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!