We Opened Our Marriage—And Found Something Deeper

For most of my life, I believed marriage had one definition—strict, sacred, and sealed in a church by the hand of God. I was raised Catholic and immersed in teachings about purity, sin, and the lifelong promise of monogamy. Sex was reserved for marriage. Anything outside of that was considered wrong, dangerous, immoral, and damaging. Or at least, that's what I was taught.

But as I grew older, life had other plans. And honestly? I'm grateful it did.

Cracks in the Foundation

Everything began to shift for me around 2006. I had just lost my virginity and soon found myself in a complicated situation, one that challenged everything I believed. I entered a sexual relationship with a married woman. I was young, curious, and torn between guilt and exhilaration.

That experience didn't dismantle my belief system overnight, but it left cracks. And once those cracks formed, questions started pouring in.

Between 2008 and 2010, I lived in a constant tug-of-war between what I'd been taught and what I was beginning to feel. I dated. I explored. I felt joy and guilt in equal measure. Catholic guilt is no joke—it lingers. But so did an undeniable desire for sexual freedom and self-discovery. I didn't want to betray my values; I just wanted to understand them on my own terms.

The Traditional Marriage That Was Anything But

In 2010, I got married—not in a church, but in a city hall, by a female clerk. Later, we went to a mountain and exchanged vows privately—just the two of us. It was as close to an elopement as possible without calling it one.

Other than that, our marriage followed traditional lines in many ways: We were faithful, monogamous, and deeply in love. We meant every word of our vows—to love and be loyal to each other. For years, we followed the path couples are "supposed" to take; build a home, remain faithful, and fulfill the roles religion and society laid out for us.

But over time, something began to stir—quietly at first. It emerged in small conversations, fantasies, and curiosities. We were afraid to speak of them aloud… until we finally did—and discovered we weren't alone.

I'll never forget the moment I confessed to my wife that, during our dating years, I had slept with two other women. I thought it might break our marriage. Instead, it broke us open. That moment didn't lead to destruction—it led to deeper trust.

From there, we began talking about everything: past experiences, desires, group play, and the "what ifs" we had previously kept buried. We didn't just talk more—we talked better. No more secrets—just truth. And that truth became the bridge to something unexpected: the swinger lifestyle.

Lust, Love, and Everything In Between

Let me be honest—before we opened our relationship, I had to define what lust and love meant for us.

Lust is that wild spark across a crowded room—the heart-racing thrill of newness and the unknown how Sarah (a fictional person) felt when she locked eyes with someone new at a party. That pull. That craving. That sexual tension. It's real and fun—but not love. Lust is a carnal desire to feel, to experience, to indulge.

Love, on the other hand, is something else entirely—the quiet moment over dinner when you feel truly seen. The trust is vulnerable. Mike (Sarah's partner) feels love when he looks across the table and sees not just a lover, but a teammate—someone in it with him for the long haul. It's built through deep emotional connection, not fleeting chemistry.

Here's the twist: intimacy doesn't always belong to love.

That was a significant revelation for us. I had been taught that intimacy—especially sexual intimacy—was sacred and reserved for marriage. But that isn't always the case. Intimacy can be physical. Emotional. Both. Or neither. It can be a sensual night with someone new or a vulnerable conversation with your spouse.

In open relationships, especially within the lifestyle community, you learn that lust, love, and intimacy each have their own lane. They can intersect—but don't have to. And when you begin naming those differences out loud with your partner, you create space for a more authentic connection.

Exploring Without Losing Ourselves

Opening our marriage wasn't about fixing something broken. It celebrated what we had built—something strong enough to expand without fear.

We set boundaries, communicated constantly (and still do), checked in, recalibrated, and, above all, chose each other—every single day. We discovered that deep love and full commitment can coexist with physical exploration elsewhere. That doesn't mean something's wrong. Sometimes, it simply means you're curious, honest, and human.

And let me tell you—nothing has strengthened our bond more than the trust and honesty this journey has required.

What I Know Now

Looking back, the journey wasn't easy. It has been raw, liberating, terrifying, and beautiful—and wholly ours.

Today, our marriage doesn't resemble the one I was raised to believe in. And I wouldn't change a thing. Here's what I've learned:

• Lust is a spark—exciting, intense, and often fleeting.

• Love is the fire—steady, patient, and built over time.

• Intimacy is a gift that appears in many forms, romantic or not, and holds value even when it stands alone.

Whether you're in a monogamous marriage or exploring new terrain, what matters most is clarity, communication, and consent. When you understand the difference between lust, love, and intimacy—and talk about them openly—you don't lose your relationship. You deepen it.

So, if you're on a journey like ours or just beginning to question the script you were handed, know this:

• Rewriting your definition of love is okay.

• Exploring is okay.

• Choosing honesty—even when it's scary—is okay.

A real connection doesn't come from fitting into a box but from trust and setting each other free.