partner pursues because they feel disconnected. The lower-desire partner experiences the pursuit as pressure and retreats. The retreat makes the higher-desire partner feel more rejected, so sex becomes even more emotionally loaded. Meanwhile, the lower-desire partner becomes increasingly vigilant about accidentally "leading them on," because cuddling on the couch might create an expectation they aren't prepared to fulfill.

This is how couples who genuinely love each other can gradually make affection itself feel dangerous.

If you recognize yourselves here, I would be cautious about treating "more sex" as the immediate solution. Before you can create more desire, you may need to make sex feel less consequential.

The lower-desire partner isn't necessarily the one with the problem

Once you've established that one person wants more sex, it is easy to decide that the person who wants less must have the sexual dysfunction. Now you have one normal person with a healthy libido and one person who needs to figure out what is wrong with them.

That framing is usually not very helpful.

There are certainly medical and physiological reasons for changes in sexual desire, and a significant or unexplained change is worth discussing with an appropriate medical provider. Medication, hormones, pain, sleep, depression, menopause and perimenopause, erectile difficulties, and other health factors can all affect sexuality.

But desire also responds to context.

I would want to know what the sex itself is like. I would want to know whether both people are enjoying it. I would want to know whether one person is consistently doing more giving than receiving, whether either person feels responsible for producing an orgasm, whether sex follows the same script every time, and whether the person who "doesn't want sex" actually doesn't want sexual pleasure—or simply doesn't particularly want the sex that is currently available to them.

Those are not the same thing.

This is especially important when sex has started to feel like a chore. If you regularly have sex because you feel guilty, because your partner has been disappointed lately, because it has "been too long," or because agreeing seems easier than having another conversation about why you aren't in the mood, your body can become very good at learning that sex is an obligation.

Then everyone is baffled about why you aren't spontaneously craving more of it.

Dutiful sex can solve tonight's problem while making the larger problem worse

I want to be nuanced about this because people have sex for all kinds of reasons. You do not have to begin every sexual experience overwhelmed by lust for it to be consensual, pleasurable, or worthwhile. Responsive desire is real, and sometimes you start out feeling fairly neutral and become interested once something pleasurable begins.

That's very different from repeatedly overriding yourself.

Duty sex can temporarily relieve tension in a relationship. The higher-desire partner feels wanted again. The lower-desire partner may genuinely enjoy making their partner happy, and perhaps they even enjoy parts of the sexual experience themselves. The conflict disappears for a while.

Unfortunately, if one person's sexuality repeatedly becomes the tool the couple uses to manage the other person's distress, there can be a cost. The lower-desire partner may gradually lose track of the distinction between I want this and I'm willing to do this, while the higher-desire partner may discover that more frequent sex doesn't actually resolve the loneliness if they suspect their partner is participating primarily to keep them happy.

I've written much more about this dynamic, including duty sex and what happens when pressure becomes associated with sexuality, in this article.

You need to talk about what "sex" means to each of you

When couples tell me they disagree about how much sex they should be having, I'm often interested in backing up quite a bit. What are we calling sex, and what are you actually missing when you say you want more of it?

For one person, sex may be the place where they feel most loved, playful, embodied, and connected. For another, sex may have become a fairly predictable sequence of activities that requires energy they don't currently have. One person may be asking for intercourse while the other would enthusiastically welcome making out, mutual masturbation, massage, or lying naked together without having to worry that stopping there will hurt someone's feelings.

Sometimes a couple's sex life has become so goal-oriented that there is very little room between "nothing sexual is happening" and "we are now having Sex™."

Finding that space can be enormously useful.

This is also where talking explicitly about sexual compatibility becomes important. Compatibility doesn't require two people to have identical desires. It requires enough honesty about what each person actually wants that you can find the places where your sexualities overlap.

That conversation can include frequency, but it should also include pleasure, touch, fantasies, initiation, novelty, turn-ons, turn-offs, boundaries, and what helps each of you feel relaxed enough for desire to emerge. You may discover that the overlap is considerably larger than you thought. You may also discover some genuine differences. Either way, you finally have useful information.

What if we aren't used to talking about sex?

This is where I think couples therapy, sex therapy, or coaching can be particularly valuable.

People sometimes assume that because they have been having sex together for ten or twenty years, they should be able to talk about it. Unfortunately, sexual experience and sexual communication are completely different skills.

You may be perfectly capable of saying, "We aren't having enough sex," and completely unable to say, "I miss feeling desired by you, and I'm embarrassed by how much that matters to me."

Or perhaps you can say, "I'm tired," but haven't figured out how to say, "I feel like sex has become something I provide for you, and I don't know where I am in it anymore."

Those are much more vulnerable conversations.

A therapist can help slow things down and notice when you start translating vulnerability into blame, defensiveness, or problem-solving. Sometimes I help people find words for something they can feel but haven't yet figured out how to articulate. Sometimes my job is simply to ask questions neither person realized they were allowed to ask.

Having a third person in the room can also make it easier to talk explicitly about sex. There is something remarkably powerful about discovering that the thing you've been too embarrassed to say out loud is, in fact, something another human being can hear without gasping or falling out of her chair. As a sex therapist, I find it is often so simply and straightforwardly helpful for people to hear me using plain language about sex.

You don't need to become people who casually discuss your sexual fantasies over breakfast. You just need enough language to let your partner actually know you. Even before the hyper-vulnerable emotional conversations, you may discover that you need help saying “Can you move your hand a little to the left and do that same thing you’re doing, but slower?”

What if the difference is real?

Sometimes, after removing pressure and resentment, improving communication, and getting much clearer about what both people want, a significant difference remains.

One person genuinely wants much more sexual connection than the other. Perhaps one person has desires their partner doesn't share, or sex occupies a fundamentally different place in each person's vision of a satisfying relationship.

I don't think therapy should try to talk people out of those differences. Part of healthy differentiation is being able to recognize that your partner is allowed to want something you don't want, without either of you having to become wrong.

For some couples, there is enough overlap to create a satisfying sex life despite significant differences. Others reconsider what sexuality needs to mean within their relationship. Some couples begin conversations about ethical non-monogamy or an open relationship, although I would be extremely cautious about treating non-monogamy as a pressure-release valve for a sexual relationship already filled with resentment or coercion. If one person is agreeing to an open relationship primarily because they're afraid their partner will otherwise leave, you haven't eliminated the pressure; you've changed its form.

If that's a possibility the two of you are considering, I would start with this article rather than assuming that adding other sexual partners will automatically solve a desire discrepancy.

For other couples, the difference ultimately reveals a genuine incompatibility that they have to decide how to live with. The purpose of couples therapy isn't to guarantee that every difference can be resolved. It's to help you understand the difference clearly enough that the two of you can make thoughtful choices about it.

A better question than "How often should we be having sex?"

I wish there were a correct number I could give couples. It would make this work considerably easier (but also probably way less fun!).

There isn't. What matters is whether both people have enough agency, pleasure, connection, and freedom within their sexual relationship.

If your partner doesn't want sex as much as you do, neither of you necessarily needs to be fixed. But the pattern you've built around that difference may need attention.

The higher-desire partner deserves to talk honestly about loneliness, desire, rejection, and the importance sexuality has in their life. The lower-desire partner deserves a sexual relationship in which saying no is genuinely safe and saying yes can mean something.

From there, you can get much more curious about what each of you actually wants. You can find the overlap instead of endlessly litigating the difference, and experiment with ways of connecting that don't require either person to abandon themselves to keep the relationship intact.

And perhaps most importantly, you can stop treating sex as a problem one of you needs to solve for the other and start treating your sexual relationship as something the two of you are creating together.

If these conversations repeatedly turn into arguments about who is asking for too much, who isn't trying hard enough, or whose needs matter more, that conflict may also be part of a larger relationship pattern. I talk more about that in this article.

If you want some support with this work, and think you and your partner could benefit from relationship counseling, couples therapy, or non-monogamy coaching, click here to schedule a free, 15 minute call with me to see if I could be a fit for you!

Frequently Asked Questions

Is it normal for couples to have different sex drives?

Yes. Differences in sexual desire are extremely common, and desire can change throughout a relationship in response to stress, health, hormones, parenting, relationship dynamics, and many other factors. A mismatched libido does not automatically mean you are sexually incompatible.

Can couples therapy help with mismatched libidos?

Yes. Couples therapy can help identify the patterns that have developed around sexual desire, including pressure, rejection, resentment, avoidance, and difficulty communicating about sex. Therapy can also help couples talk more explicitly about pleasure and find areas of genuine sexual overlap.

Does low sexual desire mean my partner isn't attracted to me?

Not necessarily. Attraction is only one factor affecting sexual desire. Stress, pressure, resentment, exhaustion, medication, physical health, relationship dynamics, and the quality of the sexual experiences themselves can all affect whether someone wants sex.

Can an open relationship help if we have different sex drives?

For some people, ethical non-monogamy is a relationship structure that allows partners to explore different sexual desires. However, opening a relationship generally works poorly as a quick solution to pressure, resentment, or conflict about sex. Both partners need genuine freedom to decide whether non-monogamy is something they actually want.

What if we've tried talking about sex and it always turns into a fight?

This is a particularly good reason to consider couples therapy or sex therapy. A therapist can help you identify the pattern that takes over when you discuss sex, put language to more vulnerable experiences underneath the conflict, and create enough space for both partners to talk honestly without immediately having to solve the problem.

Are We Sexually Compatible?

One of the most difficult things about sexual problems in a relationship is figuring out what kind of problem you are actually having.

Sometimes the problem seems obvious. You want sex much more often than your partner does, or they want it much more often than you do. Maybe one of you wants to try things that the other person has no interest in. Maybe you have plenty of sex, but it rarely feels particularly satisfying or connected. Maybe you love each other deeply and have a wonderful relationship in every other area, but when it comes to sex, you keep finding yourselves having the same disappointing conversation.

And eventually, one of you starts wondering: Are we just sexually incompatible?

It's an understandable question. There is certainly such a thing as sexual incompatibility, and couples should not be encouraged to stay indefinitely in sexual situations that make them unhappy. But I also think "sexual compatibility" gets used as an explanation far too quickly, particularly when what we're actually dealing with is a difference in desire, a lack of communication, accumulated resentment, anxiety around sex, or simply two people who haven't figured out how to create a sex life that works for both of them.

Sometimes the problem isn't that you aren't sexually compatible. It's that you've never really had the opportunity to figure out what sexual compatibility would mean for the two of you.

What does sexual compatibility actually mean?

When people talk about being sexually compatible, they often mean something much narrower than I think they realize. They might be thinking about whether they have similar sex drives, whether they are attracted to one another, or whether they like the same things in bed.

Those things matter, but sexual compatibility is much bigger than having matching libidos or a shared list of favorite activities.

You can have very different levels of sexual desire and still have a satisfying sex life. You can have similar libidos and still feel deeply disconnected during sex. You can have wildly different fantasies and be wonderfully compatible because you are both curious, flexible, and respectful of each other's boundaries. And you can have relatively conventional and compatible sexual interests but struggle enormously because one person feels pressured and the other feels chronically rejected.

I tend to think of sexual compatibility less as "Do we want exactly the same things?" and more as "Can we create a sexual relationship that works for both of us?"

That requires a surprising amount of self-awareness.

It means knowing what you actually want, being able to tolerate your partner wanting something different, communicating honestly about desire and boundaries, and being willing to negotiate without turning every difference into evidence that something is wrong with the relationship.

The desire discrepancy problem

One of the most common issues I see in couples therapy is a difference in sexual desire.

One person wants sex frequently, while the other rarely thinks about it. One person experiences sex as an important way of feeling connected, while the other experiences it as something that requires a lot of energy and doesn't naturally occur to them.

This is sometimes described as a mismatched libido or desire discrepancy, and it can become incredibly painful for both people.

The higher-desire partner may feel rejected, unattractive, lonely, or even resentful. They may begin wondering whether their partner is still attracted to them. The lower-desire partner may feel equally misunderstood, pressured, or defective. They may be having sex they don't really want because they are afraid of disappointing their partner, which can create even more resentment and make desire even harder to access.

Now you have a feedback loop: one person wants more sex and feels rejected, so they pursue more strongly; the other person feels more pressure and withdraws (or gives in and has bad or boring sex); the withdrawal creates more anxiety for the first person, who pushes harder; and eventually neither person feels particularly good about sex.

At that point, it can be very tempting to conclude that you're simply incompatible.

Sometimes you are.

But sometimes you've accidentally created a system in which pressure has become part of the sexual relationship, and pressure is not particularly good at creating desire.

What if I want sex, but not the sex we're having?

There is another version of this problem that can be even more confusing.

You might technically want sex. You might even masturbate regularly or have a rich fantasy life. You might be attracted to your partner and love them very much. But when your partner initiates sex, something in you seems to shut down.

This can be incredibly confusing, especially if you find yourself thinking, Why do I want sex when I'm alone, but not when we're together?

There are many possible explanations, and none of them automatically mean that you aren't attracted to your partner.

Sometimes sex has become associated with pressure, obligation, or an expectation that you will perform in a particular way. Sometimes you have become so focused on your partner's pleasure that you have lost touch with your own. Sometimes there are unresolved relationship issues that make it difficult to feel open and playful together. Sometimes you simply haven't learned much about what actually turns you on.

This is particularly common for people who have spent years being "good" at sex rather than curious about their own sexuality.

If you've learned that being a good partner means being accommodating, responsive, attractive, enthusiastic, and sexually available, it can take some real work to figure out what happens when you stop performing and start paying attention to yourself.

That doesn't mean becoming selfish. It means becoming present enough to participate in your own sex life.

Sexual compatibility doesn't require identical desires

I think this is one of the most important things for couples to understand.

You do not need to want the same things in order to have a good sex life.

In fact, I'm not sure I've ever met a couple who wanted everything exactly the same way.

One person might be more adventurous. One might have a higher sex drive. One might enjoy certain kinds of touch that the other person doesn't particularly care about. One person might be interested in kink, while the other isn't. One might fantasize about non-monogamy while the other feels perfectly happy being monogamous.

The question is what happens when those differences appear.

Can you talk about them without turning them into accusations?

Can you hear "I don't want that" without experiencing it as "I don't want you"?

Can you say "I would really like this" without making your partner responsible for making it happen?

Can you tolerate the possibility that your partner's sexuality belongs to them, just as yours belongs to you?

These are much more useful questions than trying to determine whether you have a sufficiently high "compatibility score."

And what about opening the relationship?

This comes up surprisingly often when couples are trying to solve a sexual compatibility problem.

Sometimes one partner wants more sex, more variety, or different sexual experiences and suggests opening the relationship as a possible solution. Sometimes one person has always been curious about non-monogamy and sees this as an opportunity to explore something they've wanted for years.

There is nothing inherently wrong with either of those desires.

But opening a relationship does not magically resolve sexual incompatibility. In fact, if you're already struggling with rejection, resentment, insecurity, communication, or pressure, adding other people to the system can make those dynamics considerably more complicated.

On the other hand, some couples discover that their sexual differences are not actually a problem once they stop assuming that one person has to meet every sexual need the other person has. Ethical non-monogamy, an open relationship, or polyamory can be a genuinely meaningful relationship structure for some people.

The important question isn't whether non-monogamy is "good" or "bad." It's whether it is something both people genuinely want and can participate in freely.

If one person is saying, "I don't want an open relationship, but I'm afraid you'll leave me if I don't agree," that's a very different starting point from two people saying, "We've been curious about whether a different relationship structure might fit us better."

This is one reason I think couples need to get underneath the proposed solution and understand the actual problem first.

You may be trying to solve a sexual problem that isn't actually about sex

This is where couples therapy can be particularly useful.

A couple may come in saying, "We need to work on our sex life," and after a few conversations it becomes clear that sex is simply where the rest of the relationship is becoming visible.

Maybe one person feels chronically unappreciated. Maybe the other feels like nothing they do is ever enough. Maybe there has been a long-standing imbalance around household labor. Maybe one partner has become the pursuer and the other has become the person who retreats. Maybe they haven't felt emotionally close in years and are hoping that fixing sex will somehow bring the relationship back to life.

None of this means the sexual problem isn't real.

It means we need to be curious about what else is happening around it.

I've had couples tell me they need "better communication," when what they really need is to stop building legal cases against each other and become more willing to understand their own contribution to the pattern. I've had people tell me they have a libido problem when what they really have is an enormous amount of anxiety. I've had people tell me they aren't attracted to their partner anymore when what they actually seem to be experiencing is years of resentment and disconnection.

This is why I don't like treating sexual compatibility as a simple yes-or-no question.

People are complicated. Relationships are complicated. Sex is perhaps the place where all of that complexity becomes most obvious.

Sexual compatibility is about finding the overlap

One of the most useful things you can do when you're trying to understand your sexual compatibility is to get much more specific about what you each actually want. This sounds obvious, but many couples have surprisingly little practice talking about sex in a way that goes beyond "How often should we be having it?" or "Are you happy with our sex life?" Those are important questions, but they don't necessarily tell you very much about what either person is actually hoping for.

What would you like more of? What do you miss? What are you curious about? What helps you feel connected? What makes sex feel playful or exciting to you? What tends to shut you down? What kinds of affection feel good even when you don't want sex? What would you try if you knew your partner wouldn't judge you or immediately expect you to do it?

You might discover that you have more overlap than you thought. Maybe you don't have the same fantasy, but you both want more novelty. Maybe one person wants more frequent sex while the other wants sex that feels less predictable and more connected. Maybe one of you is interested in exploring something that the other person doesn't want, but there are other things that you are both genuinely curious about. Sexual compatibility isn't necessarily about finding the exact same list of things; sometimes it's about getting specific enough to discover the places where your desires actually meet.

This is also where having a therapist can be incredibly helpful, particularly if talking about sex does not come naturally to you. A lot of people can have sex for years without ever learning how to talk openly about what they want, what they don't want, or what they're afraid their partner might think if they said it out loud. You may know exactly what you want in your head and still find yourself completely unable to get the words out when you're sitting across from the person you love.

That doesn't mean you're bad at communication. Sex is simply a vulnerable subject, and most of us receive very little training in how to talk about it. If you grew up learning that "good" people don't talk about sex, or that your partner's pleasure is more important than your own, or that asking for something makes you demanding or selfish, it makes sense that these conversations might feel awkward, embarrassing, or even frightening.

A therapist can slow the conversation down enough that neither person has to immediately defend themselves or provide an answer. I can help you put words to things that feel vague, notice when you're getting pulled into old patterns, and make sure that both people actually have room to speak. Sometimes the most useful thing I can do is simply ask the question that neither person has thought to ask yet.

The goal isn't to convince either of you to want something you don't want. It's to make the invisible parts of your sexuality visible enough that you can actually work with them. Once you both know what you're working with, you have a much better chance of finding the overlap, negotiating the differences, and creating a sex life that feels like something you are both participating in rather than something one person is providing for the other.

When should we get help with sexual compatibility?

If you've been having the same conversation about sex for months or years without getting anywhere, if one of you feels consistently rejected or pressured, or if you are avoiding talking about sex because you already know how the conversation will go, it may be time to get some support.

Sex therapy and couples therapy can provide a place to slow the whole system down and talk about the things that are often nearly impossible to discuss when you're already hurt or defensive.

And if your relationship is queer, kinky, open, polyamorous, or otherwise outside conventional relationship structures, it can be especially important to work with someone who understands that your relationship does not need to be measured against a monogamous template to be healthy.

You don't need someone to tell you whether you're doing relationships "right." You need someone who can help you figure out what actually works for the two of you.

That's a much more interesting question.

Frequently Asked Questions

How do I know if my partner and I are sexually incompatible?

Sexual incompatibility can involve significant differences in desire, sexual interests, boundaries, or the kind of relationship each person wants. But differences don't automatically mean a relationship is sexually incompatible. Couples therapy can help you distinguish between a difference that can be negotiated and one that represents a fundamental mismatch.

Can couples with different sex drives have a healthy sex life?

Yes. A difference in libido is extremely common, and couples don't need identical levels of sexual desire to have a satisfying relationship. What matters is whether both partners can talk honestly about desire, boundaries, intimacy, and expectations without creating a cycle of pressure and rejection.

Does lack of sexual desire mean I'm not attracted to my partner?

Not necessarily. Low desire can be influenced by stress, anxiety, resentment, relationship dynamics, medication, hormonal changes, body image, sexual expectations, or feeling pressured during sex. It can also be related to attraction, but that is only one possibility.

Can couples therapy help with sexual problems?

Yes. Couples therapy can help partners understand recurring patterns around sex, communicate more effectively, address resentment and emotional disconnection, and create a more collaborative approach to intimacy. For some couples, individual therapy or sex therapy may also be useful.

Can an open relationship solve sexual incompatibility?

Sometimes an open relationship can give partners more freedom to explore different sexual needs, but opening a relationship is not a guaranteed solution to sexual problems. If the underlying relationship has significant resentment, insecurity, coercion, or communication difficulties, those issues generally need attention before adding other partners.

What if one partner wants monogamy and the other wants non-monogamy?

This is a significant relationship difference that deserves careful attention rather than a quick compromise. Neither person should feel pressured into a relationship structure they don't genuinely want. Couples counseling or non-monogamy-informed therapy can provide space to explore what each person wants, what is negotiable, and what isn't.

I Have Everything I Ever Wanted. Why Am I Still Unhappy?

A few years ago, I noticed I was seeing a pattern: a certain type of client story I was hearing over and over when people came in asking for help.

The people sitting across from me weren't failing. They weren't making disastrous decisions or repeatedly sabotaging themselves. In many ways, they were doing exceptionally well. They had careers they had worked hard to build, relationships they cared deeply about, homes they were proud of, and lives that looked, from the outside, like success stories.

Yet many of them arrived carrying the same quiet question: Why doesn't any of this feel the way I thought it would?

Sometimes that question was wrapped in anxiety. Sometimes it sounded like burnout, or perfectionism, or a vague sense of emptiness that was difficult to explain without feeling guilty. They often prefaced it by telling me how fortunate they were, almost apologizing for bringing it up. After all, plenty of people would love to have their problems.

And that was part of what kept them stuck. If your life looks good on paper, it can be surprisingly difficult to admit that you're unhappy. Gratitude and dissatisfaction are often treated as opposites, when in reality they can exist side by side. You can love your partner and wonder why you feel disconnected. You can appreciate your career and still dread Monday morning. You can recognize how much you've accomplished while quietly suspecting that you've been running toward someone else's definition of success.

That suspicion is usually what brings people into therapy.

When doing everything "right" becomes its own problem

Many of the people I work with have spent most of their lives being rewarded for making good decisions. They learned early that being responsible, capable, and productive opened doors. Those qualities helped them succeed in school, build careers, and earn the trust of the people around them. There is nothing inherently wrong with ambition, discipline, or hard work. In fact, they're often strengths that I genuinely admire in my clients.

The problem begins when those strengths become the only way you know how to relate to yourself.

I've met countless people who can organize a team, negotiate a contract, manage a household, raise children, and keep everyone else's life running smoothly. Then I ask a deceptively simple question: "What do you enjoy?"

The silence that follows can be surprisingly long.

Not because they don't have hobbies, but because they haven't asked themselves that question in years. They've become experts on what needs to get done and who needs them next. Their attention has been directed outward for so long that turning it inward feels unfamiliar.

This is one of the quieter costs of perfectionism. It doesn't always look like obsessively color-coding your planner or refusing to make mistakes. More often, it looks like becoming so practiced at meeting expectations that you lose track of which expectations were actually yours.

Success can distract us from asking better questions

One of the assumptions our culture quietly reinforces is that fulfillment is something you earn. Work hard enough, make good choices, delay gratification, and eventually you'll arrive at a life that feels deeply satisfying.

Sometimes that happens.

Sometimes it doesn't.

I've worked with physicians who fantasized about leaving medicine to become artists. Attorneys who hadn't taken an uninterrupted vacation in years because they no longer knew what they would do with themselves. People who had spent decades climbing a ladder without ever asking whether it was leaning against the wall they wanted to scale.

Those examples aren't meant to encourage anyone to quit their job. They're meant to illustrate something more subtle. Achievement is remarkably good at answering practical questions, but it isn't very good at answering existential ones.

It can tell you whether you've been promoted.

It cannot tell you whether you're alive inside your own life.

Many people don't realize those are different questions until they've accomplished nearly everything they once believed they wanted, and still feel like something is missing.

This often shows up first in our relationships

One of the reasons I love working with relationships is that they expose the places where our carefully constructed identities stop working.

You may be able to manage your career through competence alone. Your relationship usually asks something different of you. It asks you to be vulnerable, to tolerate uncertainty, to admit when you're hurt, and to allow another person to know parts of you that don't fit neatly into the image you've worked so hard to maintain.

For people who have built their lives around being capable, this can feel surprisingly threatening. Or even simply unimaginable. Sometimes it creates a vague resentment of our partner: for not figuring out how to give us something we can’t even name or ask for (and which we might do before they could get to it anyway, instead of letting ourselves receive).

It's also why I often see perfectionism spill into intimacy.

Someone tells me they can't relax during sex because they're thinking about everything else they need to do before tomorrow. Another person realizes that they've spent years trying to be a "good partner" without ever considering what kind of lover they actually want to be. Others discover that their fantasies, curiosities, or questions about sexuality have been quietly waiting in the background while career goals, mortgages, and family obligations took center stage. The project of sexuality never becomes a priority, and we don’t realize we’re actually avoiding it because it is too scary to confront something unknown.

This isn't limited to one type of relationship. I see it in monogamous couples, people exploring ethical non-monogamy, queer clients, clients who are gender conforming and non-conforming, and individuals who simply want to feel more connected to themselves. The details change, but the pattern is familiar. When life becomes organized around productivity and performance, pleasure is often the first thing to disappear.

The goal isn't to become less ambitious

People sometimes worry that if they loosen their grip on perfectionism, they'll lose their edge. They imagine therapy will teach them to stop caring about success or lower their standards.

That has not been my experience.

If anything, the people I work with often become more effective after they stop confusing anxiety with motivation.

There is an enormous difference between working hard because something matters deeply to you and working hard because you're afraid of what it means if you don't.

From the outside, those lives can look identical.

From the inside, they feel completely different.

One is driven by fear. The other is driven by choice.

Therapy isn't about convincing you to abandon your goals. It's about becoming curious about who chose those goals in the first place. Some of them will still fit. Others won't. The work is learning to tell the difference.

You may not need a different life. You may need a different relationship with your shoulds.

One of my favorite moments in therapy happens when someone catches themselves saying, "I should..."

"I should be happier."

"I should want this."

"I should be grateful."

"I should be able to handle it."

Those sentences seem harmless until you start asking, “who says?” They reveal that much of your inner life has become organized around obligation rather than curiosity.

Curiosity asks different questions.

What actually matters to me?

What kind of relationships feel nourishing?

What would my life look like if I stopped trying to earn permission to enjoy it?

What do I want my sexuality, my work, and my closest relationships to feel like, rather than simply look like?

Those questions rarely produce immediate answers, and that's okay. One of the most meaningful shifts I see in therapy is when people stop demanding certainty from themselves and begin trusting that clarity can emerge through attention rather than force.

Ironically, slowing down often accomplishes what years of striving could not.

When therapy can help

If you've built a life that looks successful but still find yourself feeling anxious, disconnected, or oddly unsatisfied, it doesn't necessarily mean you've made the wrong choices. It may simply mean that you've become so skilled at pursuing external goals that you've lost touch with the internal experiences that make those goals meaningful.

Therapy for perfectionism isn't about becoming less productive or less ambitious. It's about understanding the relationship you've developed with achievement, success, and your own worth. That conversation often extends into your closest relationships, your sexuality, and the ways you've learned to organize your life around what you think you should want instead of what genuinely resonates with you.

Whether you're navigating burnout, questioning your career, trying to reconnect with your partner, exploring ethical non-monogamy, or simply wondering why happiness continues to feel just out of reach despite all your efforts and everything you've accomplished, therapy offers a place to slow down enough to ask different questions.

In my experience, those questions are usually far more interesting—and far more transformative—than the answers we thought we were looking for. One caveat: sometimes high achieving folks come to therapy and try to easily “win” in therapy too. While some of my most “successful” therapy clients have this drive for excellence, they often experienced early therapy as frustratingly slow. This armor took years, even decades, to build, and so you should expect it to take some time to deconstruct. However, because you are so smart, dedicated, and hard working, although it feels slow at first, when the wins start building up, it happens FAST and can be incredibly rewarding at the end to look back and say “wow, I have really come so far!” (and maybe it looks nothing like I thought it would!)

If you are interested in working with me and want to see if we are a fit, click here to schedule a free, 15 minute consultation!

Frequently Asked Questions

Can therapy help with perfectionism?

Yes. Therapy can help you recognize the patterns that keep perfectionism alive, understand how they developed, and build a different relationship with achievement, anxiety, and self-worth. The goal isn't to stop caring about excellence—it's to stop relying on achievement as proof that you're enough, or a goal in itself.

Why do successful people still feel unhappy?

Success solves many practical problems, but it doesn't automatically create meaning, connection, or joy. Many high achievers discover they've spent years pursuing external goals without giving the same attention to their relationships, sexuality, values, or emotional lives.

Can perfectionism affect relationships?

Absolutely. Perfectionism often makes it difficult to slow down, tolerate uncertainty, or communicate vulnerably. It can contribute to overthinking, conflict, emotional distance, and difficulties with intimacy or sexual desire.

Is burnout the same as perfectionism?

Not necessarily, but they often reinforce one another. Many people experience burnout after years of pushing themselves to meet unrealistic expectations, ignoring their own needs, or believing rest has to be earned.

Should We Open Our Relationship? Maybe You're Asking the Wrong Question.

One of the most common conversations I have with couples starts with a surprisingly simple question:

"We're thinking about opening our relationship. What do you think?"

Sometimes one partner is excited and has been reading books, listening to podcasts, and imagining what their future could look like. Sometimes the other partner is sitting in front of me looking like they would rather be literally anywhere else. Sometimes both people are genuinely curious, and sometimes one of them has agreed to have the conversation because they are terrified that saying "no" means losing the relationship.

If you've found yourself asking whether you should open your relationship, I want to start by saying something that might feel relieving (or terrifying, depending on your disposition): there isn't a right answer. There isn't a relationship referee somewhere deciding whether monogamy, polyamory, swinging, or another form of ethical non-monogamy is the healthiest choice. Every relationship structure comes with opportunities, challenges, sacrifices, and rewards. My job as a non-monogamy coach and therapist isn't to convince you that one is better than another (and I honestly don’t think that way!). My job is to help you make a decision that feels like it belongs to you, rather than one driven by fear, pressure, or the hope that changing the structure of your relationship will solve a problem that actually lives somewhere else.

That distinction matters because people often come looking for an answer about non-monogamy when what they're really struggling with is something much deeper.

Sometimes it's a conversation about desire or identity. Sometimes it's about loneliness inside a relationship that otherwise looks "good." Sometimes it's about wanting more novelty, more adventure, or more freedom than your current relationship seems to allow.

And sometimes, if we're being honest, it's about hoping that changing the rules will be easier than having a painful conversation about what has been missing between the two of you for years.

None of those motivations are wrong. In fact, they're incredibly human. But they lead to very different paths, which is why I think the question "Should we open our relationship?" can accidentally send couples looking for answers before they've really understood the problem they're trying to solve.

The relationship structure usually isn't the first problem.

One of the biggest misconceptions about my work is that because I specialize in non-monogamy coaching, I'm enthusiastic about every couple opening their relationship.

I'm not.

I'm also not secretly hoping everyone decides to stay monogamous.

I have seen deeply connected monogamous couples. I've seen deeply connected polyamorous relationships. I've seen open relationships that are joyful, thoughtful, and secure, and I've seen monogamous marriages that are painfully lonely. I've also seen the reverse.

After years of doing this work, I have become much less interested in what relationship structure people choose and much more interested in how they make that decision together.

For example, if a couple has difficulty talking about disappointment without blaming each other, that pattern will almost certainly follow them into an open relationship. If one partner tends to ignore their own needs until resentment builds, opening the relationship won't magically teach them how to advocate for themselves. If sex has become full of pressure, avoidance, or obligation, dating other people may create new experiences, but it won't necessarily resolve the dynamics that made sex feel difficult in the first place.

That's why I often tell couples that relationship structures don't eliminate problems—they illuminate them.

Sometimes that's exactly what people need. Sometimes it's overwhelming. Either way, it's worth knowing before you make a major decision.

Before you decide whether to open your relationship, spend some time with these questions.

I don't mean answer them over dinner in fifteen minutes. I mean really sit with them, individually and together.

• What are we hoping will be different if we open our relationship? Try to be as specific as possible. Are you hoping for more excitement? More sexual fulfillment? More autonomy? A stronger sense of identity? Understanding the hope underneath the idea is often more useful than debating the idea itself.

• If opening our relationship weren't an option, what conversation would we need to have instead? This is one of my favorite questions because it gently exposes the conversations people have been avoiding. Sometimes the answer is about sex. Sometimes it's grief. Sometimes it's acknowledging that one partner has felt lonely for years.

• Can each of us honestly say no? Healthy exploration requires genuine consent, not reluctant compliance. If either of you feels that saying "no" would automatically end the relationship, it's probably worth slowing down before making a decision. Even if you decide to try it anyway, uncovering this power dynamic is really important in order to be able to acknowledge what is needed to bring enough safety to the experience.

• How do we each handle uncertainty? Many people imagine that once they choose a relationship structure, they'll finally feel certain. In reality, every relationship asks us to tolerate uncertainty. Ethical non-monogamy doesn't remove that challenge; in many ways, it asks even more of it.

These questions aren't designed to point you toward monogamy or non-monogamy. They're designed to help you become more differentiated—to notice your own thoughts, values, fears, and desires without immediately reacting to them. Ironically, slowing down like this often leads to much clearer decisions than trying to solve the problem as quickly as possible.

One of the greatest gifts of this conversation has nothing to do with non-monogamy.

Whether a couple ultimately decides to remain monogamous, open their relationship, or realizes they want entirely different things, I almost always hope they leave the process with something more valuable than an answer.

I hope they understand themselves better.

I hope they become more capable of talking about uncomfortable topics without immediately defending themselves or blaming each other.

I hope they learn to notice when they're acting from fear instead of curiosity, or from obligation instead of genuine desire.

Those are skills that improve every relationship you'll ever have, regardless of its structure.

In many ways, I think that's the real work. Ethical non-monogamy isn't a destination. Neither is monogamy. They're both relationship structures that ask us to know ourselves, communicate honestly, tolerate uncertainty, and continue growing over time. The people who tend to thrive aren't necessarily the ones who picked the "right" relationship model. They're the ones who developed the emotional skills to navigate whichever model they chose.

When it makes sense to get support

If you've been having the same conversation over and over again, or if discussions about opening your relationship quickly become polarized, this is often a good time to bring someone else into the process. Working with a non-monogamy coach, an open relationship therapist, or a professional who understands ethical non-monogamy can help you slow the conversation down enough to understand what each of you is actually trying to say beneath the fear, excitement, or conflict.

You don't need to have already decided what you want. In fact, uncertainty is often the best place to begin. The goal isn't for someone else to tell you whether to open your relationship. It's to become clear enough that, whatever decision you make, it feels thoughtful, collaborative, and aligned with the life the two of you actually want to create together.

If you are interested in finding out if working with me could be helpful, click here to schedule a free, 15 minute consultation so you can ask all your questions!

Why Do Couples Keep Having the Same Fight?

How it Starts:

You've had this conversation before.

Maybe dozens of times.

One of you says, "You never help around the house."

The other says, "Nothing I do is ever enough.”

Or maybe it's about sex.

Money.

The kids.

Your in-laws.

Jealousy.

Time together.

Opening the relationship.

Closing the relationship.

Whose turn it is to make dinner.

Every time, you swear this is going to be the conversation that finally solves it.

And yet, a week later, you're right back where you started.

If you're wondering, "Why do we keep having the same fight?" the answer probably isn't because you're bad at communicating. More often, it's because you're trying to solve the wrong problem.

Have you ever heard that when you pick your partner, you pick your problem? It is widely known for couples therapists that couples’ problems will persist—the problems themselves will usually stay the same, you just need to work on how to talk about them without ruining the relationship.

Underneath these surface level problems, are questions that sound more like:

• Am I important to you?

• Can I count on you?

• Do you see how hard I'm trying?

• Will you choose me?

• Am I allowed to have needs?

• Do you actually understand me?

• Are we still on the same team?

Those are much more difficult conversations to have. So instead, we argue about whose turn it was to empty the dishwasher. The good news is that sometimes, if we can let our guard down, and really let each other in, that vulnerability is really what opens the other person up, too. Focusing on what’s below the surface helps us to see the patterns that we’re getting trapped in, and open up some space for something new to happen.

Getting Ensnared in Trying to “Win” an Argument

When we're hurt, our brain naturally starts building a case. We gather evidence. We remember (and remind our partner of) every similar thing that's ever happened. We prepare closing arguments worthy of a courtroom drama (and let me tell you, I’ve heard some good cases that I truly admire!).

We feel like if we can just explain ourselves well enough, maybe our partner will finally understand!

Unfortunately, that's usually the moment your partner starts building their case.

Now both of you are trying to prove you're right.

Almost nobody is trying to understand what the conflict is trying to tell you.

If I had a dollar (adjusted for inflation) for every time a couple came into therapy telling me they needed to work on "communication," I'd be a very rich lady. Sometimes couples even tell me, "We communicate really well!" Usually, what they mean is, "We communicate a lot." Those are not the same thing.

The solution is rarely more communication. In fact, many couples are already talking themselves in circles. The solution is better communication—and better communication requires something much harder than just talking. It requires slowing down long enough to develop self-awareness, take ownership of your own part in the pattern, and become genuinely curious about your partner's experience. Both people have to be willing to do that.

The Pattern Is Usually More Important Than the Topic

One of the first things I listen for in couples therapy isn't what you're arguing about.

It's how you argue.

Does one person pursue while the other shuts down?

Does one person criticize while the other becomes defensive?

Does one person anxiously try to fix everything while the other feels overwhelmed?

Do you both become experts on proving your own perspective?

These patterns often repeat whether the topic is sex, parenting, finances, chores, or non-monogamy.

Change the topic, and the dance stays the same. Couples are often surprised to discover that once they change the dance, the original problem starts feeling much smaller—or becomes surprisingly easy to solve.

The Real Goal Isn't to Agree

One of the biggest misconceptions about healthy relationships is that successful couples don't disagree.

Not true.

Healthy couples disagree all the time.

The difference is that they know how to stay connected while they disagree. Or to agree to disagree and then really let it go.

In my work with couples—including monogamous couples, queer couples, and people practicing ethical non-monogamy—I rarely see lasting change happen because someone finally "won" the argument.

Change happens when both people begin feeling understood.

That doesn't mean agreement.

It means each person feels like the other genuinely gets where they're coming from.

That creates enough safety to start solving problems together instead of solving each other.

Stop Asking, "Who's Right?"

Instead, try asking:

• What are we protecting?

• What feels threatened right now?

• What need isn't getting expressed?

• What emotion keeps showing up underneath this argument?

• What happens right before we get stuck?

These questions slow the conversation down.

They move you away from blame and toward curiosity.

And curiosity is almost always more productive than certainty.

You Can Love Someone and Still Get Stuck

One of the hardest things for couples to accept is that repeating the same fight doesn't necessarily mean you're incompatible.

It often means your nervous systems have learned a familiar pattern.

When we feel criticized, abandoned, rejected, misunderstood, or overwhelmed, we tend to reach for protective strategies.

We defend.

We withdraw.

We explain.

We criticize.

We people-please.

We shut down.

None of these reactions make you a bad partner. They're human attempts to protect ourselves when we feel hurt, scared, or disconnected. The challenge is that the very strategies that help us survive conflict often make us feel even farther apart. That's why these patterns can be so difficult to change on your own. Part of a healthy relationship is becoming willing to confront your own blind spots while also accepting that the person you love is beautifully imperfect, too.

Couples Therapy Isn't About Picking Sides

One of the things clients tell me they appreciate most is that they don't feel like I'm deciding who the "good" partner is. This might sound quite disappointing to you, and I can hold space for that (lol). I am not going to sit back and ignore an obvious abuse of power or a harmful dynamic in a couple, but in general, I want to help both of you to find what you need to learn from this conflict you’ve found yourselves in.

One of the biggest shifts I help couples make is moving away from trying to change each other and toward understanding what each person actually has control over. That doesn't mean letting your partner off the hook—it means recognizing that lasting change almost always starts with taking ownership of your own side of the dance. My job is to interrupt the blame game long enough for both of you to become curious again about what could be possible!

You Don't Need Better Arguments. You Need Better Questions.

If you and your partner keep having the same fight, resist the urge to become a better lawyer.

Become a better observer.

Notice the moments when the conversation turns from connection into competition.

Notice what each of you is trying to protect.

Notice the assumptions you make about each other's intentions.

Most importantly, notice when you're no longer solving a problem together and have started trying to solve your partner.

The strongest relationships aren't built by couples who never argue.

They're built by couples who learn how to recognize their patterns, understand what those patterns are protecting, and find their way back onto the same team.

That's the work of therapy. Not deciding who's right—but helping you understand each other well enough that the same fight no longer needs to happen. And that when it does, you know what to do with it, together.

If this sounds like you, or you think you and your partner could use come help untangling these recurrent arguments, click here to set up a free consultation to see if I would be a good fit for therapy for you!

How To Stop Overthinking Your Relationship

Is being in a relationship supposed to be this hard?

You replay conversations in your head. You analyze text messages. You wonder whether you should bring something up, let it go, set a boundary, leave, stay, ask for reassurance, stop needing reassurance, read another book, listen to another podcast, talk to another friend. Your brain is working overtime trying to solve the problem, and yet somehow, you feel farther away from clarity than ever.

If this sounds familiar, you are not alone. Many of the people I work with are incredibly thoughtful, intelligent people. They are used to solving problems. At work, this is often a superpower. In relationships, it can become a trap.

The problem isn't that you're thinking too much. The problem is that you're trying to think your way out of uncertainty.

The Hidden Promise Of Overthinking

Most overthinking starts with a good intention.

We think:

"If I just think this through, I'll finally know what to do" (and that will be that!)

If we can figure out exactly why our partner said that thing, exactly what their behavior means, exactly whether this relationship is right, exactly what the future holds, then maybe we can finally relax.

But relationships don't work that way. No amount of thinking can give you certainty about another human being. At some point, overthinking stops being a search for answers and becomes an attempt to avoid anxiety. The thinking itself starts to feel productive, even when it isn't actually moving you forward. Actually feeling the anxiety of uncertainty, the pain of the slight, or the tension of letting a miscommunication dissipate becomes intolerable, when maybe that’s what you should be doing.

Observation Is Different Than Analysis

One of the most important skills I teach clients is the difference between observing and analyzing.

Analyzing sounds like:

• What does this mean?

• Why did they do that?

• What should I do next?

• Is this a red flag?

• Am I being unreasonable?

• What if this means the relationship is doomed?

Observing sounds like:

• When they said that, I felt hurt.

• I notice I've been anxious all week.

• I notice I'm hoping they'll change.

• I notice I keep bringing up the same complaint.

• I notice I feel more like their parent than their partner.

• I see that even though I asked them to do “x”, they did “y”

Observation gives you information. Analysis often gives you more anxiety. The goal isn't to stop thinking altogether. The goal is to gather information before deciding what it means. And to recognize when you are trying to analyze your way out of uncertainty, rather than facing the fact that something right now is unknowable.

Stop Fixing And Start Watching

One of the hardest truths about relationships is that people reveal themselves over time.

When we're anxious, we often rush this process. We explain away behavior, we make excuses, we confront too quickly, we try to teach, we try to fix.

We try to get clarity before clarity is actually available.

Sometimes the most powerful thing you can do is slow down and observe. What happens if you stop trying to manage the situation for a moment? What happens if you simply watch?

Not forever. Not passively. Just long enough to see what is actually happening.

People tend to show you who they are when you stop trying to influence the outcome. This is, perhaps, what you are afraid to allow to happen, even if you can’t admit that to yourself! Speaking from experience, here. But it is the only way to get closer to a real knowing of what to do.

Differentiation: Letting Other People Be Themselves

A lot of relationship anxiety comes from believing that your wellbeing depends on what your partner does next.

If they change, you'll be okay.

If they reassure you, you'll be okay.

If they communicate better, you'll be okay.

If they finally understand your point of view, you'll be okay.

Differentiation is the practice of staying connected to yourself while allowing someone else to be who they are.

It means recognizing that your partner's feelings are theirs.

Your feelings are yours.

Their choices are theirs.

Your choices are yours.

This doesn't mean becoming cold or detached. It means learning that you don't have to control someone else's behavior in order to be okay.

This is often where overthinking starts to loosen its grip. It is also way easier said than done. There are so many mental gymnastics to unpack in order to see this clearly.

Are You Gathering Information Or Trying To Force An Outcome?

The next time you find yourself spiraling about your relationship, ask yourself:

"Am I gathering information, or am I trying to force certainty?"

This might be harder to figure out than it sounds. Really try to slow yourself down. Breathe. Journal. Ask a friend “do I sound anxious?”

Relationships require action sometimes. Difficult conversations matter. Boundaries matter. Decisions matter. But those actions become much more effective when they're grounded in reality rather than panic.

You Don't Need More Thinking. You Need More Trust.

Not necessarily trust in your partner. Some of what is making you anxious is perhaps that you do not trust something in the relationship, and that is ok and normal in many situations. Indeed it can be an opportunity to build trust or to grow.

Perhaps what you really need to build first, however, is trust in yourself:

Trust that you can tolerate uncertainty.

Trust that you can observe what is happening without immediately reacting to it.

Trust that if a problem exists, you will be able to address it (when the time is right, which is perhaps not yet).

Trust that you don't need to solve your entire relationship today.

The people I see make the biggest changes are not the ones who become better analyzers. They are the ones who become better observers. They learn to slow down, pay attention, and trust themselves enough to respond to reality instead of reacting to fear. And from that place, clarity tends to arrive on its own.

If this resonates, but you are mired in the process of discerning anxiety from grounded thinking and problem solving—I would be happy to help you work through this! You can click here to schedule a free, 15 minute consultation call with me!

Am I Polyamorous, Or Just Unhappy In My Relationship?

The Question Nobody Wants To Ask

There are so many ways you can come to this moment, where you start to question everything. Perhaps you've met someone and felt something wake up inside you. The conversations flow effortlessly. You feel more alive, more curious, more like yourself. Suddenly you're questioning everything. 

Or perhaps you’ve always felt like monogamy didn’t make sense, but never really gave it too much thought until you read a book, New York Times article, or Instagram post. 

Or perhaps your relationship is actually pretty good, which makes the whole thing even more confusing.

Either way, you might be wondering if this is real, “Am I actually polyamorous?” or should you just be ending the monogamous relationship you’re in and moving on. 

This can be terrifying, because the implications of actually thinking of answers to this question can be so far reaching in your life. 

Why This Question Is So Hard To Answer

When we're unhappy, everything gets blurry.

You may be questioning:

• your relationship

• your sexuality

• your life choices

• your identity

All at the same time! This is extremely disorienting and confusing, your brain jumping from one topic to the next–if you could only fix this thing, everything would fall into place! But it really can just lead you down endless rabbit holes, where you can never feel like you’ve landed on what to do next. This is what’s so confusing about the unknown, the liminal space you are in. You are in the middle of what came before (I am in a relationship I love) and what comes next (????)

What Polyamory Is NOT

Polyamory is not:

• never feeling jealous

• cheating

• wanting lots of sex

• having a crush

• being bored

• avoiding commitment

• wanting an escape hatch

Signs You Might Be Unhappy In Your Relationship

Examples:

• chronic resentment

• unresolved conflict

• emotional disconnection

• feeling unseen

• loss of trust

• inability to be yourself

None of these automatically mean you're monogamous. But they deserve attention before making major relationship decisions. If you decide to pursue non-monogamy, these issues don't magically disappear. In fact, non-monogamy often shines a brighter spotlight on existing relationship problems. Additionally, working through some of these issues is a great way to answer the question for yourself of whether you are unhappy in your current relationship and whether your relationship can be fixed. If you’ve ever wondered “how do I know if this relationship is over?” start trying in earnest to work on your issues. How your partner responds—and how you feel in the process—can be incredibly informative.

Signs Non-Monogamy May Be What You Really Want

• curiosity that has persisted for years

• desire for autonomy, not just novelty

• interest in multiple relationships even during good periods

• values alignment with non-monogamy

• attraction to the philosophy, not just a person

• willingness to self-reflect, do hard relational work, and handle big emotions

The Trap: Looking For The Relationship Structure That Will Save You

People often ask:

"Would I be happier if I were poly?"

But the deeper question is:

"What am I hoping polyamory will solve?"

This isn't a trick question. Sometimes the answer really is "quite a lot." But it's worth slowing down long enough to understand what you're asking a relationship structure to do for you. Think for yourself if there are also some other things missing like skills, willingness, and time to prioritize these things that might be getting in your way whether you are polyamorous or monogamous. 

Check yourself to see if any of the following resonate as answers to that question: 

• loneliness

• boredom

• lack of intimacy

• fear of commitment

• fear of missing out

• sexual dissatisfaction

Some of those are solved by non-monogamy. Many are not.

Questions To Ask Yourself

• If my current relationship improved dramatically, would I still be interested in polyamory?

• What specifically appeals to me about non-monogamy?

• Am I moving toward something or away from something?

• Am I seeking more freedom and connection, or am I mostly seeking relief from pain?

• What am I hoping will change?

You Don't Have To Know Yet

You don't need to declare yourself polyamorous today.

You don't need to promise lifelong monogamy today.

Curiosity is allowed.

Exploration is allowed.

Not knowing is allowed.

Whether you're questioning monogamy, exploring polyamory, or trying to understand why your relationship no longer feels right, it can be incredibly helpful to have a space dedicated to sorting through these questions. The answer is rarely as simple as "you're polyamorous" or "you're unhappy." More often, it's a nuanced exploration of your values, desires, fears, and relationship patterns. You don't have to figure that out alone.

If you'd like support exploring these questions, I'd love to help. Click here to schedule a free 15-minute consultation call and see if we're a good fit.

Why Don't I Enjoy Sex?

Is something wrong with me?

On the outside, everything might look perfect. You’ve got it all together in terms of work, raising the kids, keeping up the social calendar, managing the house, and your relationship with your partner is good, or even great! You might feel like you used to like sex, but you don’t know what happened over the years. Or maybe it was always fine or ok, but never something you REALLY wanted if left to your own devices. Maybe your own devices are the only entities you want to have sex with—when your partner is involved, it’s too easy to just make it all about them, and you have no idea what you want anymore. You might find yourself wondering why you feel so disconnected during sex—thinking about work, the laundry, the kids, or tomorrow's to-do list. Sex feels like another task to complete, and it’s hard to imagine how something that feels like a chore could ever become playful or exciting. But...you WANT to want sex. You miss the idea of desire. You just can't seem to access it. Many people who struggle with low libido are actually experiencing pressure, stress, resentment, or disconnection—not a permanent lack of sexual desire.

Often, this is not about something broken or wrong with you, it’s about disconnection, pressure, or a mismatch. And it is possible to make a change. 

Why can’t I figure this out?

You may feel like you’ve tried everything! But you can’t get out of the feelings of avoidance and resentment, trying harder and harder to fix it by performing sex or just getting through it, reading every book and blog you can find. However, all of this has just led to more pressure on yourself and disconnection. When you try to talk to your partner about it, it might even feel like it makes it worse: You see their disappointment and that spirals you into more dutiful sex. The more pressure you feel (from your partner or yourself), the more you will shut down, panic, and disconnect from your body. This is not about a lack of effort, intelligence, or motivation. There is simply too much pressure in the system, and we need to slow down and bring in some space. That’s the only way you’re going to find room for play and creativity!

The most common reasons people don’t enjoy sex :

Emotional / relational causes:

• Pressure to perform or “be in the mood”

• Feeling emotionally disconnected from partner

• Unspoken resentment in the relationship

• Lack of safety or ease in communication

• A relationship that lacks the skills for emotional intimacy

Nervous system causes:

• Stress, burnout, anxiety

• Feeling “on” all the time in life

• Difficulty dropping into the body

Identity / internal conflict causes:

• Not knowing what you actually like

• Sex shaped by obligation, not desire

• Confusion between “what I should like” vs what feels good

Cultural / gendered pressure:

• Especially for women: duty sex, expectation sex

• Learning sex as something done for others

The biggest misconception: “I should want sex naturally”

Desire is not natural, it is created, between a person and… another person or people? An image? A physical sensation?  Sometimes it is created so quickly you couldn’t even notice! This is what people mean when they talk about “spontaneous desire”. Desire isn't always spontaneous. Many people assume desire should appear out of nowhere—that you should simply feel turned on and want sex. But for many people, desire is something that develops in response to what's happening around them. Responsive desire is when you feel desire in response to something in your environment—something turns you on! Or as Esther Perell says “I turn myself on when…” You might learn you respond to visual cues, memories, touch, or honestly, just vibes. 

Lack of desire is also NOT necessarily a lack of attraction. What is most likely the culprit if you are not feeling desire is that there is too much pressure, rather than not enough attraction. Pressure (from life stressors, dutiful sex, or expectations about what sex should look like) is the biggest way to put your foot on the brake of desire. 

What is dutiful sex and how does it affect sexuality and relationships? 

Many of us are taught (from an insanely young age in fact) that sex is a duty to your partner. This narrative is everywhere once you start to look for it. If you’ve ever heard of “blue balls”, you can see where this pressure begins. Dutiful sex can be: 

• Having sex to keep peace

• Having sex to avoid conflict

• Having sex while disconnected or checked out

• Giving sex frequently while never or rarely expecting to have sexual pleasure or satisfaction yourself.

• Any time sex feels like you just want to “get it over with”.

This kind of sex can still feel rewarding in some ways, which is what makes it so sneaky. You can feel accomplished, like you checked something off your to-do list. You might feel connected to your partner, and happy that you are giving them pleasure. You may have totally eliminated the idea that you would ever have sexual pleasure, so you don’t feel like you’re missing that much anyway.

However, having duty sex too often, and without any expectation of reciprocity can have real, damaging effects on your sexuality and your relationship. 

• It can create further disconnection from your self, your body, and even your partner

• You teach your body that sex = pressure, not pleasure and giving/doing, not receiving/relaxing

• You may not notice it at first but you can create resentments and expectations that can be insidious and bleed into other areas of your life “I did all the cooking and cleaning today and NOW I have one more chore!” versus collaboration and empathy with your partner “we both had a hard day, how do we want to connect tonight? What kind of sex sounds good to each of us and what can we come up with together?”

• As you can imagine, this takes a toll on emotional intimacy, especially when these problems go unspoken. 

What actually helps? Spoiler alert: it’s not a new toy.

First and foremost, you have to accept that if you want to build a new relationship with sex, this is a whole ass project. There are no quick tips that will turn your sex life around in 30 days with little to no emotional investment. There is some of this that you can do on your own, but as you may have guessed, it is also going to involve potentially difficult conversations with and the participation of your partner.

• Slowing down and acknowledging what is causing the disconnections is the first step. 

  • This can be extremely uncomfortable for both you and your partner, so it is essential to spot and remove blame. Couples counseling may be necessary for this, because blame can be extremely hard to spot on your own!

  • Removing the pressure for orgasm and creating a genuine agreement that sex can stop at any point—without disappointment, guilt, or hurt feelings taking over the room—is essential.

• Through inquiry and connection, we build real emotional safety

• Exploring the narratives that lurk in the background that separated you from your own sexuality to connect with. These can start at a shockingly young age!

• After you’re feeling more relaxed, you can begin to explore what pleasure feels like and what your body responds to.

• Only then, can the REALY fun begin! 

When do I need to get a therapist or coach to help?

As you are beginning to see, the work of deconstructing anxiety and pressure during sex to make way for fun, desire, playfulness, and ease can be a bit daunting. Although this may seem like bad news, I am here to tell you that a life without challenge is extremely boring and has its own problems. While you may not be stoked for the process, the outcome can be transformational and you can end up a with a (sex) life you never dreamed was possible! 

If the themes in this article are resonating with you, it can be a good idea to get support whether through individual or relationship therapy. Especially if you are non-monogamous, or in the lifestyle, and feel like you are having lots of sex but everyone else seems to be having way more fun than you are,  it can be really helpful to have a guide who knows about your experiences and understands the scene. Not all sex therapy is specialized for non-monogamy, but there are many sex therapists who can be a good fit. 

The narratives that drive our sex lives start young and are really hard to catch, so having someone else spot when you are accidentally treating your sexuality in a toxic way can be essential to making the changes you need. It might surprise you how hard it is to actually talk about sex, even if you are having a lot of it or thinking about it a lot, so sometimes therapy or coaching can help with just having a space for open communication about sex. 

TLDR: You are not broken

So much training from the outside world has landed you here. It is a real, intentional project of deciding what YOU believe about sex and letting go of old pressures to free yourself up to have the sex life of your dreams (or to even know what you dream of!). There is nothing wrong with you for wanting a different relationship with sex than the one you've been handed. The good news is that desire, pleasure, and connection are skills that can be cultivated. There is a path forward—and you don't have to find it alone.

Many of my clients are incredibly competent people. They can run businesses, raise children, manage households, and solve complicated problems at work. Then they come into my office and discover that when it comes to sex, they have no idea what they want, what they enjoy, or how to ask for it. That's not a personal failure. It's usually the result of years of training to focus on everyone else's needs before your own.

If this message resonates, click here to sign up for a free consultation call with me to see if I am a fit for you! As always, if I am not right for you, I will do my very best to guide you to resources that can help! 

My Husband Wants an Open Relationship. I Don't. Now What?

First: Don't Panic

Your husband tells you he wants an open relationship.

Maybe he says he's interested in non-monogamy.

Maybe he wants to try swinging.

Maybe he's developed feelings for someone else.

Maybe he says he's always been curious.

Whatever the reason, you feel like your whole world is coming apart.

You might be wondering:

• Is my marriage over?

• Does this mean I'm not enough?

• Is he already cheating?

• Am I being pressured into something I don't want?

• What if I lose him?

• What if I say yes and hate it?

• What if I say no and lose my marriage?

Take a breath.

The fact that your partner wants an open relationship does not automatically mean your relationship is doomed.

But it does mean there are important conversations ahead.

What Makes This So Painful?

One of the hardest parts is that couples are often having two different conversations without realizing it.

One partner is talking about possibility.

The other partner is experiencing threat.

Your husband may be thinking:

"What if there are ways we could experience more freedom, growth, or adventure?"

Meanwhile, you may be hearing:

"You're not enough."

And until both experiences are understood, it's almost impossible to move forward productively. It’s also very difficult for you to determine what you actually want and what is actually possible when you are panicked, and desperate to save your marriage. 

The Most Common Mistake Couples Make

Many couples rush to answer the question:

"Should we open our relationship?"

Too often, they skip the more important question:

"Why is this coming up?"

Before making any decisions, it's worth slowing down and getting curious.

What does non-monogamy represent to each of you?

Freedom?

Sexual exploration?

A mismatch in desire?

A need for novelty?

A fear of commitment?

A longing to feel more alive?

This is an opportunity to connect before making earth-shattering changes. So often people dive in too quickly because they’ve been avoiding the issue for too long. You really need a transition period that involves really confronting the idea together. You may have never negotiated anything like this before, so getting a couples therapist who specializes in non-monogamy or polyamory can be very helpful! 

You Do Not Have To Decide Today

Many people feel pressured to immediately choose.

Yes or no.

Open or closed.

Stay or leave.

But most healthy decisions happen after understanding—not during panic.

You are allowed to:

• Take your time

• Ask questions

• Feel conflicted

• Change your mind

• Gather information

• Not know yet

The goal is not to become comfortable with non-monogamy overnight.

The goal is to understand yourself, and this happens slowly over time with experiences and reflection. And collaboration with your spouse. 

What If I Never Want Non-Monogamy?

This is one of the biggest fears people bring into my office.

"What if this is something my partner truly wants, and I don't?"

The answer is simple, but not easy:

You are allowed to have limits.

Non-monogamy is not inherently more evolved than monogamy.

Monogamy is not inherently more secure than non-monogamy.

The goal isn't to figure out which relationship structure is superior.

The goal is to figure out which relationship structure is aligned with your values, and what suits you. 

You do not owe anyone access to your body, your relationship, or your consent simply because they discovered something important about themselves. Of course, this may mean confronting some uncomfortable conversations and consequences, but it is better to address it than to let it fester or try to avoid it. 

What If Part Of Me Is Curious?

Sometimes people arrive certain they want to say no.

Then, as the panic settles, they discover curiosity underneath the fear.

Not always.

But sometimes.

It can be helpful to have a private space to explore your curiosity without pressure. It is really difficult to uncover what you may be interested in when you feel like you have to figure this out or conform in order to please someone else. This might be an area where individual therapy can be more helpful than couples therapy, so that you can try to understand yourself better and explore what interests you without the gaze of your partner, and all their hopes and desires, pushing you in a certain direction. 

The Real Work

Whether you ultimately choose monogamy, non-monogamy, or something in between, the deeper work is often surprisingly similar.

Learning to:

• Communicate honestly

• Identify your needs

• Set boundaries

• Tolerate uncertainty

• Understand jealousy

• Build trust

• Advocate for yourself

• Stay connected during conflict

These are relationship skills that matter no matter what structure you choose.

You Don't Have To Figure This Out Alone

If your husband wants an open relationship and you're feeling overwhelmed, confused, angry, curious, or terrified, you're not broken and you're not behind.

This is one of the most emotionally complex conversations a couple can have.

And it's okay if you need support.

You don't have to rush toward a decision.

You don't have to convince yourself to want something you don't want.

You don't have to figure it all out today.

You just need a place to start. 

If you're struggling with questions about desire, sexuality, or non-monogamy, I offer therapy in California and coaching nationwide. Click here to schedule a free consultation call to see if I would be a good fit to support you or your relationship!