Non-monoga-Mummy
From Poly to Single plus cats
When Lily Allen dropped Non Monogamummy, I laughed, and winced. Because underneath the pop sheen, it’s every woman who’s tried to hold it all together the sex, the self, the mothering, the modern love experiment and ended up overextended, over-explaining, and under-nourished. And I see this in so many relationship styles, not just open ones. That impulse to be the mummy, the caretaker, the emotional translator, the one who tries to make everyone comfortable even when she’s quietly burning out. The people-pleasing, the over-extending, the shrinking yourself just to stay in connection.
There are lessons here that go far beyond the open community. Because monogamous relationships could learn a lot from what we’ve already lived and learned in the non-monogamous world, about communication, boundaries, jealousy, pacing, truth-telling, and the courage to say, “I love you, but I’m losing myself.”
Lily’s track might sound like a cheeky ode to open marriage, but listen closely, it’s an anthem for emotional overload. It’s not just about sleeping with other people; it’s about the pressure of being everything to everyone. The ultimate multitasking modern person, lover, therapist, scheduler, peacekeeper, and (occasionally) sexy corpse under the emotional weight of it all. It’s the line “I’m just trying to be open” that got me. Because that’s exactly what most of us are trying to do, open to love, open to growth, open to experiences. Until “open” becomes “exhausted.”
I’ve lived that experiment. Ethical Non-Monogamy, Consensual Non-Monogamy, polyamory, whatever acronym you choose, I’ve done it. And I loved it, until I didn’t. In hindsight, I didn’t even realise how few boundaries I was holding. I thought I was emotionally evolved, fluent in love languages and Google-calendaring my way through connection. In reality, I was juggling multiple relationships, managing everyone’s feelings poorly, and slowly crumbling under the pressure because I didn’t want either relationship to fail.
But here’s the thing no one tells you: having a boundary is one thing, sticking to it is another. Especially when the other person’s reaction to that boundary hits their inner child. When they act out, panic, withdraw, or demand that you soothe their wounded self and you do. Because it’s easier in the moment to patch the rupture than to hold the space. This is where I failed miserably. I’d rush in to meet them at all costs, even when the cost was my own mental health, my marriage, and my relationships. It takes practice to hold a boundary, to create space to talk through what it brings up, instead of bypassing it for that hit of connection, oxytocin, or dopamine. That chemical rush of “we’re okay again” feels like love, but it’s often self-abandonment in disguise.
Poor boundaries keep chaos in the mix. A clear “I can’t commit to that, I’m afraid” is far sexier than emotional martyrdom. Safe is sexy. Calm is erotic. Clarity is a kink.
Essentially, I was in two relationships that both wanted more exclusivity, not necessarily sexually, but emotionally. I was killing myself trying to hold it all together. I see this a lot with clients caught in extramarital affairs: falling in love with someone new while desperately trying to hold the other relationship together and not get caught. It’s a nervous-system car crash, intoxicating, confusing, painful. You’re high on dopamine and fear of being caught out.
I’m not poly now. I’m single. But the ethics of those years still guide me. As Lily says, “I’m just trying to be open.” And that’s exactly it. Non-monogamy taught me how to communicate before assuming, to name desire without shame, to understand that honesty isn’t the same as exclusivity. Now, even as a so-called “single” woman dating in London, I still date with the same transparency.
Let’s get one thing clear: dating a therapist isn’t for everyone. But for those who can handle the clarity, who can provide consistency and no, that doesn’t mean endless texting and love-bombing and who enjoy their own lives, friendships, and freedom? What’s not to like? I don’t hide the fact that I like dating, IRL and online. I enjoy meeting people, feeling connection, and seeing what aligns. But I don’t owe anyone a spreadsheet of who I’m seeing or when.
I like open-minded people with their own networks, passions, and lives. I’m big on quality time over quantity of time. Life is full, mothering, private practice, friends, staying well, so dating has to earn its place in my diary. My entry point is low: an hour for a matcha, a walk, a chat. Check the vibe, the alignment, the ease. Second date? That’s where I lean into depth, real conversation, genuine curiosity, and if the energy’s right, a slow meeting of the body. Polyamory taught me that sensuality and sexuality can coexist. That aftercare matters. That the full-body ritual is as much about the safety to stay as it is about the permission to play. I want the girlfriend experience — even if I’m the girlfriend for one night.
I choose lovers based on connection, openness, transparency, and emotional intelligence. And let’s be clear: that has zero correlation to biological age. The young tings are leading the way, consent-forward, emotionally literate, unafraid to check in after.
I’ve done my time in the emotional trenches, the carer, the negotiator, the safe pair of hands. But I’m done mothering dynamics that drain me. My new love language is mutual responsibility. I don’t want to be the emotional scaffolding holding everyone else up, I want to stand besides people who already stand tall. So now I practice open dating, but with closed loops. Clear communication. Intentional pacing. Mutual care. London dating is wild, but it’s also a masterclass in discernment. I listen not just to what’s said, but to what’s not being said. A strong filter, a polite “thanks but not aligned,” and the ability to move with clarity, care, and kindness.
Maybe being “open” now isn’t about multiple partners, but multiple truths. I can want depth and space. Consistency and independence. Freedom and presence. Lily Allen’s Non Monogamummy might sound like a pop wink, but for those of us who’ve lived it, it’s a mirror. A reminder that openness doesn’t necessarily mean more people, sometimes it means more honesty. More embodiment. More awareness. And maybe, most radically of all less mothering, more meeting.
If you’re navigating something open, closed, undefined or a little secret and it feels sticky message me for a free intro call. We’ll untangle what’s really going on beneath the surface and bring you back to clarity, calm, and connection
Tips for Conscious Dating
Start low and slow. Matcha, not martinis, sober pace reveals alignment.
Check your nervous system, not just your messages.
Transparency over performance. Say what you mean; mean what you say.
Don’t outsource your excitement. Keep your own life full.
Ask for what you want, early. Clarity is sexy.
Consent isn’t just for sex, it’s for emotional bandwidth too- how frequent? How intense?
Let curiosity replace judgment. You learn more that way.
Know your yes, know your no, and hold both without apology.
Play, but don’t perform. Authenticity trumps aesthetics.
Aftercare isn’t optional. Even casual intimacy deserves kindness.