I'm allowed to date other women - my partner isn't
'Are you two going to f**k or what?'
This sudden outburst from my friend, though surprising, wasn't unwarranted.
I was on a girls' trip when I met Camille*.
We were thrust together some 6,000 miles away from home and the spark between us was immediate.
There was something electrifying about the way her laugh filled the air, and every time her eyes met mine there was a warmth there that felt both foreign yet familiar.
But it was after spending the evening dancing and laughing over drinks that the space between us slowly seemed to close until, finally, we were kissing under the flashing multicoloured nightclub lights.
From that moment on, I'd felt this unbelievable pull towards her – something that must have been so glaringly obvious, which ultimately led to my friend's outburst.
It was clearly the push we both needed though as, on the last day of the trip, Camille and I slinked off for a private moment.
With thousands of members from all over the world, our vibrant LGBTQ+ WhatsApp channel is a hub for all the latest news and important issues that face the LGBTQ+ community.
Simply click on this link, select 'Join Chat' and you're in! Don't forget to turn on notifications!
But as her soft and inviting lips met mine again, a thought kept circling in my mind: 'This doesn't take anything away from my relationship with James.'
I've been with James, my 63-year-old boyfriend, for five years now, and while we're deeply committed to each other, we're also in what is known as a hetero-monogamous relationship.
While the technical definition of hetero-monogamy is a man and woman in an exclusive relationship, the way I'm using it is slightly different.
Essentially, a couple agrees to be monogamous with each other when it comes to people of their partner's gender, but they remain open to sexual relationships with the other genders if one or both partners are bisexual or queer.
I am only in a relationship with one person – a man – but I am allowed to sleep with women. James is straight and exclusively with me. I, on the other hand, am bisexual, and so can still date and occasionally sleep with women.
It's a way of honouring my sexuality without feeling like I have to suppress a part of myself.
I was about 12, in my final year of primary school, when I realised I felt attracted to women. My first kiss was with a friend, and I knew then that my feelings toward women were more than just admiration. By the time I was 13, I had learned the term 'bisexual,' and it resonated with me.
As a teenager, I dated both men and women, and there were times when I had both a boyfriend and a girlfriend who were aware of each other. However it wasn't until my mid-twenties that I fully embraced my bisexuality and stopped trying to fit myself into neat categories. I wanted to explore.
So, I went on Tinder, I had multiple dates, attended queer events, and explored casual or short-term relationships with women. During this time, I was also working as a sex worker, seeing male clients, which I found personally fulfilling.
But whenever I ended up in a monogamous relationship with a man or a woman, I often felt like my attraction to other men or women became like this unsaid, unacknowledged thing. It ended up creating an inner conflict for me.
It felt like I was constantly navigating a tension between the desire for monogamy in certain aspects of my relationship and the need for freedom to express my sexuality more fully.
Naturally, that meant I usually reached a point where I couldn't maintain a monogamous relationship anymore – mainly with men – as I had this quiet yearning that was growing.
I sometimes found myself falling for a woman outside of the relationship. At that point it was better to be single.
So, after James and I met online when I was 24 and seeking a sugar daddy, I knew I needed to have an open conversation with him about my sexuality early on.
For a while I was nervous to bring it up as I was unsure of how he'd react, and we'd actually been seeing each other a few weeks before I finally found the courage to do so.
I remember sitting with James, trying to figure out what being in a relationship would mean for us. I said, 'Something that's holding me back from entering an exclusive relationship with you is that I don't want to stop dating women.' I paused, then added, 'And if pursuing that is a dealbreaker for being with me, I need to know.'
I felt like my walls were up as I said it, bracing myself for a response that could end things between us. I was prepared for rejection.
James listened carefully, intently digesting this news, and I held my breath for his reaction. But I needn't have worried.
'Well, I can't be your girlfriend, can I?' He said finally.
I felt a huge relief, but I was also a little suspicious. Was it that easy?
He didn't feel threatened, and that acceptance made it easier for me to be fully honest with him about what I wanted in our relationship. A relationship where I could be my authentic self through romantic and sexual expression.
Since then, we've had a dynamic that works for both of us.
While we're in a monogamous relationship in many ways – meaning neither of us dates or sleeps with other men (or women, in James's case) – I am free to explore my attraction to women as I please.
There are no set rules or boundaries when it comes to dating women, but we do maintain open communication. For example, I'll tell him if I'm seeing someone new, but we don't dive into the details.
It's a balance of respect and trust, and it hasn't caused any issues between us. In fact, I think it's brought us closer because we've built our relationship on mutual understanding.
As for how often I date or sleep with women, it varies. Sometimes I'll go on a few dates over a couple of months, and other times there are longer stretches where I don't see anyone.
Like any person who is dating, it's always about what feels natural, not something I plan out or feel compelled to do.
That's why, when I felt that rising attraction to Camille, I didn't deny it.
I didn't feel guilty, nor like I was betraying James. I know our relationship is rock solid, but loving him didn't and doesn't diminish my attraction to women.
They are separate, yet equally valid aspects of who I am.
So our relationship may not be typical, but it works for us.
A hetero-monogamous relationship is not about looking for loopholes in commitment but about creating a relationship that allows both partners to feel fulfilled.
It's crucial that, before you enter this type of agreement, you are open with yourself first – make sure you know what you want and why you want it – and then have an honest conversation with your partner. More Trending
Approach each other with mutual respect and clear communication, and if it doesn't work for you then that's OK too. Every relationship is different.
But I truly believe that, by being true to yourself and finding someone who respects that truth, you can create a relationship that's both secure and embracing, where love and attraction can coexist without having to hide any part of who you are.
*Name has been changed
View More »
This article was first published on January 12, 2025.
Do you have a story you'd like to share? Get in touch by emailing jess.austin@metro.co.uk.
Share your views in the comments below.
MORE: How I stopped feeling insecure when my partner didn't orgasm
MORE: This is the best London neighbourhood to be LGBTQ+ in 2025
MORE: I can be myself in the UK – but now I can't go home
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Metro
9 hours ago
- Metro
I'm allowed to date other women - my partner isn't
'Are you two going to f**k or what?' This sudden outburst from my friend, though surprising, wasn't unwarranted. I was on a girls' trip when I met Camille*. We were thrust together some 6,000 miles away from home and the spark between us was immediate. There was something electrifying about the way her laugh filled the air, and every time her eyes met mine there was a warmth there that felt both foreign yet familiar. But it was after spending the evening dancing and laughing over drinks that the space between us slowly seemed to close until, finally, we were kissing under the flashing multicoloured nightclub lights. From that moment on, I'd felt this unbelievable pull towards her – something that must have been so glaringly obvious, which ultimately led to my friend's outburst. It was clearly the push we both needed though as, on the last day of the trip, Camille and I slinked off for a private moment. With thousands of members from all over the world, our vibrant LGBTQ+ WhatsApp channel is a hub for all the latest news and important issues that face the LGBTQ+ community. Simply click on this link, select 'Join Chat' and you're in! Don't forget to turn on notifications! But as her soft and inviting lips met mine again, a thought kept circling in my mind: 'This doesn't take anything away from my relationship with James.' I've been with James, my 63-year-old boyfriend, for five years now, and while we're deeply committed to each other, we're also in what is known as a hetero-monogamous relationship. While the technical definition of hetero-monogamy is a man and woman in an exclusive relationship, the way I'm using it is slightly different. Essentially, a couple agrees to be monogamous with each other when it comes to people of their partner's gender, but they remain open to sexual relationships with the other genders if one or both partners are bisexual or queer. I am only in a relationship with one person – a man – but I am allowed to sleep with women. James is straight and exclusively with me. I, on the other hand, am bisexual, and so can still date and occasionally sleep with women. It's a way of honouring my sexuality without feeling like I have to suppress a part of myself. I was about 12, in my final year of primary school, when I realised I felt attracted to women. My first kiss was with a friend, and I knew then that my feelings toward women were more than just admiration. By the time I was 13, I had learned the term 'bisexual,' and it resonated with me. As a teenager, I dated both men and women, and there were times when I had both a boyfriend and a girlfriend who were aware of each other. However it wasn't until my mid-twenties that I fully embraced my bisexuality and stopped trying to fit myself into neat categories. I wanted to explore. So, I went on Tinder, I had multiple dates, attended queer events, and explored casual or short-term relationships with women. During this time, I was also working as a sex worker, seeing male clients, which I found personally fulfilling. But whenever I ended up in a monogamous relationship with a man or a woman, I often felt like my attraction to other men or women became like this unsaid, unacknowledged thing. It ended up creating an inner conflict for me. It felt like I was constantly navigating a tension between the desire for monogamy in certain aspects of my relationship and the need for freedom to express my sexuality more fully. Naturally, that meant I usually reached a point where I couldn't maintain a monogamous relationship anymore – mainly with men – as I had this quiet yearning that was growing. I sometimes found myself falling for a woman outside of the relationship. At that point it was better to be single. So, after James and I met online when I was 24 and seeking a sugar daddy, I knew I needed to have an open conversation with him about my sexuality early on. For a while I was nervous to bring it up as I was unsure of how he'd react, and we'd actually been seeing each other a few weeks before I finally found the courage to do so. I remember sitting with James, trying to figure out what being in a relationship would mean for us. I said, 'Something that's holding me back from entering an exclusive relationship with you is that I don't want to stop dating women.' I paused, then added, 'And if pursuing that is a dealbreaker for being with me, I need to know.' I felt like my walls were up as I said it, bracing myself for a response that could end things between us. I was prepared for rejection. James listened carefully, intently digesting this news, and I held my breath for his reaction. But I needn't have worried. 'Well, I can't be your girlfriend, can I?' He said finally. I felt a huge relief, but I was also a little suspicious. Was it that easy? He didn't feel threatened, and that acceptance made it easier for me to be fully honest with him about what I wanted in our relationship. A relationship where I could be my authentic self through romantic and sexual expression. Since then, we've had a dynamic that works for both of us. While we're in a monogamous relationship in many ways – meaning neither of us dates or sleeps with other men (or women, in James's case) – I am free to explore my attraction to women as I please. There are no set rules or boundaries when it comes to dating women, but we do maintain open communication. For example, I'll tell him if I'm seeing someone new, but we don't dive into the details. It's a balance of respect and trust, and it hasn't caused any issues between us. In fact, I think it's brought us closer because we've built our relationship on mutual understanding. As for how often I date or sleep with women, it varies. Sometimes I'll go on a few dates over a couple of months, and other times there are longer stretches where I don't see anyone. Like any person who is dating, it's always about what feels natural, not something I plan out or feel compelled to do. That's why, when I felt that rising attraction to Camille, I didn't deny it. I didn't feel guilty, nor like I was betraying James. I know our relationship is rock solid, but loving him didn't and doesn't diminish my attraction to women. They are separate, yet equally valid aspects of who I am. So our relationship may not be typical, but it works for us. A hetero-monogamous relationship is not about looking for loopholes in commitment but about creating a relationship that allows both partners to feel fulfilled. It's crucial that, before you enter this type of agreement, you are open with yourself first – make sure you know what you want and why you want it – and then have an honest conversation with your partner. More Trending Approach each other with mutual respect and clear communication, and if it doesn't work for you then that's OK too. Every relationship is different. But I truly believe that, by being true to yourself and finding someone who respects that truth, you can create a relationship that's both secure and embracing, where love and attraction can coexist without having to hide any part of who you are. *Name has been changed View More » This article was first published on January 12, 2025. Do you have a story you'd like to share? Get in touch by emailing Share your views in the comments below. MORE: How I stopped feeling insecure when my partner didn't orgasm MORE: This is the best London neighbourhood to be LGBTQ+ in 2025 MORE: I can be myself in the UK – but now I can't go home
The Guardian
3 days ago
- The Guardian
The shorter man's search for love: ‘One woman cried when I told her how tall I am'
Height is often seen as a dealbreaker when it comes to romance, particularly within heterosexual relationships. But when Tinder recently said that it was trialling a feature that allows some premium users to filter potential matches by height, it quickly proved controversial. 'Oh God. They added a height filter,' lamented one Reddit thread, while an X user claimed: 'It's over for short men.' 'I've experimented with not putting my height on my dating profile, or lying about it just to see, and the number of likes I get shoots up massively,' says Stuart, who is in his 50s and from the Midlands. 'I know I get screened out by the majority of women from the off.' At 5ft 7in (170cm), Stuart is just two inches below the UK and US male average height of 5ft 9in, but a height filter would probably prevent him from receiving as many matches. Since height is such a sticking point, it's no surprise that some apps, including Bumble and Hinge, already allow users to filter by this metric. A recent YouGov poll found that most Britons think being able to filter by height is acceptable; it was least popular with under-30s, of whom 36% were not in favour of height filters, compared with 26% of the wider public. (A common counter-argument is that, if users can filter by height, they should also be able to filter by weight – something that the same survey found 51% of men supported, compared with 36% of women.) Tinder has been quick to point out that height is a paid preference feature being trialled in select markets, not including the UK. It is also not a hard filter; profiles that don't match the selected height criteria will not be blocked outright. A spokesperson said: 'This is part of a broader effort to help people connect more intentionally on Tinder.' The app has gained a reputation for initiating hook-ups, rather than relationships. 'I've not used Tinder, but I have paid once to filter for height on Hinge,' says one Guardian reader who wishes to remain anonymous. 'I am a tall woman – 6ft without shoes – and dating is a challenge, because I am only attracted to men who are taller than me. This is not a question of vanity, or of wanting to be seen with a man who is more alpha or impressive … holding hands with and hugging a shorter man feels like I'm being affectionate with a child. It makes me feel enormous, even though I have a slim figure and am confident in my appearance.' Like many of those who cite height as a prerequisite, she has faced pressure from family and friends to loosen her requirements – someone shorter, they tell her, may be better able to meet her needs. 'But attraction is a need – and it seems it is only possible for me with men who are over 6ft.' Jo, 33, who is 5ft 10in and from Northern Ireland, is also 'most comfortable' with partners who are 6ft and above. 'While I've had a deeply meaningful relationship with someone shorter than me, I realised over time that I didn't enjoy the physical dynamic of feeling like I was towering over my partner,' she says. 'It affected how I felt in my own body, particularly around feeling 'large', which in turn affected my confidence.' In 2022, a former product manager at Bumble claimed that most women on the platform set a 6ft minimum for men – a statistic Bumble said was inaccurate – which would limit their dating pool to about 15% of the population. According to the dating app Badoo, the top keyword for men to get matches was '6ft' (perhaps surprisingly, for women, it was 'love'). Of course, as with much of the information provided in dating profiles, there is no guarantee the height given will be accurate. In 2010, OkCupid said its research showed that most men inflated their height by two inches. In 2019, Tinder made an April Fools' joke about the launch of a 'height verification' feature, to try to prevent such exaggerations. 'Height and strength are generally associated with dominance and power,' says Sandhya Bhattacharya, a relationship therapist. 'Having both predicates a greater disposition towards endurance and survival.' Research has confirmed the idea that taller men are seen as having an advantage when it comes to social status, access to resources and heritable fitness. In Bhattacharya's experience, this holds across most cultures, although genetic predisposition to attributes such as height and strength can vary globally. 'Unconsciously perhaps, we are re-enacting biological preferences.' Anna Machin, an anthropologist and the author of Why We Love: The Definitive Guide to Our Most Fundamental Need, agrees that the search for a taller man is partly down to an 'evolutionary drive'. But, she says, studies on non-western populations have found variable outcomes. Within the Tsimané people of the Bolivian Amazon, for example, 'while men prefer the male to be taller, the women are not bothered'. This implies that there is 'a major cultural element to our western preference for men to be taller', says Machin. In 2022, 'short king spring' trended on TikTok, although the moment was short-lived. While some Guardian readers apportion blame to 'TV, films and (especially) romantic novels' for the notion that a man must be tall to be attractive, a number of mixed-height celebrity relationships subvert preconceptions about height: Zendaya (5ft 10in) and Tom Holland (5 ft 8in); Sophie Dahl (about 6ft) and Jamie Cullum (reportedly 5ft 4in); and, until recently, Sophie Turner (5ft 9in) and Joe Jonas (5ft 7in), among others. Yet heightism remains so entrenched when it comes to dating that some men have taken to wearing heel lifts – shoe inserts that boost height by as much as six inches – or elevator shoes; Tom Cruise (reportedly 5ft 7in) and Ron DeSantis, who says he is 5ft 11in, are both thought to be fans. But while heterosexual women may place the greatest importance on their partner's height, filters could benefit men too. Research has shown that most men prefer to be a little taller than their female partners and that satisfaction with their partner's height can lead men to feel greater satisfaction with their own height – more so than with women. 'I've made peace with the fact that, statistically, I'm very unlikely to find someone shorter than me,' says Michael, 31, who is 5ft 2in and from Hampshire. He thinks it's reasonable for women to want to date someone taller, but believes that being able to filter by height when using a dating app is a bad idea. 'Even the most generous, inclusive person is unlikely to select the whole range that's offered, even if they don't care about it or would be willing to look past it for the right person,' he says. 'It excludes anyone at the extremes by default.' He has had mixed dating experiences in relation to his height. 'About half of the women either weren't bothered by it or were willing to look past it,' he says. 'Most of the other half ghosted me as soon as they learned about it. One woman, whom I'd gotten to know quite well, said my height was shocking when I told her on a phone call, then cried for half an hour. She turned out to be 5ft 8in.' Height may not play such a pivotal role in attraction when it comes to gay relationships. A 2014 study of queer men found that most preferred a partner slightly taller than themselves, although these preferences were modulated by sexual role. Elsewhere, other studies have found that, on average, gay men and women preferred partners with body heights that were equal to their own. 'For most of high school and college, I felt ugly and unwanted, in large part because of comments I heard from straight women about short men being undesirable,' says Charles, 26, who is 5ft 6in and from San Francisco, California. 'In my senior year of college, I came out as bisexual and started dating men. I was shocked by how attractive queer men found me. Even those who had a preference for height were generally less strict about it than the women I'd been around. So I date in queer spaces, where I feel more valued.' Height has become such a bone of contention on dating apps that some users have taken to addressing it outright. Taller-than-average women can often be found to quip that they are 'probably taller than you' within their profile bios, while so many men list their height followed by the phrase 'because apparently that matters' that it has become a cliche. Away from the apps, the 6ft fixation seems to be less of a hard‑and-fast boundary when meeting by chance. 'I've worked with couples where there is a significant height difference and it makes no difference to their physical, emotional or sexual compatibility,' says Bhattacharya. 'Ultimately, the couple 'fit' well because they choose to be respectful, engaged and invested in the relationship.' Machin says 'anything that focuses people down so closely on one attribute is detrimental'. A list of checkpoints, she says, is not the best way to choose a partner. 'Ultimately, in long-term relationships, it is who someone is at their core – their beliefs, values, personality, creativity, ambitions – that we fall in love with and is the best predictor of compatibility.' Jenny, 40, who is 5ft 10in and from Sacramento, California, believes that prioritising height is a 'remnant of caveman days when you had to rely on someone larger than yourself to protect you and your offspring'. Her husband, whom she met at work, is 5ft 7in – but height, she says, is just a number. 'I'd prefer someone shorter who protects me emotionally and provides psychological safety,' she says. 'I say kill your filters, online and in person – let life surprise you in the best way.' Some people featured in this article responded to a community callout. You can contribute to open callouts here
Daily Mirror
7 days ago
- Daily Mirror
Gardeners urged to put garlic in plant water until October
Putting garlic in some of your plant water can help protect some of your most vulnerable seedlings and plants from some unwelcome guests who are known to enjoy chowing down on them Garlic water might be the solution for some unwelcome guests in your garden this summer, according to experts. Anyone who has ever grown their own veggies - or tried to include the majestic Delphinium in their garden - will know that slugs can be more than a bit of a pain. Certain greenery, particularly seedlings, is to a slug the most delicious meal imaginable and they simply won't hesitate from tucking in. While it can be frustrating to go outside in the morning and see some major holes in your beloved plants - or worse, find them practically destroyed, slugs are not actually termed as pests. This is because they do play a really important role in the ecosystem, and particularly as food for birds, they're essential. This is why gardeners across the UK are urged not to use things like slug pellets and decimate the population in their green space. It can be something of a balancing act: protecting your new growth, but also letting slugs exist in your garden too. Short of pulling each and every one of the insects off your most vulnerable plants on a rainy evening, it can feel like there are few options. This is where garlic water comes in - adding this tool to your arsenal will seriously put off slugs from making their way over your most prized plants. The best part is this will only cost you the price of a garlic bulb, which is normally between 20 and 30 pence at your local supermarket. Many experts recommend this gardening hack, which as another bonus also means avoiding introducing harsh pesticides into the ecosystem of your garden. However, bear in mind that you should use it sparingly, and only use garlic in the water you will be giving to your most vulnerable thirsty plants - it shouldn't be used throughout the garden indiscriminately, just on young plants, and those with a tender stem. There are a couple of expert-recommended ways you can make your garlic water. Gardener's World advises you pop one litre of water into a pan and bring it to the boil, adding a bulb of garlic and boiling until it's soft. If you want to make more of the solution, you can, but go by the rule of one bulb per litre - so if you're using three litres of water, three bulbs of garlic. Then they advise you take two tablespoons of the solution and dilute into five litres of normal water. Botanist James Wong, writing for The Guardian, recommends a different approach, instead blending a bulb of garlic with one litre of water and then leaving it to soak for at least ten minutes. He explains that Allicin, a compound in garlic, is what puts off slugs, and leaving the blending mixture to soak allows "for the chemical reaction that creates allicin to complete." Once it has soaked, you should then strain the liquid, before using it to water your plants - when James uses this approach, he doesn't dilute it any further, instead spraying it straight on as is. Aim to do your watering with this solution in the evening, and if you have a real trouble spot for slugs, do so "liberally", James advises. However, Gardener's World you should use this solution after rainfall, or generally around once a week.
