"Why Are You Married Then? A Real Answer from a Polyamorous Wife (We Didn’t Break Up — We Rewrote the Rules)"
I get this question a lot.
Sometimes it's asked with genuine curiosity.
Other times, it’s asked with a hint of judgment.
"If you're dating other people… if you have multiple partners… if you're getting romance, sex, and connection elsewhere... why are you married then?"
So let me give it to you straight.
I got married because I was in love.
I was 23. He made me laugh. He saw me. He wanted to build a life with me, and I wanted to build one with him. There was no big agenda beyond that—just two people choosing each other.
We stood up in front of family and friends and made promises:
To love, to honor, to support each other for life.
We meant it. And we still mean it.
But here’s what they don’t tell you at the wedding:
Marriage isn’t a straight line.
People grow. Desires shift. Needs evolve. And unless you’re both robots, you’re going to hit places where what you need doesn’t always match what your partner can give.
So… why are we still married?
Because we want to be. Because our love never left—even when life got messy.
We didn’t always have great sex. We didn’t always communicate well. There were days we barely touched. There were years where I didn’t even know what I wanted, sexually or emotionally. And he was doing his own work too.
But what we never lost was this:
We still liked each other.
We still made each other laugh.
We still wanted to be in each other’s lives.
That’s when we asked the big question:
What if we stopped trying to be everything to each other?
What if we just let each other be… exactly who we are?
Enter polyamory.
Polyamory didn’t “save” our marriage. But it made it more honest.
It gave us room to stop pretending we were fulfilled in ways we weren’t.
It gave us permission to say: “I love you, and I also need things you can’t give me.”
It allowed me to explore kink, romantic attention, and deep intimacy without shame.
It allowed him to connect with women who spark parts of him I don’t.
We always were more comfortable sleeping apart, so that didn’t change anything
We still cooked meals and laugh about old stories.
We still fight and make up like any long-term couple.
But now… we also breathe.
So when someone asks me, “Why are you married then?” — my answer is this:
Because I still love the hell out of this man.
Because we made a commitment that includes freedom.
Because we didn’t quit when things got hard.
Because our love grew up.
And because loving him doesn’t mean I can’t also love others.
We’re not perfect. But we’re honest.
When things in our marriage began to shift, we were faced with a choice. The standard narrative says you either make it work as-is, or you split up and start over. But what if there's a third option? What if you evolve together?
That’s what we chose.
We didn’t choose divorce. We chose curiosity. We chose honesty. We chose polyamory.
Not because something was broken. Not to fix our marriage. But to respect the truth about who we had become as individuals.
We realized we were no longer sexually compatible. My husband is more tantric, meditative, and spiritual about intimacy. I lean into kink, intensity, and play. Instead of asking each other to shrink or stretch into something uncomforatble, we gave each other permission to seek those experiences with others—while still choosing each other as life partners.
That’s the core of this: we chose each other. Still do.
Opening our marriage wasn’t a fracture—it was a release. A way to grow closer by being honest about what we needed. We both found new joy, new pleasure, and new appreciation for each other by not pretending anymore.
And let me say this clearly: polyamory isn’t a Band-Aid for a failing relationship. It requires deep communication, radical honesty, and mutual respect. We didn’t open our relationship to escape problems. We opened it because our bond was strong enough to hold space for more.
It’s also worth mentioning that many women my age—50s and beyond—have quietly accepted sexual dissatisfaction. Some haven’t had meaningful intimacy in years. Some have never experienced what it’s like to be truly pleasured. I know that confusion. I was that woman. At different times, I have experienced all of it. Every woman has. I didn’t know how to ask for what I wanted and I didn’t know how to gracefully redirect attention.
But not anymore.
Today, I have lovers who care deeply about my pleasure. They aren’t trying to fix me or get something in return. They’re just present. Passionate. Generous. I’ve stopped performing. I’ve started receiving. And for the first time in my life, I feel fully expressed.
And still—I come home to my husband. We cook dinner. We hold hands. We laugh. We make each other drinks. The love hasn’t left. It’s matured. It’s rooted. It’s unshaken.
So no, we didn’t give up. We just stopped pretending we were one-size-fits-all people in a one-size-fits-all marriage. We honored our vows—not by clinging to outdated rules, but by evolving our love to meet the truth of who we are now. No matter what or who comes in our lives. We are chosen family. That is what defines us.
And honestly? It’s been the most honest, liberating chapter of our life together.
That’s more than most people can say.
