There’s something that’s been bugging me for a while: how did open relationships become the sacred cow of queer culture—especially among gay men?
I’m not anti-sex. Or anti-freedom. I just don’t buy the idea that sleeping with multiple people automatically makes you radical or anti-patriarchal. It often feels like we’ve traded one tired model, hetero monogamy, for another—just now with more bodies in rotation and a dash of capitalist urgency.
The Market Logic of Love
I was reading this Guardian article about a straight couple who separate, sleep with other people, then rediscover their passion and come back stronger. Enlightened. Renewed. Transcendent. And I thought: isn’t that basically the same plot behind most “modern” queer relationships?
The idea that for love to work, you have to inject variety, movement, competition—a kind of sexual stock market. Like desire can only exist when it’s constantly fed with novelty. Like Burger King is the measure of freedom in North Korea.
What if it’s not freedom at all? What if it’s just another hustle?
Polyamory and Open Relationships, but Make It Neoliberal
Let’s be honest: open relationships are hard. Especially for gay men. Not because we’re weak or messed up, but because we’re swimming in murky waters.
On one side, we’re rejecting traditional monogamy—an institution historically used to control women, inheritance, sexuality, and bodies. Good. On the other side, we’re applying neoliberal logic to our intimacy: maximise pleasure, avoid boredom at all costs, diversify your sexual portfolio. Swipe, match, repeat. We want everything. Now. Or else? Anxiety. Low self-worth. Grindr. Another scroll.
Are We Just Repackaging Alienation?
Here’s the thing: open relationships aren’t inherently bad. But let’s stop pretending they’re inherently liberating either. If your relationship is just two people orbiting each other while outsourcing affection and orgasms to strangers, is that freedom—or just a different kind of disconnection?
What if we’re not dismantling patriarchy, but just validating capitalism’s favourite myth: that more = better? What if all we’re doing is burning ourselves out emotionally and sexually?
The Cult of the “Cool Couple”
Let’s talk about those couples on apps—»we go together» bios, looking for thirds. At first it sounds mature, honest, evolved. But give it a month, and they’re fucking separately, lying by omission, and performing queerness like a brand.
Most of these encounters aren’t even that satisfying. Not for lack of skill (okay, sometimes), but because there’s no connection, no care. Just quick consumption. If someone doesn’t want you anymore, maybe the answer isn’t outsourcing. Maybe it’s confronting what’s broken. Monogamy and patriarchy aren’t the same thing.
I’m 100% with Adrienne Rich when she said:
“Sexuality without mutual desire or connection is just another form of alienation.”
Amen.
If our radical politics boil down to having a lot of mediocre sex with strangers while calling it freedom, something’s gone very wrong. Let’s stop confusing sexual productivity with liberation.
Let’s dream bigger than “open or closed.” Let’s ask what kind of values we want to build our relationships on. Tenderness. Commitment. Honesty. Mutual care. Room to breathe and grow—together. A space that’s not a prison, but also not a fucking shopping mall. We don’t have to mimic the hetero starter pack of white sheets, two kids, and a Volvo estate. But neither do we need to become the poster children of pink capitalism.
The Real Revolution Is Staying
The market wants us queer, productive, desirable—and lonely.
Always chasing, never enough. But maybe the most radical thing left is to stay, to build and to care. Even if it’s not sexy. And maybe, just maybe, that’s exactly the point.
If you want to read the Spanish version of this text, you can find it here.