I am a lesbian, and have been in a relationship with the same woman for twelve years, and though we have shared so much good stuff, there has never been a sufficient amount (or at least the right brand) of romance or sex for me. We were never compatible, sex-wise, and part of the issue has been that that’s been OK with my partner, who lacks much of a libido… whereas sex and romance are both extremely important to me. When we initially got together, I did realize that this was an issue, but the good far outweighed the bad, and my needs at that point were very different than they are now, so I rationalized it and then rationalized it again. But my fundamental needs have caught up with me, as they do, and a few years ago I had an affair, which got busted open, and resulted in me and my partner separating (in a fairly dramatic way). I did not want my relationship to end, certainly not like that, so we got back together and worked on rebuilding trust (lots and lots of couple's counseling), but the “sex” (or lack thereof) still fell very flat. There is so much tying us together, including owning a store together, and so there have been countless reasons to make this work. Last year, I met somebody—also in a wrought relationship—and, despite my trying to avoid it, we fell in love. But my new love and I did not want to be unduly unkind to our partners, so we decided to try to deal with the issues in our marriage as much as we could, and keep those issues separate from the fact that one of the reasons our relationships were perhaps doomed to fail was because of our newfound love with each other.

But every time I tried to wrap my head around leaving my primary relationship, I would become frozen with fear and sadness, since there is so much to stay in it for. My partner and I had discussed open relationships, but, after many lengthy discussions, my partner said it wouldn’t work for her. Knowing I was unhappy, she kept asking me what I wanted, and I kept saying "I don't know." Yet I'd continue to fall deeper in love with my new person, still unable to confront my partner with my new truth. Finally, after months (actually, years…) of this loop de loop, my partner has boldly decided that we should live separately and work on “restructuring” who we are as a couple—but neither the words “divorce” nor “separation” have never been uttered. We are taking it one step at a time, but we are now "allowed" to have sexual and romantic relationships with others, as long as we tell each other. (I cannot imagine telling her about my new love.) My partner has an alternate place to stay for now, thanks to friends who are traveling, and we are managing, at least for now, to run our business mostly remotely. Yet I think I’m in some kind of deep denial, and my partner and I continue to talk and text throughout the day. Sometimes I even manage to convince myself that nothing has changed, but in the quiet moments, I realize that nothing will ever be the same.

I can’t figure out for the life of me what I want my primary relationship to become, or what I want it to “restructure” into. Why can't I make a decision and then own that? I’m so very sad at the idea of losing the person I thought was my “life partner,” and I know that the day she finds out about my new love (even though I suspect she knows, on some level)—who is now in the middle of a divorce herself—my partner will be devastated and not want to talk to me. My new love, who I am really passionately in love with, lives far away, and so any relationship we would pursue would require one of us moving. We are open to that, but is it realistic for me, at 42, to just up and leave my life like this? To leave my marriage which works on so many levels for the possibility of a new love, and all the risks that come with that? It’s been posed to me that my new love is simply a catalyst for me to get out of my marriage, but I don’t feel that’s true—I’m completely head over heels crazy about her.

But where does that leave my partner and me? Is it possible that me and my partner could transition into a relationship where we are still family—maybe even the most important people to each other—while I am pursuing this other relationship? Should I stay or should I go?

Feeling Unable(to) Choose Knowledgeably

Sexual compatibility is important. It should be established early, guarded jealously, and sustained continually. And sexual compatibility is absolutely crucial in what is—or in what's supposed to be—a sexually exclusive relationship. I know, FUCK, I know: You realize all of this now, after spending the last twelve years with a woman with whom you never clicked sexually... a relationship you somehow managed to rationalize your way into but can't seem to rationalize your way out of.

So... should you stay or should you go?

You should go, FUCK, as you've stayed too long already—and going will be easier than you think, seeing as you're already gone. Your partner has already moved out and she's already given you permission to move the fuck on. You are "allowed" to have "sexual and romantic relationships with others," FUCK, so long as you inform your soon-to-be-ex about seeing/fucking/romancing someone else. So tell your partner you're seeing someone else and tell her it's more than just sex—and if your wife can't handle that particular truth, if the news precipitates a final and unambiguous breakup, if it causes her to utter the words "divorce” and “separation”, GOOD.

And if the news doesn't prompt her to utter those two magic words, FUCK, utter them yourself.

I might've suggested telling the wife you'd be willing to remain married if you could open the marriage and enter into romantic relationships with others—if you could be poly—but it doesn't sound like you want to be with your current partner anymore, FUCK. It sounds like you're afraid to be without her... and fear is a terrible reason to stay with someone.

So, yeah, restructure your relationship: a friendship, not a marriage; business partners, not life partners; someone's wife, maybe, at some point in the future, but not her wife anymore.