HUMANISM 101 | Ethical Non-Monogamy and Humanism: The Art of Compersion

While on my journey to non-belief, skepticism and secular humanism, I’ve had many epiphanies. The one that may have struck me as the most poignant, at least recently, was when I heard the word “compersion.” It was the kind of ah ha moment of when a word or expression was finally applied to a feeling and emotion I hadn’t yet been able to articulate.

Compersion simply means to find joy in someone else’s joy. I learned even more recently that the word itself is specifically related to consensual non-monogamous relationships – which was also a sort of epiphany for me in that I didn’t quite get why it mostly applies to sexual or romantic relationships, as I figured being happy for other people shouldn’t require such specifications. As a humanist, finding joy in other’s joy seems to me to be a foundational principle of humanism itself. But I digress, on to my epiphany…

My husband and I were married in March of 2000, when I was barely old enough to drink at 21 and when his brain had almost, but probably not quite finished developing at 24. My father, partly as a joke and partly because he’s kind of a jerk, offered me a Corvette to turn and walk away, as he walked me down the aisle. While I wasn’t thinking of walking away, I was thinking that if getting married so young wasn’t completely foolish, it was at least a little reckless.

I didn’t know many people who had been married for a very long time, except for my grandparents, who were married in the time when no-fault divorce wasn’t a thing, which frankly puts a less-than romantic spin on their 50-year marriage. But we were happy, and I figured I had the rest of my life to correct this possible-if-not-probable mistake. So maybe I wasn’t thinking, “Til death do us part” but more like, “Til we get tired of each other do us part.” So, imagine my surprise as our 20th anniversary came and went.

As all relationships do, whether romantic, business or platonic, we’ve had our ups and downs. We’ve had to learn how to argue, problem solve and how to raise a functioning human being. We’ve grown up together, screwed up together and learned how to communicate without being asses to each other. And through all of that, we have somehow not, in fact, grown tired of each other. And a significant part of all that has been thanks to our sexual relationship with each other, which through the last couple of decades has also gone through its own ups and downs.

I was an exotic dancer when I met my husband, and a question I get asked frequently is whether he has ever been jealous of the attention I received because of that profession. The answer is an emphatic, “No.” It’s a job, and he has always recognized that fact. It has never been a source of contention between us. In fact, before I met him, it was a sort of litmus test for guys that I dated. I didn’t want to quit my job, nor did I want to worry about constantly having to soothe the ego of a jealous partner. I had a “take me or leave me” mindset about it. My husband chose to take me, and that was the end of it.

But my job was of a very sexual nature, and while it didn’t involve actual sex acts, it was an outlet for me in that respect. One in which I was able to engage in the fantasy of other men and occasionally women while portraying a fantasy myself. It was something I didn’t realize I really needed, and in hindsight, I believe ultimately facilitated the health of our marriage.

I’m going to say something that will likely make a lot of people uncomfortable. It won’t be the first or last time, as it’s kind of my thing. But we all think about having sex with someone who isn’t our partner. Maybe you don’t, and that’s great, but I would consider you the anomaly.

Maybe it’s just a fleeting thought, maybe one that brings guilt or shame. Likely a thought you keep locked firmly inside the walls of your skull for fear it would cause pain to your partner. I was in a position to entertain (pun intended) that particular thought, without feeling bad. After all, it was my job. It wasn’t until I retired from adult entertainment that I realized that the fantasy I thought I was simply engaging in because of my job wasn’t exclusive to the strip club. I kind of… no… I really wanted to experience other partners.

And so did my husband.

What is cheating?

Cheating is when you go behind your partner’s back to have sex with someone else. But what if we remove the sex part. Does that make enjoying an aspect of your life with someone other than your partner cheating? If you and your partner really enjoy going to the movies and you do that with someone else behind their back, is that cheating? I think many would say yes, me included.

What makes cheating so bad is the deception, not necessarily the act itself. It is the break in communication, the hiding of the act that is hurtful. The sneaking, the lying and the wedge it creates is the part that is the most hurtful. The physical act is not. Cheating doesn’t have to mean sex, either.

Sex and orgasms are not like… say, the last Oreo cookie. There is not a finite amount. Sure, there may be a last one, but by the time that comes, you’ll be dead or uninterested anyway. The act of sex isn’t a resource to be depleted, no matter what your purity coach may have told you. You’re not chewed gum that will lose its flavor, or a stone pillar that will wither away and shrink after a couple of thousand rainstorms. Sex is part of the joy of living. It is a part of being human, a gift, if you will… to be enjoyed and shared. And there is no reason, other than a fabricated fairy-tale that states you must choose only one person for the rest of your life, to not share in that joy.

Embracing sexuality

Easy for me to say, I know. As a sexual entertainer, it was a prerequisite. And it came easy for me. And as I grew older, I thought I had it all figured out. But I didn’t. Learning new things for me has always come with a side of humility. Mostly because I’m really good at assuming I know much more than I really do. So, when the subject of non-monogamy was finally raised between my husband and I, it wasn’t me that started the conversation, but a former co-worker.

This also made it easy for me. Because her initial suggestion wasn’t that she was interested in my husband, but in me. (Being a switch hitter in the bedroom definitely has its advantages.) The first conversations didn’t elicit any kind of jealousy. And neither did the first encounter. In fact, it was when I felt what I would later come to identify as compersion. My epiphany.

I felt this weird, warm, delightful feeling as the first trappings of monogamy fell away. (I swear it wasn’t the wine.) But the joy I felt in being able to share the experience we both wanted but were afraid to express. The elephant in the room was finally being addressed, and instead of the crushing guilt and pain we may have expected, what happened was that elephant grew wings and flew away. And it seemed that feelings of jealousy went with it. We were together, experiencing it as partners. What was there to be jealous of?

As partners, we were able to speak and communicate openly about our needs and desires in a way that removed the guilt and fear of hurting each other. Of all the time we had spent together, all the things we had gone through, this was an entirely new level of intimacy and communication. One that left us feeling closer than we had ever been.

Deconstructing monogamy 

As with most people who grew up religious, or in my case sort of religious but still a believer, deconstructing ideas that no longer serve your life in a positive way can be a long process. You must unpack and pick apart those beliefs and either let them go or repackage them in a way that is less harmful. While I don’t view monogamy as harmful in most cases, I do think that the guilt and shame that comes along with thinking about cheating on a partner can be. And sometimes those thoughts can’t be helped. They just happen.

Humans, as with most if not all animals, are driven to procreate. And from an evolutionary standpoint, the more the merrier. The bigger the gene pool, the better chance we have at continuing to be a thing on the planet. (It’s science, I promise.) We can’t always help the thoughts that these animalistic urges produce, but we can remove the guilt and shame from them. But first we have to be honest. With ourselves and our partners. All of them. 

For my husband and I, there has been a lot of unpacking and deconstructing of what we now refer to as our “monogamy baggage.” He had the advantage of growing up secular, where I had to let go of my beliefs. So in that respect, maybe I had the advantage, as I had experience deconstructing my belief in a god and an afterlife. And we have come to enjoy even that aspect of what is referred to as the lifestyle. Although, we resisted that term, preferring the word “hobby.”

We consider ourselves to be swingers, but we do have some relationships that aren’t strictly sexual in nature. And the cool part about that is that those couples are a part of our deconstructing journey as well – and a huge part of the feelings of compersion. You probably don’t want to know what I may have said to someone if they had told me that one day, I would get an immense amount of pleasure from the way another person makes my husband glow like a schoolboy in love. But here I am. It is very literally one of my favorite things in the whole world. Compersion is one of the most humanistic feelings I can imagine. A feeling that comes from a deep sense of empathy and appreciation of human experience. And so what if it has to do with sex? There is plenty to go around.

Nope, I’m not saying ethical non-monogamy is for everyone

The ethical non-monogamy umbrella covers a wide range of relationships. Polyamorous relationships that function like a traditional partnership, just with more partners. Swinging or partner swapping, and pretty much any other scenario you can imagine. The key is communication and transparency. That is what allows it all to work. Expressing feelings both positive and negative, openly, honestly and sometimes uncomfortably. And sometimes awkwardly.

As when I write about stripping, I don’t ever recommend that anyone do it. Our society has come a long way in a lot of respects, but sex and sexuality are still fraught with a ton of emotional danger. It has long been a tool of those who want to oppress and control, and as such carries a ton of baggage. And it’s not all religious. Secular purity culture is very much alive. Sex makes people uncomfortable and deviation from what is considered the norm can come with a whole host of social, physical and emotional problems. Jumping into bed with strangers without careful thought, support and communication is a recipe for disaster.

But as a secular humanist, I believe that sexual and romantic relationships and the confines that society puts on them are worth exploring. Sex is a wonderful thing. It is a human thing. It makes us feel good and connects us with other human beings. Limiting ourselves and our partners to what society thinks is acceptable is to risk not feeling the overwhelming joy that comes from seeing the joy in our fellow humans.