I’m a gay man who is ready to start cheating on my boyfriend. We’ve had a wonderful 3.5-year-long relationship full of respect, affection, support, and fun. I love everything about our relationship, and our sex life was great… until he moved in eight months into the relationship. At that point, he lost all interest. I’ve tried everything: asking what I can do differently, being more aggressive, being more passive, suggesting couples therapy, getting angry, crying, and breaking up twice. (Both breakups lasted only a few hours because I honestly don’t want to leave him.) When I bring up an open relationship, he just goes quiet. I’ve moved past most of the anger, frustration, hurt, embarrassment, and sadness. But I won’t accept a life of celibacy. I would like to get some discreet play on the side. My boyfriend is very perceptive, and I’m a bad liar. I don’t want to get caught—but how should the conversation go if (when) I do? I’m leaning toward something like this: “I’m sorry it came to this and I know we agreed on monogamy, and I gave you monogamy for 3.5 years, but part of agreeing to monogamy is the implicit promise to meet your partner’s sexual needs. Everything else about our relationship is wonderful, but we couldn’t fix this one thing, so instead of continuing to push the issue, this is what I decided to do.” Good enough?
Can’t Help Exploring Another Tush
The speech you’re planning to give after you get caught is lovely, CHEAT, but you should give it before you get caught. Tell your boyfriend you love him—you would have to, considering what you’ve put up with for nearly three years—and that you have no desire to leave him. But while your relationship is wonderful in many ways, it’s not sexual in any way. And while you’re willing to settle for a companionate relationship, you’re not willing to settle for a sexless existence.
Rather than being threatened by your occasional, discreet, and safe sexual adventures, CHEAT, your boyfriend should be grateful for them. Because those sexual adventures, and your boyfriend’s acceptance of them, will make it possible for you to stay together. Hopefully he’ll see that the men you’ll be fucking on the side aren’t a threat to your relationship but its salvation.
If your boyfriend can’t see that, if he insists that your relationship remain monogamous and sexless (wouldn’t that technically mean he’s the only person you don’t have sex with?), give breaking up another try. The third time might be the charm.
I’m a woman in a hetero marriage. My husband and I enjoy skimming the Craigslist “casual encounters” section. It’s like people-watching, but NSFW. We recently stumbled on an ad posted by a male friend. The ad was soliciting gay mutual BJ/HJ, with the stipulation that the first one to come (the loser?) gets fucked in the ass by the other (the winner?). Other than the concept of winners and losers during sex, I’ve got no issues. The thing that gnaws at my conscience is this: Our friend is a young guy, bi-curious, and impulsive. Once I got over the giggles of glimpsing a dick pic that was not intended for my eyes, I began to worry about our friend’s risky behavior. Do I say something? I care about this guy, but I don’t want to come off as “mommy” or “creepy.”
Dude’s Extremely Risky Plan Elevates Stress
My first impulse was to tell you to mind your own business—or MYOB, as the late, great Ann Landers used to say (Google her, kids)—because you don’t actually know if your friend is taking foolish risks. He could be using condoms, taking Truvada, and carefully vetting his play partners. But if I spotted a friend’s dick on Craigslist in an ad that left me the least bit concerned for his safety, I would say something. I don’t mind coming off as “mommy” (meddling mommy impulses are a requirement for this gig), and if looking out for your friends is “creepy,” then I’m a creep.