I once dated a woman for six months while she was also sleeping with a friend with benefits. When I found out, her explanation was that we had never established exclusivity.
I still hesitate over what to call her. My ex? Someone I dated? Six months feels like a substantial amount of time to spend with a person and then discover that even the label needs clarification.
When I vented to friends and people online, a lot of them gave me the same response: I should have asked. If her having another partner was a deal breaker, I needed to say so early. I couldn’t assume we understood dating the same way just because we were dating each other.
That was difficult to hear while I was already hurt. But I understood the practical point. I had been operating with an expectation we apparently hadn’t agreed on. If I wanted to avoid that situation again, I needed to actually have the conversation.
So now I ask women I’m dating whether they’re seeing or sleeping with anyone else. It’s an uncomfortable question, but leaving it unasked has already worked out badly for me. I’d rather know whether our expectations fit before spending another six months assuming they do.
Sometimes I talk about this, too. And now the response from some people is that it’s none of my business. Asking is intrusive. How dare I want to know?
I don’t know whether those reactions are coming from people who would have blamed me for failing to ask the first time. They may be entirely different groups with entirely different ideas about dating. From where I’m standing, though, the advice arrives as one long, contradictory conversation.
I have a boundary around dating someone who also has casual partners. The other person gets to decide whether that works for her. What I can’t figure out is how we’re supposed to discover the mismatch if bringing it up is itself considered a problem.
I was told to stop assuming and start asking. I started asking. What am I supposed to do with the answer that I shouldn’t have asked?
