By the time I finally suggested to Jack that we open our marriage, I’d been wondering about it for two years. In hindsight it seems ridiculous that I was more afraid to explore the subject with him than I was to cheat, but maybe it’s not surprising. Broaching the topic of nonmonogamy was a step closer to acknowledging the unthought known, which I was subliminally convinced would be ruinous, so I continued to stay as far away from it as possible.
And then I reached a tipping point, which was brought about by a series of events that helped me step from the shadows of adulterous shame into the light of consensual nonmonogamy.
The first thing to happen was that I went to the movies. More specifically, a documentary called Beyond Naked, which is about four people, including my sister Mari, who accept a challenge to ride their bikes naked in the Fremont Summer Solstice parade, an annual tradition in Seattle. Because she starred in the film, Mari got to attend the premiere. She invited me as her plus one.
Before the lights in the theater went down, Mari leaned over and whispered, “The filmmaker is the guy with brown hair sitting in front of me and a little to the right.”
I nodded.
“That’s his girlfriend in front of me in white,” she said. Then, “His wife is sitting on his other side.”
My breath caught in my throat as I processed her words.
The film was engaging—funny, endearing, sad, inspiring—but I remained preoccupied for the duration by the man and two women sitting in front of us. I was so intrigued.
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