Lily Allen’s album shows why open relationships aren’t for us children of divorce

Like me, Lily Allen is a child of divorced parents – it’s no wonder an open relationship didn’t work for her, writes Olivia Petter, it certainly wouldn’t for me

The instructions for this arrangement couldn’t have been clearer: “Be discreet and don’t be blatant. There had to be payment. It had to be with strangers.”

Yet these words aren’t from a guide to open relationships but are lyrics from Lily Allen’s song “Madeline”, one of the most talked about tracks on the musician’s new album, West End Girl.

Inspired by the singer’s relationship with Stranger Things star David Harbour, from whom she separated in 2024 after four years of marriage, the record – which Allen has described as “a mixture of fact and fiction” – charts the central character’s betrayal, deceit, and heartbreak at the hands of a partner who abused an agreement of non-monogamy.

In the songs, Allen alludes to her protagonist’s partner having slept with women she knew, and frequently breaking the rules they had agreed upon for an open relationship she hadn’t particularly wanted in the first place.

‘Who knows what really went down between Allen and Harbour, who hasn’t publicly commented on the album beyond turning off comments on his social networks’ (Getty Images)

Who knows what really went down between Allen and Harbour, who hasn’t publicly commented on the album beyond turning off comments on his social networks. What I do know is that, as a child of divorce like me, Allen was probably never particularly well-suited for an open relationship. I’m convinced that entering into an open relationship is absolutely the worst kind of dynamic for anyone who comes from a broken home.

My parents split up when I was four, and, as an only child, that rendered me a little bit of a single unit. I wasn’t alone, exactly, but I didn’t have the stability that comes from two parents who enjoy being together, whether it’s sitting down to family dinners during the week or travelling together during school holidays. My emotional support system was often fractured and flimsy, characterised by volatility, unpredictability, and the logistical chaos of my dad’s move to the US when I was still very young.

All this means that, for me, the idea of entering into a relationship predicated on uncertainty is absolutely terrifying. Say what you like about ethical non-monogamy and the importance of imposing strict rules around how an open dynamic would work, but there is nothing stable or predictable about any of this. I have friends in open relationships, and the amount of communication, trust, and flexibility required to make it work is inordinate.

What’s more, there’s no boilerplate, which means that, while you create the rules (a good thing), they can also change with time once you discover what works and what doesn’t (a scary thing). You’re constantly having to adjust and temper your boundaries, while also being incredibly tuned in to your needs and those of your partner.

I know it can work successfully, and for some people, this really is an ideal scenario that encourages exploration, freedom, and boundless connection. But given my upbringing, it would never work for me. I need stability, reassurance, trust, and all of the other predictably boring things that come with a traditional monogamous relationship, which my therapist would probably say is because I didn’t have those things growing up. There has to be a feeling of safety, and I don’t think I’d ever be able to really have that in an open dynamic. I’d be constantly questioning, worrying, and panicking. I’m convinced it would send me insane quite quickly.

That’s not to say a monogamous relationship isn’t hard work, too – trust me, I know that it is. But there’s a sense of security in committing to one another that should, hopefully, make all of that hard work feel a little bit easier. At least, that’s the idea.

Of course, romantic relationships never come with complete certainty, regardless of the dynamic at play. Perhaps that’s part of what makes them so exciting, destructive, and alluring, all at the same time. Hence why, even after the most devastating of heartbreak, we dive right back in, full of hope, ready to give it all another go.