Watching My Boyfriend Have Sex Helped Me Get Over My Jealousy Issues

By Zachary Zane 

The only time I’ve ever yelled at my brother in the past decade was when we driving through Iceland, on our way to a glacier lagoon.

“I don’t know what it is.” I told him, “I just get so jealous with her. It doesn’t matter who she’s talking to, I just assume the worst. That they’ve slept together in the past and still have feelings. Or they’re sleeping together now behind my back.”

He tried to console me, saying how clear it was that my girlfriend of the time was madly in love with me. I really had nothing to worry about. While I knew this to be true, and I told him so, I explained to him how jealousy doesn’t work logically.

Finally, he said, “Honestly, you just need to see her fuck somebody else. That’ll make you realize—”

“Just shut up, Niko” I snapped. “Seriously, just shut the fuck up.”

The rest of the car ride we drove in silence.

That’s why it won’t come as a surprise to you that I never thought I’d be polyamorous. Monogamy was it for me. It wasn’t that I was opposed to ethical non-monogamous relationships with some unjustified moral superiority. It wasn’t that I believed the negative stereotypes that plague polyamory: one person always gets left in the dust, it’s an excuse to sleep around, and so on and so forth. It was that I didn’t think in a million years that I’d be able to seriously date someone who was not only sleeping, but in love with, someone else. The green-eyed monster living somewhere deep in my gut would rear it’s ugly head and take over my every thought.

Then I met Jason. We wouldn’t have worked if I’d met him at any other point in my life, but I met him at the exact right time. My ex and I had just broken up, and after being in a monogamous relationships for a while, the first thing I do post breakup is have sex with a bunch of other people.

So I was off on a sex rampage, during which I found myself casually dating two men. Both of whom, I learned, wanted something more than casual. They wanted commitment, and commitment, to them, meant monogamy. I told them both I couldn’t be monogamous. While I hid it well, I was still an emotional wreck from my last relationship. When I told the second man this, I brought him to tears. That’s when I realized I shouldn’t date. Just sex. Keep it simple, because that’s all I wanted right now. That’s all I could give of myself right now.

When I met Jason at an underground leather fetish event in Boston, he was there with his boyfriend. He also told me that he lived with his girlfriend and wife of eight years. I was fascinated. I hadn’t actually met someone before who had multiple serious partners (at least that I knew of).

We ended up becoming friends — just friends. He never made a move on me sexually. He never showed any interest in me sexually. However, he kept on inviting me to parties filled with other polyamorous folks. They weren’t official play parties (though lots of making out did occur). Everyone there seemed to be dating everyone else there. While I found it all oddly incesutious, I liked that many of the folks their identified, like myself, as bisexual.  Then, unexpectedly, after attending about four of these events, Jason asked me out on an official date. I was taken back. I said sure, (breaking my rule of not dating), mainly because I was shocked and didn’t know what else to say. However, the more I thought about it afterwards, the more I liked the idea. He already had a boyfriend, wife, and girlfriend, among many other casual partners. He has no time to seriously date me even if he wanted to. This is perfect. I could have a consistent friends with benefits fuck, which is all I really wanted at the time.

One date led to two, and two to two more. Before I knew it, I was seeing him nearly every day. It turns out when you really like someone, you find the time. He’d stop by after work on his way home, or I’d head over in the evening to spend the night. It was great.  

Before I knew it, we were seriously dating, but unlike in my previous monogamous relationships, we didn’t have an official “talk.” We had talks about how we liked each other, and wanted to keep seeing each other more. But there wasn’t the What-are-we-should-we-be-monogamous talk because monogamy was so clearly off the table. The man was married for God’s sake.

Then he invited me to a real play party. My first one. The theme was men as servants — there to please the women. All the gentlemen were to be naked wearing little bow ties. While I had slept with many folks beforehand, my sexual experiences were all confined to a bedroom with one, and on some special occasions, two people. Outside of my computer screen, I had never seen an orgy or multiple people having sex at once.

Before going, he asked me a few things to make sure I’d feel comfortable at the party. Since we had never been to a party like this before, he wanted to set clear ground rules. He asked what I’d feel comfortable doing. I said I honestly have no idea what I’d feel comfortable doing. We will have to play it by ear. He then asked if it would be okay if he had sex with someone else at the party. I told him he absolutely can.

I was surprised the words were leaving my mouth. Yes, you can absolutely have sex with someone in front of me. But we were going to a sex party. We weren’t exclusive. I knew that he was sleeping with other people, though we didn’t really discuss it that much (in the beginning of our relationship. That changed over time, when began sharing all of our sexual encounters.). I didn’t want to be controlling of him. I wanted him to have fun.

After a couple hours, things got going. I couldn’t get hard. I was wayyy too nervous. So I was wandering around aimlessly, looking at all the naked bodies. I stumbled into a room, where he was being intimate with his wife. He waved me in, and I watched. I would have thought that watching him have sex with someone — someone he’d been married to for nearly a decade — would make me jealous. I’d feel misplaced or secondary. But nothing.

He asked me if I wanted to join, and I said for making out, which I did. We all made out for a little bit. Then I backed off a little, merely rubbing them both while he penetrated her. When they finished, we all lied in bed together. He asked me if I was okay.

I was. I was completely fine. Watching him have sex didn’t make me boil over with jealousy. It didn’t make me question his love for me. It didn’t make me think that our relationship was any less important than his and his wife’s. I just felt lucky that he included me. That he let me experience his joy and be a part of his intimate moment.

That’s when I realized it was never the sex itself that caused my anxiety and jealousy. It was the fear of her breaking her word.. It was the “If she cheats on me, can I ever trust her again?” I didn’t want to be put in that position. I didn’t want to have to respond to an act of betrayal. But when he wasn’t betraying me — when he was being honest and open — I didn’t get jealous. There really was nothing to be jealous about.

So years later, it turns out my brother’s advice was right on the money. Sometimes you just need to watch your partner plow (or get plowed by) someone else to rid yourself of all those toxic jealous feelings. Then you’ll be able to realize that having sex with someone else doesn’t take away from the love they have from you. In fact, it may do the opposite. After watching my boyfriend have sex with his wife, I felt more connected to him. There’s something special about being able to have joy for your partner when he shares an intimate moment with someone else.