I have been married monogamously to a wonderful woman for a decade. She has a chronic illness that often puts her in a lot of pain, and we haven't been able to have children. One day, while out for a nice dinner, we started talking about my sexuality and my desire to join a local group for queer people of colour, and my qualms given that I present as straight and have not experienced homophobia. From discussing my childhood experience of intimacy with another boy, we moved to talking about the regret that I felt over repressing that side of my sexuality. In a few days, she told me of her own accord that we could later on look into having an open marriage. While I now realize that she only meant that I could eventually have sex (no romance or emotional attachments) with other men, I was ecstatic and felt that at last she was accepting me as a polyqueer person.
As time went on, she came to realize that I was interested in people other than men as well, and that I didn't feel able to have sexual relationships without a deep emotional connection and vulnerability. We read parts of The Ethical Slut together, and she asked me to tell me what model of polyamory I would be interested in, and she would think about it.
I recognize now that saying, "We could be polyamorous later" does not mean "We're polyamorous now." But, to my shame, I betrayed her trust with a colleague who was visiting town for a few days. This colleague and I shared a great deal with one another very quickly, and she told me about a bad relationship she had had with a mutual acquaintance, which she had never gotten over. The first mistake I made was to take my colleague to a bar and then to dinner with another colleague, without inviting my wife. Then, as my colleague left town, I asked her if she would take my hand for 2 seconds. I held her hand and said, "I know that you can't control whom you love, but please remember to love yourself. You are worth it." Then we hugged and said goodbye. The next mistake I made was maybe a week later on Messenger: I said to my colleague that I had a bit of a crush on her. She did not reciprocate, but my last mistake was that for weeks, we were chatting together on Messenger about both personal and work things.
A week or two after my colleague had left, I told my wife that I was attracted to her. Over the next month, we spoke quite openly, and felt very good at times, including passionate intimacy. But most of the time I was faced with her pain at this news. For fear of hurting her, or because I (wrongly) didn't think it was important, I didn't tell her about the bar, the hand-holding, or that I had told my colleague I had a crush on her. Big mistake. My wife became especially distraught and angry when she saw from our credit card bill that we had been to a bar, when she found out from a mutual friend whom I'd told about the crush talk, and when she went through my diary and found out about the hand-holding. What was especially hurtful was that I didn't cut off communication with my colleague as soon as my wife suggested it; that took another month, and the intervention of a couple's therapist.
In therapy, I accepted that I had been unfaithful. I apologized. My wife took polyamory off the table, and we formalized a number of boundaries. After feeling that I had the chance to be my true self, I was devastated and depressed, but I knew that it was my own fault, eventually I resolved to repress my desires and concentrate on my career.
A year later, in coronavirus lockdown, I have begun to evaluate whether I have changed, and whether I can go on like this. My wife and I have not talked to each other about our feelings in a year, I have felt neither romantic nor sexual desire for her, and we have not been able to have sex. We've been kind to one another, and I appreciate her qualities of creativity, intelligence, courage and forthrightness all the more. I've seen her through a failed IVF procedure, and I've seen her help members of her family in a remarkable way. I love her, but I don't think I can live in this way. I am afraid, and almost sure, that I will desire other people again, that I won't be able to repress it, and that I will either be unfaithful again, or go through the pain of cutting those people off again and again.
A few days ago, after a failed attempt at intimacy, we started talking again about our situation. Nothing has changed: she is monogamous, and I am polyamorous. We both hold resentment: she because I was unfaithful, and me because she read my diary. But we love each other in our own ways, and I can't bear to hurt her. I have never brought up the possibility of separation, though she is always afraid of it, and she has said to me that if I feel I must be polyamorous, then I should divorce her. Of course I rejected that possibility; she was particularly ill at the time. Today she said to me, "I feel like you're holding me at gunpoint. If we separate, I will never be able to have children (she is in her late 30s)." Her point is that she feels that I have the upper hand, because I don't stand to lose anything major. I think that that is true.
I feel trapped. I'm at a total loss to think through the ethics of this situation. My therapist has so far encouraged me to talk to my wife to see whether she is still monogamous. Clearly she is. My therapist has also warned me that I will need to take the possibility of separation seriously. But I have ended a 7-year relationship before (ironically, after I had been cheated on), and it made me feel awful for hurting my partner. Separating might be wonderful for me, but how could I live with myself after hurting my wife so badly?
Any advice?
As time went on, she came to realize that I was interested in people other than men as well, and that I didn't feel able to have sexual relationships without a deep emotional connection and vulnerability. We read parts of The Ethical Slut together, and she asked me to tell me what model of polyamory I would be interested in, and she would think about it.
I recognize now that saying, "We could be polyamorous later" does not mean "We're polyamorous now." But, to my shame, I betrayed her trust with a colleague who was visiting town for a few days. This colleague and I shared a great deal with one another very quickly, and she told me about a bad relationship she had had with a mutual acquaintance, which she had never gotten over. The first mistake I made was to take my colleague to a bar and then to dinner with another colleague, without inviting my wife. Then, as my colleague left town, I asked her if she would take my hand for 2 seconds. I held her hand and said, "I know that you can't control whom you love, but please remember to love yourself. You are worth it." Then we hugged and said goodbye. The next mistake I made was maybe a week later on Messenger: I said to my colleague that I had a bit of a crush on her. She did not reciprocate, but my last mistake was that for weeks, we were chatting together on Messenger about both personal and work things.
A week or two after my colleague had left, I told my wife that I was attracted to her. Over the next month, we spoke quite openly, and felt very good at times, including passionate intimacy. But most of the time I was faced with her pain at this news. For fear of hurting her, or because I (wrongly) didn't think it was important, I didn't tell her about the bar, the hand-holding, or that I had told my colleague I had a crush on her. Big mistake. My wife became especially distraught and angry when she saw from our credit card bill that we had been to a bar, when she found out from a mutual friend whom I'd told about the crush talk, and when she went through my diary and found out about the hand-holding. What was especially hurtful was that I didn't cut off communication with my colleague as soon as my wife suggested it; that took another month, and the intervention of a couple's therapist.
In therapy, I accepted that I had been unfaithful. I apologized. My wife took polyamory off the table, and we formalized a number of boundaries. After feeling that I had the chance to be my true self, I was devastated and depressed, but I knew that it was my own fault, eventually I resolved to repress my desires and concentrate on my career.
A year later, in coronavirus lockdown, I have begun to evaluate whether I have changed, and whether I can go on like this. My wife and I have not talked to each other about our feelings in a year, I have felt neither romantic nor sexual desire for her, and we have not been able to have sex. We've been kind to one another, and I appreciate her qualities of creativity, intelligence, courage and forthrightness all the more. I've seen her through a failed IVF procedure, and I've seen her help members of her family in a remarkable way. I love her, but I don't think I can live in this way. I am afraid, and almost sure, that I will desire other people again, that I won't be able to repress it, and that I will either be unfaithful again, or go through the pain of cutting those people off again and again.
A few days ago, after a failed attempt at intimacy, we started talking again about our situation. Nothing has changed: she is monogamous, and I am polyamorous. We both hold resentment: she because I was unfaithful, and me because she read my diary. But we love each other in our own ways, and I can't bear to hurt her. I have never brought up the possibility of separation, though she is always afraid of it, and she has said to me that if I feel I must be polyamorous, then I should divorce her. Of course I rejected that possibility; she was particularly ill at the time. Today she said to me, "I feel like you're holding me at gunpoint. If we separate, I will never be able to have children (she is in her late 30s)." Her point is that she feels that I have the upper hand, because I don't stand to lose anything major. I think that that is true.
I feel trapped. I'm at a total loss to think through the ethics of this situation. My therapist has so far encouraged me to talk to my wife to see whether she is still monogamous. Clearly she is. My therapist has also warned me that I will need to take the possibility of separation seriously. But I have ended a 7-year relationship before (ironically, after I had been cheated on), and it made me feel awful for hurting my partner. Separating might be wonderful for me, but how could I live with myself after hurting my wife so badly?
Any advice?