Why Most People Are Terrible at Non-Monogamy(And Why That Doesn’t Mean They Shouldn’t Try)

Non-monogamy is having a moment.

It’s everywhere. Podcasts, dating apps, Instagram therapists, Reddit threads, group chats. It’s often framed as more honest, more evolved, more sexually liberated than monogamy. A kind of relational upgrade.

And yet, most people who try it struggle. Hard.

Not because they’re immoral, or jealous, or “too insecure.” But because they walk into non-monogamy wildly underprepared for what it actually asks of them.

In my work as a sexologist and sex educator, I see this across young adults, men, couples, and people exploring open relationships, swinging, hotwifing, cuckolding, and kink-based dynamics.

People don’t fail at CNM because they want too much sex. They fail because they don’t have the emotional tools to survive the experience they’re chasing.

The Real Problem Isn’t Jealousy

Everyone loves to blame jealousy.

Jealousy becomes the villain, the thing that “shouldn’t exist” if you’re doing non-monogamy properly. That’s nonsense. Jealousy is not a flaw. It’s an emotional signal, and like all signals, it gets messy when people don’t know how to read it.

The real issue is emotional literacy.

Most adults have a shockingly small emotional vocabulary. They can usually name anger. Sometimes sadness. Occasionally anxiety. Beyond that, things blur together. Discomfort becomes accusation. Fear becomes control. Shame turns into defensiveness.

Non-monogamy doesn’t simplify emotional life. It multiplies it.

You’re not just dealing with desire anymore. You’re dealing with attachment fear, comparison, envy, excitement, grief, compersion, rejection sensitivity, sexual insecurity, and old wounds you didn’t even know were still active.

If someone can’t identify what they’re feeling, regulate themselves when activated, and talk about emotions without blaming or collapsing, CNM doesn’t liberate them. It exposes them.

That’s why so many people end up in endless “processing” conversations that go nowhere. Lots of talking, very little emotional integration. Everyone feels raw. No one feels safer.

Fantasy Is Easy. Capacity Is Not.

The second major reason people struggle is what I think of as a fantasy–capacity mismatch.

People are often deeply aroused by the idea of non-monogamy. Watching or imagining a partner with someone else. Sexual novelty without loss. Erotic jealousy. Being chosen again and again. Feeling expansive and uncontained.

Arousal is powerful. But it’s not the same thing as readiness.

You can want something intensely and still not be able to tolerate the emotional reality of it once it’s happening in real time.

I see this constantly. Someone is turned on by cuckolding but unravels when abandonment fear kicks in. A couple fantasises about swinging but doesn’t have the skills to repair after a bad night.

Someone craves openness but panics when they’re no longer the sole emotional centre.

That doesn’t mean the fantasy was wrong or shameful. It means desire moved faster than capacity.

And when people confuse those two things, they tend to push themselves or their partners past what their nervous systems can actually hold.

Where Avoidance and Entitlement Show Up

When emotional literacy is low and capacity is stretched, two patterns often emerge.

The first is avoidance. Using non-monogamy to dodge intimacy, accountability, or relational repair. Framing openness as authenticity when it’s really a way to not sit with discomfort. Saying “this is just who I am” instead of doing the harder work of emotional development.

The second is entitlement, which I see particularly often with men. Expecting access, freedom, or sexual variety without doing the internal labour required to hold those dynamics ethically. Jealousy becomes a partner’s problem. Emotional fallout becomes collateral damage.

These aren’t just personal failings. They’re what happens when complex relationship structures are layered onto undeveloped emotional systems.

When Non-Monogamy Isn’t Working

Here’s the part people don’t like hearing.

If non-monogamy is consistently destabilising, overwhelming, or damaging your sense of self or your relationships, the answer is rarely to push harder.

Struggling doesn’t mean you’re weak. It usually means you’ve hit the edge of your current capacity.

For most people, the most ethical next step is to slow down. Sometimes that means pausing. Sometimes it means simplifying agreements. Sometimes it means stepping out of non-monogamy altogether, at least for now.

Very often, it means getting support. Working with a therapist, counsellor, or coach who understands CNM dynamics and doesn’t treat jealousy, attachment, or fear as personal failures.

There isn’t one correct outcome. Context matters. What matters is not forcing yourself or others to endure ongoing distress in the name of identity, ideology, or sexual aspiration.

Non-Monogamy Isn’t Advanced. It’s Demanding.

One of the most persistent myths in this space is that non-monogamy is automatically more evolved than monogamy.

It isn’t.

Non-monogamy demands more emotional awareness, not less. More communication skills. More responsibility for your inner world. More willingness to sit with discomfort without outsourcing it onto others.

When those capacities are present, CNM can be deeply fulfilling. When they aren’t, it becomes chaotic fast.

If there’s one thing I want people to understand, it’s this: failing at non-monogamy doesn’t mean you shouldn’t want it. It means you’ve found the work you need to do.

And that work matters, whether you stay non-monogamous or not.

I explore these themes regularly on the Super Sex podcast, where we talk honestly about desire, power, jealousy, attachment, and the parts of sex and relationships people usually try to gloss over.

Non-monogamy isn’t about how open your relationship is.

It’s about how well you understand yourself.