Why Gen Z has fallen back in love with monogamy

Why be monogamous? In 2006, Belgian psychotherapist Esther Perel put forward this question in her book Mating In Captivity. Why, when we have reimagined so many of the traditional structures that govern sex, identity and kinship – when we have domestic partnerships and divorces, gay marriages and trans marriages, single parents and adoptive parents – are we so steadfast in our commitment to sexual exclusivity? With so many marriages ending in divorce (about 40 to 42% in the UK) and horror stories about adulterous partners and office affairs ricocheting throughout friendship groups, why are we still so wedded to the cultural script we’ve inherited about love?

A lot has changed in the twenty years since Mating in Captivity’s publication, when, according to Perel, only the likes of “movie stars, aging hippies, swingers,” were experimenting with alternatives to monogamy. Since 2019, at least five UK dating apps have launched catering to ‘ethical non-monogamy’, a term that originated in the 1970s to describe multiple romantic or sexual connections who have all consented to the arrangement. Feeld, the kink-centred dating app, reported a 966% growth in members who were looking for polyamory or ethical non-monogamy since the launch of its ‘paired partner’ feature in 2017. And in 2022, Hinge launched a non-monogamous filter in its search function. The language of polyamory has creeped into our cultural lexicon, too, with TV shows like Couple to Throuple and Open House: The Great Sex Experiment bringing conversations about non-normative relationship structures into the mainstream.

But when it comes to Gen Z, the data tells a different story. While Gen Zers are the most likely generation to have sexual fantasies involving kink and BDSM – and the most fluid in terms of sexuality and gender identity (17% identify as LGBTQ+) – according to Kinsey Institute research they’re also the most likely generation to fantastise about monogamy. A 2024 Feeld survey revealed that monogamy was the most preferred relationship type among Gen Z members – a higher proportion than any other age category. And data from Sister Wives, a site for polyamorous dating, found that Gen Z made up just 5.5% of its 18,000 plus users, compared with about 38% of millennials. 

“It’s quite unexpected, because this is a generation that has been very fluid with their identities,” says Dr Debbie Lovell, a psychologist and sex therapist at Central Health London. She said that while Gen Zers have “normalised diverse relationship structures,” her Gen Z clients still veer towards monogamy. Dr Lovell theorises that this shift has something to do with living through a pandemic, financial insecurity, geopolitical tension and the existential threat of AI, creating an overarching feeling of anxiety and uncertainty. “It feels like they’re looking for relationships as a signal of safety and security and predictability and stability in a very chaotic world.”

When and why humans began sticking it out with one partner (or trying to) has been debated by scientists, anthropologists and historians for decades. One analysis of ancient hominid fossils, conducted by researchers at the University of Liverpool in 2011, posited that 4.4 million years ago hominids mated with multiple females, before moving towards monogamy 3.5 million years ago. Other research has theorised that many hunter-gatherer societies were polygynous (with multiple wives) and that the shift towards sexual exclusivity coincided with the rise of agriculture, when residential groups expanded, amping up the risk of sexually transmitted infection.

Monogamy as an ethical ideal is thought to have developed during early the Middle Ages, when the Church took control of marriage law and illegitimate children were excluded from property inheritance. It wasn’t until the 18th century that young people were encouraged to marry one person based on romantic attraction, and the contract shifted from something of a business deal between families towards the more nebulous territory of desire. 

But the question of whether humans are ‘naturally monogamous’ or socially conditioned to be depends on who you ask. In January, Dr. Mark Dyble, an archeology professor at the University of Cambridge, compiled a monogamy league table, examining the rate of full siblings to half-siblings across animal species. His findings revealed that long-term bonding was unusually common in our species. Humans ranked at 66%, drastically topping our closest relatives, such as the mountain gorilla and common chimpanzee, who had respective monogamy rates of 6.2% and 4.1%. The research paper concludes that monogamy “may have played a key role in human social success”. 

Dyble’s data is limited, though. It analyses reproductive outcomes rather than actual sexual behaviour, so it doesn’t factor in things like birth control or LGBTQ+ sex. 

The lived experience of love and sex is harder to quantify, often relying on self-reported data and slippery, subjective constructs. There’s often a gap between a romantic ideal and the messy contradictions of their desires and relationships in real life, as evidenced by the abundance of adultery-facilitating websites and apps where a typical profile sees a ‘married man looking for no-strings adventure’. In 2015, one in five British adults admitted to having had an affair. 

Monogamy certainly doesn’t guarantee a lifetime of fulfillment and security, but for millions of young adults, the dream of committing to one person for the rest of their lives still shines high and bright. As alternatives to monogamy go mainstream, why are Gen Zers consciously choosing romantic exclusivity? What do we gain from these sexual guardrails – as a species and as individuals – and how does it hold us back? Will we one day look back on the structure of monogamy as archaic and stifling? Or is there something unique and expansive and enduring in the singular pursuit of one?

The Observer spoke with nine monogamous couples about why they decided to become exclusive and what keeps them together. We asked them what monogamy feels like; how they’re injecting risk, mystery, surprise and eroticism into the cosy and familiar dynamic of a long term relationship; how they’re keeping traditions alive and how they’re rewriting the rules. Amy finds it hot watching Joss flirt, while Naomi wants her and Grace to have a big queer community who will help raise the kids. Tamuka and Jamie chat about other people they find attractive; Deeya and Nigel shake up a dull week with people-watching walks; Bailey and Charlie find effervescent excitement on thudding dancefloors. Their stories amount to a portrait of monogamy in 2026 – an eroticism that is collectively reinvisioned and redefined within the confines of exclusivity.

Joss, 28, and Amy, 27

Together for a year

Joss

We met on Hinge, but I’d seen Amy around before. On our first date, we sat in a park for an hour or two, drinking warm cider and having super mid chat. I thought Amy was hot, but I didn’t know if we were connecting on an emotional level. A few days later, I stopped by Amy’s on my way home. Amy can be quite mysterious on first meet, but this time it just felt easy and natural. 

Being in love with Amy is cosy and exciting and toasty. We have sex like every second day. It feels like we’re so locked in with each other that I’m so disinterested in other things. The thing about open relationships is: it’s meant to be sexy, but the amount of conversations you have to have is so unsexy. You spend so much time talking about if each other is comfortable having sex with other people, or whatever your specific structure is, that there’s no time to actually do it. We haven’t had a conversation in depth about what monogamy means, but it’s fun being a little bit flirty with other people. You can be a bit cheeky in a conversation and it doesn’t mean that I want to rip your clothes off. 

Amy

Joss came over to mine one night, because I lived like five doors down. When we slept together, it felt like it unlocked a new ability to be more open. We’re so physically compatible, like a well-oiled machine. I realised Joss was quick-witted, smart and funny. I decided early on to be very intentional in my communication and try and be as vulnerable as I could. 

Relationships can be brittle, and I’m someone who values stability. When you try something like non-monogamy, you introduce so many other variables, which just feels scary. I think there’s so many emotional benefits to pushing yourself outside of your comfort zone and sitting with it, but I don’t really have the time or energy for it now. 

I have picked out some things from open relationships in the past and injected it into this monogamous dynamic, though. I’ll tell Joss my boundary, what I’m feeling, and she can do whatever she wants to do. If Joss was to flirt with someone, I wouldn’t be fussed about it. I like seeing Joss be charming. I find it hot. We both have a fuck around and find out philosophy. We’re not really thinking about the future. We don’t have to follow a linear progression, but beneath all that we are committed to each other.

Deeya, 28, and Nigel, 29

Together for just over three years

Deeya

I used to work as a sales assistant at a store in central London. On my 25th birthday, Nigel came in to buy something. We started chatting – mostly me just making fun of him. Meeting in person made it way more special for me. When you’re scrolling on an app, it’s so easy to reject people based on the smallest things. You get rid of people so easily. 

Nigel and I argue about small things, but we cool down easily. We don’t hold grudges, and we have this rule where we don’t ever go to bed if we’re pissed at each other. We were definitely more intimate when we didn’t have our own place. I would say now we have sex twice a week, sometimes once, depending on how busy the schedule is. We keep things exciting by making sure that our weeks are filled with different things, like going to the cinema or going on a walk and people watching. 

Being completely committed to a partner is a very grounding experience. I’ve moved around so much and always felt like nowhere was really my home. Nigel anticipates my needs before I even know them. He doesn’t like to eat breakfast but because I’m a big breakfast person he’ll jump into the kitchen as soon as he gets up. I don’t care where I am, as long as I’m with him. That’s where my home is. 

Nigel

When we met, I’d just gotten out of a relationship and was starting a new job. I was planning on focusing on me and nothing else. I said to the universe: I want to be single. Then the universe brought out the best of the best. Deeya started off with banter, dissing my Android phone. She had this bad girl, cool girl energy, but she was also helpful and kind. Deeya is from Mumbai and I was raised in Zimbabwe, but I went to an Indian school. I’d learnt about the traditions, religion and culture, so there was familiarity in that.

I’ve never been someone who can be with multiple women at one time. Stability has always been my biggest quest. Seeing the opposite of stability growing up, the goal of my life was always to give everything to one person. Our biggest friction point is being able to be a team. My upbringing created this mindset of not wanting to depend on people, because anything can get taken away from you. I lost my brother. I don’t communicate with my father’s side of the family anymore. I’ve lost friends, too. It took two years of molding and understanding each other to realise that you can depend on someone. 

Naomi, 29, and Grace, 28

Together for half a year

Naomi

We met at a singles night at a lesbian bar. We didn’t actually speak to each other – just caught eyes. Three weeks later, we saw each other at a queer quiz night and I followed her into the toilet. When we started dating, the way Grace talked about relationships was completely different to what I’d had with anyone in the last two years in London. People are very nonchalant, whereas I’m quite an intense person, and so is Grace. We both want traditional things in our future, like children. It’s one of the things we connected over early on, because it can be hard to find people in the queer community who want those more traditional things. 

We’ve got very different schedules. I’m nine till five. She’s five till 11. But it actually means we really make the most of our time together. Whenever we get to see each other, we have sex. As a queer person, you’re way more open to non traditional relationship structures. I’ve got loads of non monogamous friends in the queer community. But right now, being monogamous and building something just with Grace feels right. We’ll do it the way we want to do it, though. A big queer community will help bring up the kids.

Grace

The night I met Naomi my nervous system felt so calm, which it isn’t usually. People think falling in love is all fireworks, but with Naomi it felt very gradual. As soon as I met her, my energy felt relaxed. I knew very early on how I felt about Naomi, but I don’t think we spoke about exclusivity for a while. I have a three month rule before getting into a relationship. You have to see someone’s shades. 

I’d say we have sex two or three times a week – sometimes more. We both feel very safe with each other and are comfortable trying new things. With a lot of queer relationships, you get people asking: “Who’s the man and who’s the woman.” We definitely give and take in all different ways. 

Naomi and I are probably quite old fashioned. We’re both romantics. My parents have been together for years and years and years, and growing up, that’s all I ever wanted. I definitely do emotions in quite a big way. In five years, we don’t know how we’ll feel about opening up our relationship, but right now, I think it works for us. I enjoy being able to give someone my 100% and it’s reciprocated. 

Bailey, 24, and Charlie, 27

Together just over four years

Bailey

I was going to be studying in London in Spring 2022. A few months before I arrived from the US, I put my Hinge pin here to see who’s around. My first date with Charlie was on Valentine’s day. We went to the John Snow in Soho. I still didn’t really understand pub culture, so I ordered a strawberry daiquiri. I instantly felt safe with Charlie. We took things quite slow, which I wasn’t used to. It made me feel good to know that someone wanted to take the time to get to know me outside of sex.

A few weeks after our first date, we got black out drunk at Charlie’s friends party. We were chain smoking cigarettes and Charlie asked me whether I wanted to be exclusive with him. I was overwhelmed because I’d never really been in a long term relationship. I told him: “I can’t do this right now.” A week later, he took me on a really nice date and asked me to be exclusive again. I said no. It wasn’t that I wanted to date other people, I was just scared of vulnerability. It felt like a lot of things were moving fast, and I’m quite a guarded person.

I asked Charlie to be my boyfriend a few weeks later. I figured that he wasn’t going to ask me a third time. I really wanted to make it work. I want to pour myself and my energy into one person. At the beginning of our relationship, I was scared that because Charlie isn’t Black, he wouldn’t understand that my hair changes. What if he didn’t like me with my natural hair? Now Charlie helps me take my braids out and it’s one of the most intimate experiences we have together. It’s a whole process, an eight hour situation, and it’s not something I’ve really experienced with anyone else I’ve dated. Being with a partner who helps me transform, who helps me change seasons makes me feel safe.

Charlie

I had to get Bailey on a date as soon as she arrived in London. I knew the time was ticking and that I was probably not the only man on her Hinge register. I wanted to have the best first date that I’ve ever pulled off, so I rocked up with white daffodils. After the first date, Bailey said, “let’s go back to your place.” I told her that I wanted to take things really slowly, because I didn’t want to rush the forming of this connection. We came back to mine and just cuddled all night. After she left, I told my flatmate: “This can’t go wrong. I can’t mess this up.” I was well aware that people in London date multiple people at once, but I wanted to date Bailey and no one else. 

Music is a cornerstone of our relationship. I remember the first time we properly danced in Berlin together, I thought: I would like to be with this person forever. A lot of the spaces that we inhabit are sex positive spaces. People often ask us if we’re open. The answer is no. Monogamous relationships become toxic when there’s lots of insecurity about what their partner is doing. But we’ve built crazy trust. Unlike our parents’ generation, we’ve chosen this path. We’re our own people. We’re together in the way we want to be. The most intimate experience I have with Bailey is helping her take out her braids, which feels like being let into a really private moment. It symbolises what it is to have a partner – providing support in a time of vulnerability. 

Georgia, 25, and Jacob, 27

Together for five and a half years

Jacob

We were set up on a blind date. I remember being surprised how easy it was to talk to Georgia, how funny she was. We went on five or six dates and then it kind of fizzled. I had some leftover feelings for someone else. But we were in the same friend group, so I started to get to know Georgia in a more casual way. I realised that if I walked into a crowded room, she was the person I’d want to talk to.

We started dating, but after four or five months we broke up. I was filled with regret. I thought to myself: if I’m gonna go crawling back to her again, I’ve got to mean it. I decided that I was all in. I was ready for this relationship, and I was ready to make sacrifices for it. After we got married, we’d kiss each other all the waiting for confirmation time, but quick pecks. Recently, we’ve been kissing less often, but for at least sex seconds. It’s been more meaningful and there’s more connection. It took some time to figure out how to work through conflict. I used to worry that if I brought something up that was bothering me, we might break up, or we’d feel less close. But that’s one of the benefits of being married: no matter the conflict, we’re both committed to figuring it out (within reason).

Georgia

We met in the United States, where I was doing my undergraduate degree. A friend texted me one evening, and was like: “Hey are you single? I want to set you up with my friend.” She sent me Jacob’s photo and I immediately said yes. She said that he was liberal, which was pretty hard to find in the part of the United States that we were in.

Jacob wasn’t as interested in me as I was in him, which sucked. We had the same friends, so it was kind of awkward between us. It was on again, off again for a bit – a lot of breaking up and then Jacob crawling back. I just felt like I was being messed around. Eventually I decided that I didn’t want to not do something just because I was scared. It was worth taking the risk of getting my feelings hurt again. 

I feel most connected to Jacob at bedtime. I’ll be really sleepy, but I just keep staying up, because I want to talk to him about everything. There’s a level of intimacy that comes with exclusivity. We probably have sex once a week. It can feel intimidating to initiate sex, especially if the other person’s not feeling it, so we’ve come up with a neutral term to make it less scary. We’d be like: “Hey do you think the blinds need dusting?” or “the blinds look a little dusty.” It makes it sound like a chore, but it feels better to have that physical connection regularly to take the pressure off of it. 

Holly, 23, and Chris, 23

Together four years

Chris

The first time we met, Holly came to our flat for pre-drinks. Straight away, I thought: she’s quite fit. We started bumping into each other more often, like at the library.

Then we went on a double date. Holly is always up for doing stuff. No one else I’ve ever seen was that up for having fun. Holly made it clear from the get-go that she was moving to Thailand for a year. At the time, I couldn’t afford to fly out to see her. We decided to park it and didn’t speak to each other for nine months. As much as it was rubbish, it was beneficial for our relationship, because we didn’t have to fight through long distance. As soon as she came back, it was back to normal.

When we were at university, we had a lot more sex. Now it feels more like a treat. We live about an hour and a half away from each other, so we see each other probably once a week at best. No part of me wants to have an open relationship. The idea of another person being involved in our relationship feels really weird. Our sex life isn’t the same as it was four years ago. It’s constantly changing and evolving. I also rely on Holly for emotional support and comfort. I wouldn’t want to talk to some of my mates about the same topics. Either I don’t trust them enough or they’re a bad bloke and I don’t want their opinion.

Holly 

One of my best friends was living in the same block as Chris at uni. I remember seeing him at a pre-drinks and thinking that it was a shame I didn’t get to talk to him. I liked the way he looked and I found him really funny. We started seeing each other, but I always knew it wasn’t going to last, because I was moving to Thailand for a year. I wanted to really immerse myself in being in an entirely new place. We parked it there, but I didn’t have any interest in moving on.

This is my first proper relationship. Everything that Chris gives me now is everything that I feel like I would want. I wouldn’t want the level of commitment and attachment that we have compromised by other people. When I’ve spoken to Chris about something I’m upset about, he goes away then comes back with written notes. He makes such an effort – and it has a long lasting effect. Being in love with Chris feels vibrant. I find a lot of comfort and intimacy in the moments where we just get to sit together and watch TV. I don’t have to overthink or worry about anything. Even when we do boring things, I don’t feel bored. I can’t really ever get enough of it. 

Amira, 31, and Ali, 34

Together five and a half years

Amira

I met Ali on Hinge. After a few days of texting, we met at Victoria Park. It was very casual at the beginning. I had it in my mind that I should be single for a while. I kept telling myself: I should be more free. Ali wanted to become a bit more serious. He tried to break up with me. I was super shocked. I didn’t want to stop seeing each other, so I said: “don’t be ridiculous. Let’s just stay together.”

For the first eight months of our relationship, we fought a lot. When we were dating, there were no rules. Exclusivity put certain expectations on our relationship. I got quite jealous. I wanted his attention to be on me most of the time. Over time, we’ve built a lot of trust. Being with Ali is flirty and fun. I don’t yearn for anyone else. We’re intimate with each other, but sex doesn’t happen as frequently as we want it to. When you’re single, you look after yourself a bit more. We need to work on recreating that spark and passion. 

Ali

Amira and I dated for four or five months before we made it exclusive. Amira is smart, independent and caring. I knew I liked her and I’d hinted a few times that I wanted something more. The goal of dating for me was always to find the right person to settle down and build a life with. I wanted to spend more time with Amira, get to know her more, be closer with her. But she kept saying that she wasn’t looking for something serious. I reached a point where I was like: we clearly want different things. Let’s just end it.

Until we had that conversation, I didn’t quite realise the extent of Amira’s feelings for me. My feelings for Amira kept building, even 18 months in. We really pay attention to each other and we laugh a lot. We’re very intimate with each other, but we’ve been quite bad with regular sex for the past year and a half. It’s probably every four or five months. We’re both getting a bit lazy. I’ve been quite stressed with work so I’ve not been as present as I want to be.

Tamuka, 23, and Jamie, 26

Together three and a half years

Tamuka

Jamie and I started talking on Bumble. I was so nervous on our first date. Afterwards, I told him: “I know tonight’s date didn’t go too well, but you have to go on a minimum of three dates with me before you can say no.” We became exclusive three weeks later. I kept dropping hints for Jamie to ask me to be his girlfriend. I’ve since learned that because of Jamie’s autism, I need to be very explicit about what I want. 

Up until I met Jamie, I thought I was a lesbian. I had gone through this whole process where I was coming to terms with my sexual identity in Zimbabwe, a country where it was illegal to be queer, and then coming here and being like: Oh, maybe I do like men? Jamie challenged everything that I thought I knew about men – or anybody. I remember there was a day where I woke up and he’d made me a coffee and brought me my book from downstairs, then made us breakfast. I thought: this is what love feels like. 

Sometimes Jamie and I are too independent. We’re very social people, so sometimes when it’s just us two, the energy fizzles. Recently, it’s gotten better, because we’ve both been really honest with each other. We realised that the way that we experience and initiate arousal is very different. Sex doesn’t always have to be penetrative. There are so many ways to enjoy intimacy that are just as important. We’re open about attraction to other people. Sometimes that actually creates arousal for us. But I don’t think I could mentally and emotionally balance multiple partners. 

Jamie

I was really attracted to Tamuka’s confidence. It felt refreshing to have conversations with someone that has a different point of view. We ended up going on a date a couple of weeks later. We got drinks, then went for a romantic meal: McDonald’s at Liverpool Street. At the start, I found it really hard being vulnerable and open. I was trying to protect myself, and I tried to pull away a couple of times. Tamuka is from Zimbabwe, so I thought: Will she want to stay here? Will she want to build a future with me? We had a very open and honest conversation about the future and I think that loosened a barrier. I built love very quickly after that. 

My favorite thing about us is that we’re so different. We contrast in everything. Where we’re from. Our skin colour. Tamuka is a sensitive soul and treats everyone with kindness. I can be cutthroat and don’t always read the empathy cues. Recently, we’ve had to have some hard conversations. I can be very non-emotionally intimate and Tamuka has had challenges with physical intimacy. It’s a big minefield, and I think we’re still figuring it out. We try and connect on an emotional basis at least five times a week, and then sexually about once every 10 days. We’re going to try couple’s therapy to understand each other better in an intimate capacity. I don’t think being open wouldn’t work for my brain. I find it overwhelming when there’s more than three people in the room – let alone the idea of juggling with more than one person’s emotions.

Lola, 25, and Arthur, 24

Together four and a half years

Arthur

We met in the second year of uni at a pre-drinks at Lola’s house. As soon as we met we had a bit of a crush on each other. I hadn’t met anyone as bubbly as Lola. But I’d just recently gotten out of a four year relationship. A part of me was annoyed that I’d met Lola so soon after, because it was too good to give up. Things started getting more serious quite quickly. Then one night, I was out with some of my friends and I got with a girl. I freaked out and went back to Lola’s and told her what happened. I said it didn’t feel right, that I didn’t really want to see anyone else. 

We’re currently long distance. I’m in Newcastle. Lola is in Manchester. We try and see each other twice a month. A big part of why I find it so easy with Lola is because we both value time with our friends, so being together doesn’t feel super isolating. I think that’s how I felt in my last relationship. I wouldn’t want to be intimate with someone else right now, because what Lola and I have is so special. It wouldn’t give me anything positive that I don’t have from her.

Lola

I knew I fancied Arthur but I was kind of seeing another guy. I needed to wrap that up before anything happened. Arthur and I didn’t have each other’s numbers but we would bump into each other all the time. Both of us knew that the other one was attracted to each other, so it would be fun to chat. I wasn’t used to interacting with boys who were so easy to understand. 

A couple of weeks after we first met, Arthur had a party. I remember saying to my housemate: “I’ll kiss him, but nothing else.” We immediately slept together. Because we’d gotten so drunk together so frequently within a few weeks of knowing each other, we steamrolled past the dating stage. Arthur would come round to my house all the time. We would lie in bed and listen to music. I could feel myself almost unwillingly unravel. I felt so held around him. We don’t see each other that frequently which keeps things inherently exciting. Continually choosing each other in a time where you could just hop on Hinge and go on a date makes our relationship feel more sacred. 

Interviews have been condensed for clarity and length. Some names have been changed