CHEATING, TOXIC MONOGAMY AND DISCOVERING NEW RELATIONSHIP STYLES
A reflective essay on my past relationships, the impact of cheating & the journey of discovery that followed.
I always believed that I was a monogamous person, wanting to find "the one" and dedicate my life to them. It was something I used to put a lot of energy and emphasis on, desperately searching for Mr. Right (I was still in the process of coming out at that point, lol). I truly believed that I would feel complete and deeply loved if I were in a committed, monogamous relationship—married, my partner with eyes only for me, a future of dedicated partnership ahead of us. Now, my views are VERY different.
Monogamy is the term used for relationships in humans and animals where they have sexual, emotional, or intimate relationships with only one partner at a time. Monogamy is the most common relationship model in Western society, with estimates suggesting it has been the dominant practice for over 1,000 years, according to a study from the University of London. The researchers at UoL believe that monogamy evolved as a strategy for males to protect infants from other males in ancestral groups, who might kill the infants in order to mate with their mothers for survival.
As we are so far removed from situations like this in modern Western culture, much has changed in terms of relationship styles. New language and a growing sense of acceptance have allowed us to explore different dynamics. Living in this era, we now have the freedom to reflect on ourselves and determine what works for us, without the fear of external threats from neighboring tribes.
There’s so much potential for self-exploration in a time when alternative relationship models—like polyamory, open relationships, or solo polyamory—are more visible and talked about. It’s about finding what aligns with your values, needs, and desires, which might look different for everyone. And it's great that we now have the space to question and choose the kind of connection that feels most authentic, rather than feeling like we must stick to a predefined script.
We are predominantly shown monogamous relationships in TV shows, books, films, and within the wider cultural zeitgeist. The "white picket fence" dream of finding the one feeds into the narrative that true love is about finding one partner to whom you dedicate your life and future. While this relationship style is valid and represents a beautiful commitment between two individuals, I have been on a journey of unpacking monogamy. Reflecting on my own experiences, I’ve come to acknowledge the painful past that fueled a toxic desire for control and submission—rather than understanding what monogamy looks like when practiced in a healthy way.
Healthy Monogamy says We can have platonic friendship connections with anyone of any gender because we understand that our friendships don't threaten our monogamous relationship.
Toxic Monogamy says if you look, flirt, or even acknowledge a person that you could potentially be romantically or sexually attracted to, then you are "cheating" or at least "crossing a line."
All of my relationships from the age of sixteen into my mid twenties, were monogamous. I went through the agony of infidelity with my first boyfriend aged fifteen. The pain of finding out that the boy that took my virginity, had slept with someone in the top year at school was horrific, I then had to watch the two of them walk around together for an entire year after we broke up, I felt rejected, I compared myself to her, I felt worthless. The next relationship I got into after my painful first love was with a really special, kind and wonderful person. I ended up cheating on him, after a couple months of dating, my fucked up brain stupidly making me cheat first, before he could cheat on me. I pushed him away for fear of the very thing I did to him. I shamefully repeated the behavior that really hurt me, wounding him deeply in the process. I was furious and disappointed in myself, causing my very shaky self-worth to plummet. I deeply regret that inconsiderate, selfish and toxic decision to this day and have never cheated on anyone since nor would I ever. If you are reading this - I am so sorry again and again, I take full accountability for my actions and the wound of being cheated on before I did that to you does not excuse or justify my really vile actions. You deserved so much better, I think of you often and wish you all of the love in the world.
My next committed relationship was when I was 19. I fell in love with an older, very attractive male model who added me as a friend on Facebook. He seemed so out of my league, and I was stunned when he asked me out on a date. Then another date. And then, on the third time we met up, he asked me to be his girlfriend and love-bombed the shit out of me.
But at the time, I felt so good about myself—like I was finally enough because this older, successful man thought I was worthy of being his girlfriend. Whaaat? I ploughed through the red flags like a bull in the corrida de toros. He showered me with compliments, lured me in with promises of a forever future together, and my sad little heart leapt in excitement, believing him. I dedicated myself to being the best girlfriend I could be, doing anything he asked of me and asking for nothing in return.
The signs were there—my gut screaming at me that something was off, but I chose to ignore them. After a month or two of constant love declarations and grand shows of affection, he started to become increasingly hyper-critical of me once he had “conquered” me. Love bombing is an intense display of affection and attention used to manipulate or control someone, often seen in abusive relationships.
I was fearful of abandonment and naïve, so I let him wear me down. He would hide his phone, stay out late, and be clearly dishonest about where he was and what he was doing. There were things he did that should have warranted an immediate breakup if I’d been wiser, but I stayed, emotionally scarred and unsure of my worth. He would talk with followers of his instagram, showing me some of the messages and nude photographs that some young, underage girls he called his ‘fans’, had sent. One of them mailed him a letter to his family home address, she was 16, he was 23. Frequently he’d compare me to his ex, telling me the things she did that he loved, explaining why she was better than me- skinnier, prettier, she didn’t smoke cigarettes, she was perfect, and I would never replace her. He soon thereafter began to comment on what I ate, how I dressed, my habits, criticizing the words I used, parts of my body and my personality as a whole. He started to villainize my friends and family, telling me that I couldn’t trust them, successfully gaslighting me into believing that he was always right and everyone I knew and previously trusted was trying to harm me and break up our relationship. He made me believe that I was a liar, that no one else would ever love me, using the things I opened up to him about as weaponry to dismantle my self-worth so he could remain in control.
Sure enough, as it always does, the truth came out. Not only was I cheated on multiple times, he also shared videos of us having sex without my consent with women on the internet he was sexting with, using me and my body to demonstrate how well he fucked. I was ripped apart, alone, sick, rejected, disgusted, he gaslit me out of feeling cheated on and violated, saying that the video ‘celebrated me’, just a couple months prior he was telling me that he wanted to marry me. Confusing much?!
Following that painful experience, I was toxically monogamous- even the thought of a partner being with another person would cause me immense insecurity and jealousy, I’d feel a searing pain in my stomach if someone I was dating would even comment on another woman’s attractiveness, I would instantly compare myself and project my insecurity onto my romantic connections, the fear of being cheated on again was rife and I continued placing immense pressure on people to make me happy.
Strangely, I became even more desperate to find someone who would truly cherish me—someone who would be the only one to have eyes for me, who would rescue me from the agony of it all. My sense of worth was entirely dependent on something external. I wasn’t allowing myself the time to heal from the pain caused by these betrayals, instead throwing my fragile sense of self into more short-lived relationships, often with emotionally unavailable men who would love-bomb me. Anyone who gave me even a little attention would temporarily fill the emptiness and lack of self-respect I had buried so deeply inside. And the pattern repeated.
People-pleasers with low self-esteem are often prey for narcissists. People-pleasers find the control and validation narcissists provide intoxicating, while narcissists revel in the power they hold over them. The people-pleaser bends over backward to meet their demands, feeding the narcissist's need for dominance. It’s an obsessive and dangerous entanglement.
More failed relationships peppered with some short lived positive ones ensued, the pattern repeating, including one particular relationship that ended when I was physically and sexually assaulted in my own home and then blamed for what happened to me. Something had to change.
Serendipitously, I was training to be a counsellor and learning about psychology and in regular therapy because of this, I had the space to unpack and work through the clusterfuck of painful experiences and began to understand more about myself. I was gradually able to piece together a deeper understanding of the dynamics I had been in, thanks to new language and examples from my studies. This allowed me to begin seeing my past and patterns more clearly, slowly shifting them. I found hypnosis to be incredibly powerful. Through it, I unlocked my subconscious and was able to find, heal, and change the belief that I was worthless and deserved all the pain I had endured at the hands of my exes. A profound shift occurred as I dove deeper into my healing journey, working not just with therapy, but also with plant medicine, holistic treatments, and energy healing.
My focus shifted toward evolving and becoming a better person—not just for myself, but for anyone I might enter into a relationship with in the future, unlearning the yucky traits of toxic monogamy. Through my self-work and therapy training, I began learning more about attachment and relationship styles, which expanded my awareness and gave me the space to create boundaries, recognize my people-pleasing tendencies, and understand myself more deeply. I learned to trust myself and others, to define and uphold healthy boundaries, and—crucially—to explore my own desires without shame or judgment.
Around the age of 25, I finally began to feel happy on my own. I no longer wanted, sought, or desperately dreamed of a life-saving relationship. Instead, I found happiness by cultivating it within myself—dating myself, loving myself, tending to my own needs, and fostering my friendships.
In 2021, I met and quickly became very close with a couple, both of whom are my most treasured friends to this day. They had been in an open relationship and ethically non-monogamous (ENM) for over six years at that point. ENM is the practice of taking part in sexual and/or romantic relationships that are not completely exclusive between two people. The boundaries vary per relationship. I was bursting with questions, eager to understand how it worked and why it was so amazing for them. Did they not get jealous? What are the boundaries? Does it not feel weird being in the same bed with someone after they've been with someone else? Don't you ever think about your partner with other people and feel uncomfortable?
I asked it all, and they kindly responded, my mind expanding as they shared the dynamic of their relationship with such openness. Both of them explaining that they loved that their partner was living their best life and was desirable to others. I wanted to dive deeper into this and understand beyond just their experience—what does it look like in practice? I loved how it sounded, but I also recognized that, for someone like me with deeply buried beliefs of not being "enough" and a fear of abandonment, this might be difficult.
I was happily single, feeling secure and curious to explore beyond just reading and researching, so I downloaded Feeld, went on a date with a woman in a polyamorous couple, and connected with her deeply. I was open to dating and exploring connection with someone who had been practicing polyamory for some time. We clicked as close friends but not sexually, but she too was kind enough to share her experiences and dynamics of her relationships.
Polyamory is a consensual, ethical, and open way of having more than one romantic, intimate, emotional, or sexual relationship at the same time. It doesn’t necessarily mean having multiple partners at any given time—it can, but it can also be a label for being open to connection in any form, without causing harm to our partners. It allows people to be emotionally open with others without emotional cheating, which for some, can hurt more than physical infidelity.
Roughly 4% of the population, according to a 2014 study published in the Journal of Psychology, identify as polyamorous. I imagine that number has grown significantly in the last decade, as people have become more informed, have greater access to different relationship styles, and social media platforms have risen to spread awareness and correct misconceptions. This, coupled with more inclusive language and a safer social landscape, has created more opportunities for exploration.
The misconceptions I had about open relationships and polyamory were rooted in the misguided belief that to desire another person is to betray your partner. I once cruelly thought that people in open relationships didn’t truly love their partner—if they did, they wouldn’t want anyone else. Over time, I examined this belief, and it became an important part of my self-reflection. I needed to give myself the time to explore what I truly sought for my future and unlearn the judgment I had internalized.
In contrast, I now see polyamory and open relationships as spaces for a love so powerful that it can support both (or all) partners in feeling safe to explore connection and desire. I recognize the toxic aspects of monogamy that I once believed were the answer for a heartbroken girl. I thought that being loved within the patriarchal framework of partnership, where submission and control override mutual respect, would make me happy.
I’ve come to realize that my happiness must come from within, and I’ve cultivated a belief that to love someone else means supporting them in honoring themselves—allowing them to follow their attractions, explore connections, and grow without comparison or the fear of feeling "less than." I’ve also realized that it’s unfair to expect one person to be my everything, nor do I want to be someone else’s everything. The pressure of that expectation is simply too much.
We each have so many magical and colorful facets of ourselves, and the friendships we cultivate reflect that diversity. We have friends for different reasons—some we call when we're sad, others when we want to party, some when we have an embarrassing rash or strange ailment, others to go on trips with, and some who make us laugh. There are friends with whom we share tales of sexual experiences, and others who prefer not to talk about their intimate lives at all. So, how beautiful it is to strive to create relationships where I can support myself and those I connect with to explore human connection in all its forms. It’s about understanding that I may not always be able to hold space for every need, but also encouraging and cheering on the people I love to explore whatever feels positive, safe, comforting, or exciting for them—whether sexually, platonically, intimately, or emotionally. That being said, that doesn’t necessarily mean that I would be actively seeking other partners, it just is the space to feel able to have connection without wounding someone you care about. One of the most important aspects of being polyamorous is ensuring that you and any partners are fully aware of and consenting to the relationships you have with each other and with others.
One analogy that really shifted the way I see open relationships and polyamory goes like this: If my friend called me and told me they’d met someone on a dance floor, at work, or in the park and there was a strong connection that led to a beautiful night of pleasure, I would REVEL in that with them. I’d be like, "Hell, yes! Tell me everything!" So, why was it different for me when it came to past relationships?
My personal work—then and now—is to remove the separation between friends and romantic partners, to treat both with the same openness and enthusiasm. It’s about releasing the intense claims I used to place on people and learning to adapt from an anxious attachment style to a more secure one. I’ve learned to let go of connections that aren’t compatible with me or that were simply replaying old patterns and toxic attachments.
It’s not necessarily easy work, especially when you’re entering your first open relationship. There’s a lot of self-reflection and communication that needs to happen. The first few experiences can feel strange, particularly when deeper emotions like love get involved. It’s crucial to communicate where you stand from the start, so everyone involved can decide if it’s something they’re comfortable exploring. When feelings of jealousy or insecurity arise—which, for some if not all people, they inevitably will—there are ways to navigate through them, heal old wounds, and ultimately form deeper bonds with our partners. This process can also make it easier to let go of relationships without experiencing overwhelming feelings of loss.
If we start to feel insecure or jealous about a partner’s new connection or the time they spend with another partner, it’s helpful to first look inward and try to understand why these feelings are coming up. It could be the fear of abandonment from an absent parent, or the fear of not being enough because of past experiences with dishonesty, betrayal, or deception. These feelings are valid and normal. The key is to navigate them by processing, regulating, and communicating with a therapist, a trusted friend, or a supportive member of the community. This can serve as your first step. When I notice the insecure part of myself creeping up, as it inevitably does, I remind it that I am safe. I remind myself that comparison is the thief of joy, if feelings of unworthiness arise, I have tools to work through them. I am free to walk away from any situation that isn’t serving me—respectfully, and without shaming the other person for their choices. I’ve learned that I don’t want to change anyone to fit my old vision of love, which was rooted in the idea of total dedication meant to prove I was enough.
All ways of connection and intimacy are valid and there are a lot more types of relationship style than just monogamous, ENM, open and polyamorous, there is language for all of them and space to explore, for that I am thankful as, like everything, it can evolve, change, revert and grow into something entirely different. Each person is different, every relationship style is valid and I am so grateful to exist with the freedom to explore.
Frankie x