You Don’t Have to Compartmentalize
Molly’s Story
A couple of weeks ago, I performed my first strip tease. In public. While wearing a Michael Myers mask. Sure, we can pause a moment to take that in.
It was for an Edgar Allan Poe-themed show at a bar in downtown Austin, and peeking out my mask’s eye holes, I saw people from various chapters of my life. Scattered around vinyl booths and rickety folding chairs, some sitting right there on the floor, wisps of synthetic smoke between us.
I saw my best friend in aerial dance, smiling up at me as I slid off my pants. We did our first show together in this bar 12 years ago, back when there was penny tile on the floor, back when Austin still felt small, back when I was starting to idolize her.
I saw a friend who belongs to a sex positive storytelling group with me, there on a date with his gorgeous partner. I remember when they first started dating, his Instagram Stories flush with photos.
I saw a mom friend hollering at me from the bar: she was one of the first to jump on tickets for this thing. We’re fans of each other’s work and fans of weird hyperlocal art in general, so it might be more accurate to call her an art friend, even though yes — we’re also moms. And yes — we’ve seen each other’s breasts in various contexts.
I saw the parents of my child’s best friend, the girl mine met in kindergarten. When they were 6, they made up a game called “horse girls” and later another game called “police,” and no one knows how horse girls or police is played but it doesn’t matter now because they’re both Swifties, which trumps everything. It was a Thursday night, these parents had to have gotten a sitter to be there, and stayed until the very end to hug me.
The delight at seeing my people, especially while doing something so absurd – well, let’s just say I’m glad I was wearing the mask. It covered my corny and decidedly character-breaking grin, for one. But on top of seeing my friends, I was smiling because the whole thing felt like a moment of integration. That’s what I want to talk about today, before we get into our conversation with Molly Roden Winter, author of More: A Memoir of an Open Marriage.
Molly was on Evolving Love Project recently for an interview, talking with host Abbey and her partner Liam. Abbey, if you’ll recall, was the last mom I interviewed, and I was especially interested in how she responded to folks who judge her non-monogamy because she has a child. Their podcast episode is a great conversation for several reasons, but about 15 minutes in, Molly says something that I completely latch onto:
“True self-actualization happens when you can integrate these parts of yourself. You don’t have to compartmentalize. You don’t have to say, only half of me is showing up for this. And another half will show up for this. Or maybe let’s break it up into tenths: this is my work self, this is my friend self, this is my daughter self. I think women in particular are so trained from such an early age to be performative in these roles, that we don’t ever get the chance to integrate them altogether and get to know who the heck we are.”
Well damn. Guilty as charged, Molly!
I’m not against using the mask of an ‘80s horror movie villain to accelerate self-actualization. Then again, outside of that moment, I’ve struggled often with the sense that I’m a different person depending on the people I’m with. You too?
Molly can relate. She talks about it in More, which I got to read for work last fall. An advance press copy slid into my email, preempting my slide into her DM’s, where I told her how much I adored it. Memoir might fundamentally be an act of integration, putting together the pieces that make one whole, but especially for something like non-monogamy, which – like or not – people are going to judge. So when she and her husband first open up, it’s absolutely a secret, and they especially don’t tell their kids.
More begins with Molly in an airport. She’s getting a call from her son, and when he’s on the line, she can instantly tell something’s wrong. It is: he’s worried, thanks to a computer and an open OkCupid tab. “Are you and Dad in an open marriage?” he asks.
It’s a confession that leads to many more, as Molly ducks and weaves through non-monogamy, all while balancing the spinning plates of parenting and paper grading (she’s a teacher). More hit the NYT bestseller list as soon as it came out, and sparked something of a media firestorm: New York Times profiled Molly and her husband in a big Sunday story, The Cut did a full spread on polyamory, The Atlantic is doomsday about it all, as is The Atlantic’s wont. I invited Molly here to talk about the messy parts of opening up, being a mom as well as a sexual person, and what she thinks of the word “selfless.”
Welcome to Submit Here, Molly! I got to read an advance copy of your book for work and tore through it. It's a memoir of your open marriage and takes us through a span of several years as you and your husband figure out your new relationship style. What I loved most about it, though, is that it’s an imperfect transition: you have feelings, your husband's got feelings, you date some folks who aren't ultimately a great fit. It's real life! And I appreciate that, because it neither glamorizes non-monogamy, nor makes it out to be destructive and untenable. So let's start with this question: how long have you and your husband had an open marriage, and how would you characterize this chapter of life overall?
How long our marriage has been open is a question that’s harder to answer than one would think. I like to say we “dabbled” in non-monogamy (a couple of sex club visits and threesomes) before we got married in 1999, and then opened our marriage more deliberately in 2008. I’d characterize the early years of non-monogamy (2008-2018) as a very bumpy ride, and that’s largely why I chose to focus on those years in my memoir. 2018-2020 marks another chapter in our journey and will be the focus of my next book. The past few years have been not only light on drama but also full of joy. The settled, happy times don’t necessarily make for great literature, but it's been lovely.
Your husband seems like a good candidate for non-monogamy, in that your being with other men was a turn-on for him. But what about you? What was it like for you emotionally, when he started seeing other people?
That is an accurate read. I am definitely NOT sexually turned on by seeing my husband—or even thinking about him--with other people. There’s a term in polyamory called “compersion” which is defined differently depending on who you ask. Some people think of it as a sexual enjoyment of your partner’s sexual enjoyment, but I think of it in a more emotional way, that is, as experiencing joy when your partner is experiencing joy. Attaining this brand of compersion has been a loooooong road for me, but a worthwhile road in my opinion.
I remember at least one scene in the book where your husband is interacting with a guy you've been seeing. How does that go in general? Do you interact with your husband's partners, and vice versa? Or not so much?
My husband has met all of my long-term partners, and I have met his longest-standing partner (he’s been dating the same woman for 8 years). He’s had other shorter-term relationships and I’ve met some but not all of them, just as he has met some but not all of my shorter-term relationships. Meeting each other’s partners is not a requirement for us. Partly, it has to do with the other person’s comfort level. I’m not going to force someone to meet me, or force a partner to meet my husband. And sometimes it also has to do with how well I think they’ll get along. We’re all busy people. In the case of my current boyfriend, who I’ve been dating for over 3 years, it took over a year for him to meet Stewart. But that was largely because I was afraid of how much they’d love each other and then they would want to hang out all the time, and I’d have to take a number to spend time with either of them!
When the general public hears about non-monogamous parents, one of the first responses typically is: "but what about the kids?" So I'd like to unpack that a little, with you. What ABOUT the kids?
Let's take that question seriously for a moment, as the subtext seems to be: "are the parents providing enough love and attention to their children if they're busy providing love and attention for others?" There's lots of data showing contemporary parents spend more time with their children than past generations of parents, despite being busier. (In fact, you're a working mom!) So my question is: do you think that question of concern is fair? If so, why?
I don’t think it’s unfair, per se, in that it’s clearly a real concern a lot of people share. But I think it springs from a couple of assumptions that are worth challenging. The first of these is the idea that love is a scarce resource. Time is a scarce resource—yes—but love, in my experience, is not. But let’s talk about time. One widely held belief in our culture is that mothers should prioritize time with their children over everything else. But the good old “oxygen mask” analogy is worth repeating here. If a mother doesn’t care for herself, she can’t take care of her children. Furthermore, mothers are often expected to lop off pieces of themselves—particularly their sexuality—in order to fit into society’s Mom Suit. It’s a belief I once held, too. And I can’t speak to every mother’s experience, but speaking for myself, I think my kids benefited from my taking time to nurture my own personhood. I have sons, and I think as they have grown into adulthood, they will be better partners because they know their mother is a whole person. They also know that they’re not going to shock me when something real is going on in their lives. I haven’t sanitized myself for them, so they don’t have to sanitize themselves for me. I value the authenticity that has arisen in our relationship because I refused to be a two-dimensional mom from central casting rather than a three-dimensional person.
Another sub-topic with non-monogamous moms that I'm obsessed with: selfishness vs. selflessness. To be clear, it's a false binary -- the idea that moms are selfless, and non-monogamous folks are selfish. But I want to address those (damaging) stereotypes, because I think non-monogamous moms are fresh cultural figures who disrupt both. So let me ask this question: how has your parenting been affected by your non-monogamy journey?
I love this question! I’m on a mission to introduce a new word into the cultural lexicon. Instead of idealizing the “selfless mother” or saying a mother who isn’t selfless must be selfish, I want to talk about the self-ful mother. The mother who knows who she is, and integrates all parts of herself without shame. Being selfless isn’t something we should aspire to as mothers. It’s a negation. A void. I try to bring my whole self to my relationships with my children, not a void.
Same question in reverse. How has your non-monogamous life been affected by your status as a mother?
Definitely. But my identity as a mother has also helped me to become clearer about what I want from a partner. In the early days, I avoided talking about my kids with everyone except my husband. But now I feel so differently. If I can’t talk about my kids with you, I can’t date you. They’re too much a part of me. Again, at this stage of my life, it’s all about integration for me.
Let's get back to More. I laughed at scenes of you dating the guy who was a little too poly, lol. Which proves that non-monogamy, just like monogamy itself, looks different on everyone. So what's the style of non-monogamy you currently enjoy?
Yeah, I still tend to shy away from folks who really want me to befriend their other partners or all hang out together. I’ll meet other partners for sure, but I prefer to meet them one-on-one. Maybe that’s just because I find one-on-one interactions to be more meaningful. I’ll never say never, though. Life is long, and preferences change over time!
Lightening round questions!
-Favorite thing about being non-monogamous?
Right now, especially as things are getting a little wild in the early days of the book coming out, I think of my husband and my main boyfriend as two life-boats on either side of me. They’re both very steady, very confident, very capable. And if one isn’t available, the other one is. I feel really lucky to have that double support.
-Favorite thing about being a mom?
Can I say my favorite thing about motherhood is my kids? My boys are just so awesome. Now that they’re out in the world (they’re 21 and 19) they’re doing such interesting things. They’re also both hilarious and sweet. When the four of us spend time together—like on family vacations—I laugh so much.
What advice would you give to someone reading this Q&A right now who is also a parent, also married, and is curious about opening up?
I’d say that opening a marriage is largely about the freedom you’re going to afford one another. In MORE, there’s a scene in my therapist’s office where he gives me some homework. I have to complete three lists of freedoms I want. Filling out your “Freedom to Do” list is a nice way to start. If you and your partner both have “freedom to make out with someone else” on your list, that’s a real conversation starter!
I did a workshop with Elizabeth Gilbert and Rob Bell at the Omega Institute in upstate New York back in June. Rob Bell had this great quote: “Take your stirrings for a test drive.” I love that idea. You can start “opening up” in small ways. Thinking of what those first steps might be is part of the fun.
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Thanks so much Molly, and thanks to everyone who’s reached out to me about this series! You can read all five essays + Q&A’s about non-monogamous moms in my archive.
I’m thinking of sprinkling some other writings into Submit Here while I publish these Q&A’s, mostly because I’m ADD but also because sex world is vast. If you’ve got a personal story or topic to suggest for Submit Here, write me confidentially at my submission page.
For now, let’s talk! Leave a comment below: I’d love to hear what you thought of this one.