Our candlelit dinner, 21 storeys up overlooking the city of Kaiserslautern, Germany, is the perfect scene for romance. Our move to southwestern Germany had been dictated by Nate’s job
– my husband’s career, as always, had taken precedence – but tonight, celebrating our 17th wedding anniversary, I had his full attention. I’m no doubt taking advantage of this rarity when I blurt out: “What if we had a threesome?”

This bold, sudden statement makes my cheeks flush and Nate’s blue eyes narrow. “What?” he says, putting his beer down. I fiddle with my napkin. “I just… we don’t have sex that often and you’re always tired and…”

Truthfully, I don’t even want a threesome, I just want more than I currently have – sex every three weeks, date nights twice a year and one annual getaway from the kids in which there was more arguing than making love.

“A threesome with another woman, not with another guy, that’s for sure,” says Nate firmly. “What’s wrong with you? It’s our anniversary dinner, I don’t want to talk about this any more.”

That night in January 2022, our marriage changed shape.

The early days

Nate and I met at university. He was studying to be a doctor, I was reading law. We were both ambitious and determined to make the world better. Raised as a Christian, I was so naive I’d never even met a lesbian before university, and believed sex before marriage to be immoral. So Nate planned an elaborate proposal involving chocolate-dipped strawberries, a limousine and a secluded scenic spot in Idaho in the US, where he got down on one knee.

We married in January 2005. The only niggle on the magical snowy day was feeling annoyed at having to agree to “obey” in my wedding vows. I still said it though.

The early days of betrothal weren’t exactly idyllic. Neither of us had the skills yet to build a solid marriage. But we both wanted three children, with our eldest daughter Addison arriving in 2009, her sister Avery two years after that, and in 2013 our son Asher completed the family. I hadn’t even turned 30 when my tubes were tied. Nate worked all hours as a junior doctor, and dutifully I moved the family around to whichever city he was in, throwing myself into becoming an unbearably overachieving mother, the kind who makes her own washing detergent and sunscreen (I know, I know, but I was unfulfilled and lonely).

Despite retraining as a relationship therapist (the hours were more family-friendly than law), as a couple we’d drifted. Once, when I tried to talk to Nate about my feelings, he snapped, “I’m tired, send me an email instead.” I did, pouring my heart out, and then he had the cheek to suggest I edit it more next time. We were not in a good place.

Something had to change

By the time the children reached school age, we had moved yet again. This time to Texas. I’d lost my baby weight and started to feel more like myself again – even beginning to feel desire. Then, in 2017, my father died, ironically of lung disease, one of the conditions that Nate specialised in. Whilst grieving, I was struck by how short life was, and how very neglected and unhappy I felt. I was too proud to entertain the idea of divorce, however – my job meant I was supposed to be the relationship expert. Everyone had told me my marriage would improve as soon as Nate’s career was cemented, yet I felt miserable every time he rejected my advances in bed, my feelings manifesting into endless arguments about school pick-ups, the dishwasher, whose turn it was to walk the dog.

In 2019 we moved to Germany, and I hoped it would bring new adventures to share. But during the Covid pandemic Nate was posted to Africa and I was left to get on with my own life. It’s amazing I didn’t become an alcoholic, frankly, out of loneliness. Instead, I started working with a life coach to rebuild my self-esteem after years of being shut down emotionally and physically.

Part of that process involved joining a football team and getting fit. Sometimes the women’s team would share social events with the men’s team, and while nothing happened, for the first time I began noticing other men physically, and thinking about what it might be like to sleep with someone other than my husband.

Admittedly, I enjoyed having younger men flirt with me. “I suddenly feel like I have my power back,” I told my life coach one session, around my 39th birthday.

“Well act on it then,” she said. “Speak to Nate.” It was the spur I needed to confront my husband about our lacklustre sex life. It’s not that I was looking for anything kinky, only affection, fun, desire.

Finding my way in a new kind of marriage

I was petrified at that anniversary dinner, but Nate had shut me down. It left me deeply ashamed for days afterwards, asking myself what was wrong with me. Was I a monster? I had wonderful children and a marriage to a good man. But was that enough for me? I didn’t let it go.

Over the following weeks, I suggested we open our marriage. Of course this also meant that I needed to think how I would feel should Nate sleep with another woman. And I knew that this would be acceptable to me. He said he had no interest, and that with me and the kids and his work he felt perfectly fulfilled without the need to bring in anyone extra. He recognised that we are not the same, however, and I know he believed me when I said I didn’t want to end the marriage.

I sent him articles about non-monogamy, podcasts, YouTube videos. I promised – truthfully – there was no one waiting in the wings. “How about I just go on one date a month,” I suggested.

By June 2022, five months after our anniversary meal, Nate said: “Look, this is fine if you really want this. Do what you need to do, just don’t tell me about it.”

The first date, three weeks later, was with a German man six years my junior who I had met on a train. In the most delicious build-up we swapped details about our lives and I found myself sexting for the first time: the anticipation, the kissing, the flirting… utterly exhilarating. When I had to go away for work overnight, we arranged to meet for dinner at a resort on Lake Constance. It was thrilling.

The sex, however, was so-so. We texted for a bit afterwards, but never met again.

As agreed, I did not share the nitty-gritty with Nate. He has no interest in hearing details, that’s not a kink for him. But he could appreciate that opening the marriage on my part, this “one-way monogamy”, made me happier, calmer, and I loved him for allowing it.

After that first encounter, I downloaded a polyamorous dating app, and have enjoyed multiple first dates since then, which have led to sleeping with five “boyfriends” in the four years since we opened our marriage.

I have no interest in one-night stands or one-off hook-ups, so I never sleep with anyone on the first date – and I always have a video call before meeting anyone. I want to feel part of a relationship, even if it’s short-lived.

Nate asks to know some basic details about the men before I sleep with them (age, job, whether they’re married or not) and that I practise safe sex. But there are no rules about not texting other men when I’m with Nate – he trusts me and understands my relationships carry no threat to him or our family. On the contrary, we’ve never been closer or more solid.

There have been some hiccups. A year after we opened our marriage, my eldest heard me talking to a boyfriend late one night and confronted me in the kitchen, asking, “Are you having an affair, Mum?”

I burst into tears as all those feelings of shame and guilt came flooding back. But I wanted to be honest and so – with Nate – we went on a walk and I explained everything. “You know how some people like people who are the same gender,” I said. “And some people feel like they’re born into the wrong body? Well, I was born with a lot of capacity to give and receive love, and desire is a big deal for me. But I love your Dad and we are very happily married.”

And guess what? She took it in her stride. Nate also sat with me while I told our other children that same weekend. They are 17, 15 and 12, and we have no secrets.

Since January, I have been dating a British construction worker, Jack*, who I met at a polyamorous social event. We’re having the most wonderful time. Jack and his wife even met Nate at an event at a Cuban restaurant in London. Jack and I held hands in front of Nate, but at the end of the night we all went back to our own beds with our own spouses. Nate and I enjoyed the most intense and loving sex that weekend and it was wonderful to have him there.

I’ve come to accept that Nate will always be married to his job, but our marriage is strong, trusting and very sexual now. Perhaps more couples should try it?

– As told to Susanna Galton

*Not his real name