M is for monotony... sorry, monogamy

I must have read too many fairy tales as a kid because for a long time I thought that if a man fell in love with you, he'd only have eyes for you and you'd live happily ever after. Oh, the pain I went through to unshackle myself from this naive belief. 

Now I've seen the light and have concluded that monogamy is impossible. Impossible, that is, if you want to enjoy healthy and satisfying sex throughout your entire life. Sure, it's possible for brief periods of time in a relationship, but for a lifetime? That's 50 or 60 years of sex with the one person, with no indiscretions and no long periods of abstinence (a long-term sexless marriage). And don't give me any of this New Age tantric shit for lifelong harmonious monogamy; I've met enough people in this field to know that it's just a quick way to turn a buck.

Society serves us up a whole pile of shit on a plate to suggest that monogamy should be the norm and if we can't achieve it, then we're somehow a failure. You choose monogamy in a relationship, it doesn't just miraculously happen when you fall in love. 

It's usually easy to choose monogamy in the first few years of a relationship, but then five, ten, fifteen years down the track, things start to get a little shaky. It's not as easy to match your sexual rhythm to your partner's. You feel like it, they don't... they feel like it, you don't. Grievances build up, life happens, you get to know each other a little too well. You may still have sex but it's become monotonous. Like listening to a favourite song over and over again, you soon tire of it. Give it time and it may grow on you again, but that intense liking you enjoyed when you first heard it, that's gone, baby, gone!

So, what am I suggesting, some free for all gang bang, a beastly sexual feast that celebrates our primordial roots? God, no! Nor am I advocating polygamy. It's not part of my culture, I don't understand it, and it seems to be unnaturally skewed in favour of men. But we do have to concede something to biology.

In my 20s, I never understood why my partner could not help but stare at well-rounded bottoms, shapely legs or bouncy, pert boobs. Once, he eyed a very shapely bottom in a pair of tight jeans and like a rat trailing the Pied Piper, he followed her into a store. I felt hurt and offended. A sharp, "What the fuck are you doing?" broke him from his reverie.

Today, I'm more relaxed, though I do suggest subtlety and don't do it when I have PMT (or at least don't let me catch you doing it when I have PMT!).

However, to be fair, men aren't the only ones influenced by biology. I look, too, and I primp, preen and groom for a night out. I like to feel sexy. At our most basic – emotions and intellect aside – we are sexual creatures.

Yet, as humans, it's also impossible to put our emotions and intellect aside when it comes to sex, and I have to admit that, personally, I prefer monogamy. It's safe, it's comfortable and sex can continue to be amazing with the one partner if you're willing to explore. Perhaps this is more representative of my biology; there is no longer any need for me to find a male mate as I've already procreated.

However, though monogamy is preferable for me, I still maintain that healthy and satisfying sex with just one partner is not possible for a lifetime, and I'm not talking about the natural ebbs and flows of a monogamous relationship, which will include times of abstinence, times of boredom, times when the last thing you want to do is have sex. I'm talking about times in a long-term relationship when you seem to be on a whole different wavelength sexually to your partner, and it continues year in, year out. 

After my son was born, I lost my libido. I has no sexual desire. None, zilch, nada, zip. My partner was understanding and we literally didn't have sex for a year. Then one year became two, two years became three, three years became four. 

My sexual desire (or lack of) dominated the relationship and it would have been cruel and unloving of me not to consider my partner's sexual needs after so long. He accepted and appreciated my lack of libido, I had to accept and appreciate that he wanted a sex life, though it couldn't be with me. After all, it's not exactly sexually arousing to have sex with an unwilling and unreciprocating partner! So, I agreed, he should have a lover. 

It was only for a brief period and they only met on a handful of occasions. Also, his lover knew he was with me and had a family. 

Yes, I was jealous, but I found I could more easily live with this then I could with having to have sex when I didn't feel like it. Sex had became a chore and I would joke with my partner to just put it on my list of things to do and I would get it when I could! Not exactly the recipe for good sex.

Surprisingly, though,  something else happened when I let my partner have his sexual freedom. My libido returned! My partner's brief affair was the spark I needed to get me interested in sex again. (That, and also the fact that I was now well into my 30s, said to be a peak sexual period for women, which got me thinking of biology again. Was my body letting me know that this was the last chance I had to have another baby?)

This newfound desire taught me something else: a favourite song may get tiresome after continuous play, but there are many other songs to play, thousands in fact, and each takes you to a different place. 

Now, I'm not suggesting this would work for everyone. In fact, I'm not suggesting anything at all. Everyone is free to make their own choices based on their own life experiences. However, I do maintain that monogamy cannot work over a lifetime, and when it isn't working an open relationship is for me preferable to a sexless one. 

If you've enjoyed monongamous sex for 50 or 60 years – I'd even accept 40 – or know someone who has, then let me know. We could have a potential bestseller on our hands. I already have a title: The secrets to lifelong monogamy. It can be possible!