Dating Bradford: Open, Says Me!

Six months into our casual dating, Cleat and I made the decision to become boyfriends. Almost immediately we talked of having an open relationship, both feeling it was a realistic interpretation of a modern union between two been-around-the-blocks who understand gay male behavior.

We negotiated a period of monogamy at the beginning to establish some kind of foundation. He wanted a year, but we were both business traveling a lot at the time, so we settled on six months. In truth it was I who upped the ante, as I was shooting in England almost monthly, and there’s nothing more depressing about a foggy day in London town than not getting laid (and if you click on this link, a cute naked boy will sing to you about it.)

“Baby, you know how awful it is when I have to spend two weeks at a time with the up-tights,” I said, “And there’s this private men’s spa in London called Chariots. . . ”

After some skillful prodding on my part, “we” decided it was time to open things up as long as some ground rules were established. You know, “sucky sucky YAY, fucky fucky NO WAY,” and such.

Unfortunately, it turned out to be too early for our love-life retrofit, and neither of us realized until too late that having an open relationship wasn’t working. Instead of reaping the rewards of a carefree cats-away clause, we sowed instead the seeds of doubt, jealousy and distrust (not to mention an occasional STD) into our cake mix. Before we knew it we were breaking up, or rather Cleat was breaking up with me with the words, “You’re incapable of being monogamous and I can’t be nonmonogamous, so it’s OVER!”

“But wait, wait, wait,” I said, grasping for a parachute, “I can be monogamous, (I think) I’ll do it for you.”

Later, I realized it’s ridiculous to try and force yourself to be monogamous for someone else; you have to want to do it for yourself. At the time Cleat and I were together I didn’t really want it, I only thought I did. I tried to believe I was ready, but inside I was harboring feelings that monogamy was a trap instead of a safety net and that I had never been in a relationship where I wasn’t cheated on, or vice-versa. I didn’t think it was possible for two men to be monogamous. Surely all those couples who pretended to be must be lying to each other? I wasn’t willing to trust again.

Three years later, or probably one minute after Cleat and I broke up, all I want now is to be monogamous with a boyfriend. It wasn’t until I lost the love of my life (so far) that I came to the conclusion I was ready to make that kind of commitment, for myself. To have the security in knowing the one I am with is the only one I want to be with, and hopefully to be able to trust someone with my heart again.

Who knows when I’ll find the right guy to share this with? And who can say it won’t be a struggle even then, or if he will cheat on me (better not, you rat bastard, or Bon Qui Qui will CUT YOU).

What I do know is that unless monogamy is something both partners truly want, it won’t work if it’s forced. Same goes for an open game plan.

Sometimes a partner will coerce us into having an open relationship by promising renewed interest or more adventurous variety in our sex lives. Or, sometimes we are the catalyst to push the issue. It might start innocently enough with a three-way make-out on the dance floor, or a business trip to Miami that coincides with the White Party when we find ourselves saying, “When in Rome . . .” Sometimes it’s a gradual progression over the years that unlocks our bedroom doors.

However they start, open relationships can become as sticky as KY. Complications arise from fleeting  feelings of failure or inadequacy, to the more morose mediations to mend macabre medical maelstroms (three times fast). In other words, just because you can eat your cake doesn’t mean it always tastes good.

So for all you seasoned vinaigrettes out there who dine at the salad bar of love, I ask: How do you handle the issues in an open relationship?

(Photo: Bradford Noble)