As a gay therapist who has seen hundreds of gay couples in a vast range of unconventional, loving and sustaining relationship configurations--including monogamy, semi-open relationships (Thursday nights off), three-partner relationships and more--I have grown to respect the fluidity and customized relationship forms that can work well for gay men. However, the gay culture's support of nonmonogamy doesn't mean that therapists should immediately jump to encourage their clients to open up their relationships or accept at face value a couple's desire to become nonmonogamous. Good therapy means not jumping to a conclusion about what would be best for the couple, but helping them explore what they want, including why they might want to become nonmonogamous, their underlying beliefs about how it will change their lives and relationship, the impact it will have on their intimacy and the ethical considerations of emotional safety, physical health and honesty;
Luis and Peter came to see me one evening after work. In their early forties, the men sat comfortably together on my couch, hands folded in their laps. I found it sweet the way they were careful to look at each other before they spoke, to make sure they weren't interrupting the other. Luis, an oncologist, had dark, intense eyes and a warm smile. Peter, a store manager for a large retail chain, had a shy, impish grin. He towered over Luis by a good six inches. They told me they had started dating 10 years ago and moved in together a year later, settling into a satisfying, loving, monogamous relationship. Both were HIV-negative, prosperous and well-integrated as out gay men in their workplaces, with their extended families and in the community. They described a good balance of time together and apart, equitable distribution of housework and financial responsibility and a strong network of friends. I found myself waiting for the other shoe to drop-- perfectly happy people don't come to therapy.
When I asked how I could help them, they both tensed up. Peter shot Luis a look and said, "The thing is, I still find Luis really sexy, but we're not having sex as often as we used to. I mean, we still have sex, but it's not like it was, and it seems to be getting, you know, even more . . . I don't know . . . I guess I worry that maybe he's not as turned on to me. Am I beginning to lose him?"
Luis's eyes widened. "It's not you. It's me. I mean, I don't know what it is, but it's not that. Both of them felt their sex life was becoming increasingly stale and boring, but neither one had felt safe or comfortable talking about what was happening. "It's too loaded," said Peter. "I'm afraid of hurting his feelings or hearing something I don't want to hear from Luis. But it's starting to make us--or me, anyway--wonder if we're really going to last as a couple. That is so terrifying."
Not only do gay men have to live up to patriarchal notions of virility, but also to the gay culture's ideal of the ever-ready, sexual superstar man. I've worked with many gay couples who come to therapy to find out if their sex life is "normal," and so I responded to Luis and Peter first by normalizing the fluctuations in their sexual energy. I explained that frequency and intensity of sexual interactions change and often diminish as the years go on, and that additionally there are cycles to most couples' sexual passion during the course of a long-term relationship.
When they told me they had sex at minimum twice a month, I responded that many couples would envy that frequency after 10 years together, and they were pleasantly surprised to hear it. We talked about their sexual expectations, and how aging could also account for some of the reduced feelings of passion. They both reflected that they didn't seem to daydream or fantasize about sex as much as they did when they were younger, and allowed that this might explain some of the loss of passion they were both experiencing. Peter seemed relieved to hear that there was a reasonable explanation for why their sex life seemed so dull, but Luis still looked miserable. When I asked him what he was feeling, he hesitated and then looked at Peter and said, I've felt too guilty even thinking this to actually suggest it, but I've been wondering what it might be like to open up the relationship." Peter paled, put his head back against the sofa cushions and stared at the ceiling like a doomed man.
In the long, stunned silence that followed Luis's suggestion, I felt excited. We were getting to the taboo subject that both men probably had been dancing around for some time. Often, my gay clients come in to work on sexual problems in their relationships and it emerges that both partners assumed the other one was having sex outside the relationship, but neither one felt safe openly discussing it or negotiating it. My role with Peter and Luis now was to help them air their feelings about nonmonogamy and to make it safe and acceptable for them to discuss this potentially explosive topic without guilt, judgment or recriminations. Neither man would look at the other. I said, "Luis, I respect you for having the courage to raise this in front of Peter. It's important to talk about it." I asked Peter how he felt. He immediately said, "I don't want that. I've thought about it. But I don't think we can handle it. If we do it, we'll end up divorcing."
When I work with gay couples who want to explore the option of nonmonogamy, I have to monitor my own inner voices--the one that celebrates the gay culture's permissiveness and sexual freedom, as well as the one that wants to protect the dyad from possible emotional disintegration. Nonmonogamy is ubiquitous in the gay world, and my gay clients often see it as a possible solution to their couple problems, particularly diminished sexual interest. I see nothing wrong with an open relationship, but--and this is a big "but"--it's not necessarily the solution people think it is, and it's never the only option for improving a couple's sex life. Because there is so much opportunity for hurt, jealousy and diminished couple intimacy when a relationship opens up, I caution my clients to move slowly and consider all angles before they make a decision to open it up. "You can always decide later that this is what you want to do," I told Luis and Peter at the end of this emotional session, but I asked them to agree not to make a decision for at least the next eight sessions, because they needed time to think it through and understand their feelings.
They spent the next few sessions exploring their feelings about nonmonogamy. Neither one had ever been in a long-term relationship before, and they were proud of their longevity. They talked about their fears that they would become like their best friends, who had been together 15 years and had third partners in their bed all the time. Peter and Luis thought their friends' relationship suffered because one or the other was always pursuing some other man. My clients agreed that two of the things they found so satisfying in their relationship was their intimacy and the time they had for each other, both of which would be at risk if they had an open relationship. Luis, who had many patients with HIV and AIDS, also worried about the need to practice safe sex if they started seeing other men--something that they had never had to do with each other, since they were both HIV negative.
After seesawing back and forth-- one week Peter was for an open relationship and Luis was against it, the next week they switched--they both said they were wiped out by the anxiety of the decision facing them. Since they had thought through the implications of an open relationship and still had not found a clear path, I suggested we talk about their sex life now and work on ways they could improve it, letting them know that we could revisit the option of nonmonogamy at any time. "You need to give as much effort and commitment to renewing your sexual bond as you do to your romantic bond, which is in great shape!" I continued. "You're telling me that after 10 years, you both still get it up for each other on a regular basis? How come that doesn't mean a lot to you?" They looked at each other and Luis said, "It does! I never thought about it that way." I continued. "You guys have a wonderful relationship. It's a real jewel, but you've let part of it get dusty. It's time to get out a silk cloth and polish it. Many times, couples fall into patterns that may have worked once but don't anymore, and so it can help to experiment with different ways to be sexual together."
They agreed that they'd like to give it a try, but they were extremely shy about talking about sex. Haltingly both men described how they made love--candles in the bedroom, soft music and then drifting off to sleep-- using words like "loving," "mutual" and "cozy." From my point of view what they were missing was play, spontaneity and sexual risk-taking with each other. It had been years since they had made love on a week night or in the middle of the day, or played with each other in sexy ways--taken a shower together, made love in the kitchen, bought each other sexy underwear. I explained that even though they loved each other, they didn't always have to make love, but could also have some down-and-dirty sex with each other, or, in gay parlance, I gave them permission to "trick" with each other and sometimes use the other as a sexual object if both agreed.
Peter said that he felt embarrassed showing that side of his passion to Luis. "I can't even talk dirty to him because it would be like talking dirty to my sister!" Luis said that he didn't always want to have mutual sex--sometimes he wanted to "do" Peter, and sometimes he wanted to be "done," but that felt selfish and unloving. Peter said he felt like there was a power imbalance in their relationship, which made him feel more vulnerable and dependent sexually and emotionally on Luis, because he viewed Luis as the "better catch" in the gay world--more handsome, more successful. He admitted "I'm nervous that if he's out there he might find somebody." Luis started to cry. "I don't want anyone else. I want a hot sex life, but I want to be married to you."
"You can get your sex life more exciting than it is now," I suggested, "not like the first years you
were together, but certainly better than it is now." I gave them homework over the next few
weeks to tell each other their sexual fantasies, dress sexy for each other, go to a sexual boutique
to look at sex toys together and discuss which one they would want to buy and why. They had a
hard time overcoming their shyness with each other to do even the simplest of these exercises,
which was to say what they liked to do sexually. I tried to help them draw a connection between
their attraction to the sexual excitement of an anonymous sexual encounter and their shyness with
each other. "You're intimate, but you're also closed off from each other," I told them. "You're not
showing each other your full sexual selves, as if you're ashamed of that man inside you who likes
to "fuck." Gay men have a whole vocabulary for sex and it is important for therapists working
with sex-related issues to be comfortable using explicit language. For example, I asked, "What
would you do with a 'trick' that you wouldn't do with each other?" Peter said, "I just want to suck
him off!" When I asked him if he ever did this to Luis he said no, not in years, "because you don't
do that with your husband, you do that with an anonymous fuck." Luis immediately interrupted
him to tell him that he'd love it if they could do those kinds of things again.
Never discounting the effect of homophobia on all of my gay clients, I took some time to examine with them how their ideas about gay sex that they learned as boys--that it was "bad" and "dirty"--made it hard for them to integrate that sexual part of themselves into their loving relationship, as if the two things were not supposed to coexist. "There's nothing wrong with fucking or sucking your partner," I told them. At times, I shocked them with the things I suggested--like going to a sex club and watching other people having sex and then having sex with each other in public, right there; renting a room in the baths and walking around naked and then pretending to pick each other up and having sex there; having sex outdoors on the beach on Fire Island. I was trying to help them jump-start their imagination and their own playfulness. Even my graphic language shocked them a little, but they also told me they used it to help them become more sexually bold with each other. "I wrote Peter a dirty note," Luis reported one week. "Having your voice in my head gave me permission to use those words."
As they began to grow bolder about talking to each other about their sexual fantasies, they realized they both wanted to see what it would be like to have a third man as a sex partner for an evening. After agreeing to ground rules--that this one experience did not constitute an agreement to have an open relationship and that they would only practice safe sex--they found a third man and invited him home. Both felt the sex was not as exciting as they had hoped--there were jealous feelings on the part of both Luis and Peter that got in the way. When the man they picked up that night told them he envied them their relationship and wished they would adapt him, they realized that they resented having a third person in their bed. The reality didn't turn out to be as hot as the fantasy. They made a mutual decision not to try it again. But they continued to experiment with sexual play with each other, and after a few months, they reported with great excitement that they were having hotter sex with each other and that they felt they were out of their rut. Although it wasn't like the early days of their relationship, it was definitely a move in the right direction.
The last time I saw Peter and Luis, they said they were feeling much sexier and more satisfied with each other. They had started talking about other areas in their relationship where they felt they skirted their real feelings out of fear that they wouldn't be "acceptable." They felt they now understood what they had to do to keep their sex life on track, and were feeling more in control of their sex life and what it could become.
As a couples therapist I am always trying to find options that match the needs of the people in front of me. Although opening up the relationship was not the right solution for this couple at this point, nonmonogamy is sometimes the solution for couples struggling with sexual dissatisfaction. My clinical experience has been that if a couple opens up the relationship as a direct result of the revelation that one partner is already having outside sex, it is almost never good for the relationship. A climate of betrayal is not useful for negotiating such a significant change in the relationship I often see male couples where one partner only reluctantly agrees to opening up the relationship because he believes that if he doesn't agree, he will lose his partner. This also doesn't generally bode well for the ongoing emotional health and safety of the relationship.
The times when opening up the relationship seems constructive, creative and functional are when
the couple has an honest and positive level of communication; each man feels secure with the
other and neither one is looking to outside sex as the solution to their sexual or emotional
problems, but rather as an additional delight that both feel comfortable sharing and neither feels
threatened by including in their lives. When couples are able to set up mutually acceptable rules
for conducting the outside sex and agree to periodically revisit those rules to check in and make
sure they are still working for them both, then outside sexual and even romantic attachments may
enhance both partners' lives and their mutual relationship. As someone who has seen such
relationships work, I avoid pious judgments about this much-maligned relationship form. I've seen
it help men jumpstart their sex lives, and some return to a monogamous relationship while others
maintain an ongoing, nonexclusive relationship. The variety of options for gay relationships are a
tremendous strength and resource. Therapists who work with gay couples need to be both
knowledgeable and open to the full range of them. The honesty with which many male couples
address the issue of nonmonogmy may, in fact, serve as a model for heterosexual couples as well.
Nonmonogamous options are thoroughly woven into the tapestry of queer love and are lived out on a richly diverse continuum. Luis and Peter are on the conventional end of the spectrum, yet even they consider "modified monogamy" a plausible choice. However, the prospect of allowing outside sex shakes them out of their lethargy and, with helpful prodding from the therapist, reminds them that they still have a sex life to build on--something a lot of couples, gay or straight, can't say after 10 years.
It seems to me that this duo is semi-consciously looking for a little uncertainty, both as a catalyst for reevaluation of their relationship and perhaps as an aphrodisiac. Discussions about outside sex, along with the associated anxieties, become an effective vehicle for "creative destabilization." Too often, therapists fall into the trap of soothing their own discomfort with ambiguity by coaxing clients toward security, when helping them to tolerate increasing levels of uneasiness would promote more growth. I particularly appreciate how Shernoff accepts and highlights their confusion about how to figure out whether or not nonmonogamy is right for them, and then proposes that they focus on their sex life first, while keeping the nonmonogamy option clearly on the table. Such interim agreements help calm the urge to reach a premature decision during all kinds of difficult transitions.
Shernoff's exuberant menu of sex therapy "homework" eventually seemed to help loosen the
couple up, but the men's reticence to talk about their sexual fantasies and tastes is typical for many
long-term partners, regardless of sexual orientation. The fact is that most couples, including gay
ones, don't venture very far from their sexual routines, although most will experiment around the
edges. Giving homework assignments is tricky--it's easy to overload a couple with sexy
suggestions too far removed from their established repertoire, and thus make them feel even more
demoralized and inadequate than they already do; and, of course, it's also easy to collude with
avoidance. I appreciated the way Shernoff's smorgasbord approach presented Luis and Peter with
possibilities without putting pressure on them or requiring them to sample everything.
I agree with the therapist's cautions about instigating modified monogamy when the relationship is
reeling from a betrayal or otherwise teetering on the brink. Successfully redefining a relationship's
structure requires a strong bond and a deep reservoir of good will. But I must heartily disagree
with Shernoff when he says that outside sex shouldn't be seen as a solution to sexual or emotional
problems, but merely as an added source of delight. This conception is way too idealistic. I believe
that most gay men who open the door to outside sex are, among other things, searching for
solutions to common, intransigent problems such as erotic incompatibilities, significant desire
discrepancies and, yes, the waning passions of long-term love. Modified monogamy is one way
that many gay partnerships--and more than a few straight ones--can continue to flourish, even
though they don't match the forever-after ideal.
Jack Morin, Ph.D. is in private practice in San Francisco. He is the author of The Erotic Mind and
Anal Pleasure And Health: A Guide For Men and Women.
Key Words: Gay men, Homosexuals, queer, relationships, couples, monogamy, sex, love, partnership, psychotherapy, couples counseling