Dear Anna,

I’m a 50-year-old woman. I’ve been married to a woman for almost 14 years, and we’ve been sexless for about 10 of those years. We recently opened up our marriage and I’ve been thoroughly surprised by wanting to be with men for the first time ever. Long story short, I met a man who’s wonderful and sexy and provides all kinds of validation I didn’t know I needed. He’s married too and the ways we can be together are very limited — only at hotels, and not very frequently, two to three times a month.

I want more. He says he wants more too but can’t give me more. It hurts and I understand rationally that the situation isn’t meeting my needs, but I’m not ready or able to walk away from him. I’m also still trying to date other people, though they all pale in comparison. We text every day and he tells me he loves me. I love him too. But it’s not enough and never will be. What can I do? — Hung Up on Reticent Love

Dear HURT,

There’s a story I want to tell you about a farmer and his dog, but first — what a discovery to make at 50, after a decade of no physical intimacy in your marriage! That alone deserves space. Wanting men, wanting to be desired, wanting sex again after years without it — all of those things are huge life shifts, and none of it needs justifying, even if it's disorienting to feel it arrive this late and this suddenly.

OK, now back to the farmer, who’s sitting on a porch with his dog. The dog is lying beside him, whining and whining. A neighbor comes by and asks, “What’s wrong with your dog?”

“He’s lying on a nail,” the farmer says.

“Then why doesn’t he move?”

The farmer looks at him and says, “Because it doesn’t hurt enough.”

I think about that story a lot when people tell me they’re unhappy in a situation they also aren’t ready to leave.

Because sometimes something can hurt like hell and still not hurt enough to do anything about.

You already know the facts here. You want more time with this man. He says he wants more, too, but he can’t offer it. You’re seeing each other a few times a month, mostly in hotel rooms, while texting every day and telling each other you’re in love. You’re trying to date other people, but nobody else measures up.

That last part makes sense, by the way — nobody looks exciting next to someone who's rationed and not very available, because scarcity itself is a hell of a longing drug. That's how intermittent reinforcement works on a nervous system that's been starved for a decade: Your brain is responding to the drip, and it's not necessarily tied to him specifically.

None of that means you’re foolish for staying. You’re clearly getting something from this relationship that matters to you. The sex, the validation, the novelty of discovering this side of yourself at 50, the feeling of being wanted after years in a sexless marriage — all of that can be enormously powerful and intoxicating.

But it’s also costing you. Because you’re in a situation that’s not capable of giving you what you want.

And I think that distinction matters. You don't actually have a problem to solve with Hot Hotel Guy. He has told you what he can offer. You can believe him. Maybe he loves you. Maybe he genuinely wishes he could give you more. Maybe he would love to have a different set of circumstances. But none of that changes the reality that he can’t. That this — what you’re getting right now — is all the relationship can be.

You’re essentially asking an unavailable relationship to become available.

So the question I’d ask isn’t, “How do I stop wanting him?” You probably can’t, at least not on command.

But: What am I willing to do with the fact that this hurts?

One thing that’s interesting about unhappiness is that sadness alone doesn’t often get us moving. We can be sad for years and change nothing! We can become incredibly talented at accommodating our own disappointment.

Anger, on the other hand, is a more action-oriented emotion. There’s a particular kind of anger that makes us stand up and say: Actually, f— this. I don’t want to live like this anymore.

Can you find some of that?

Not anger at this man for having limits. Not anger at yourself for falling in love with him. I mean anger on your own behalf. Anger that you have been living in a marriage without sex for a decade. Anger that you’re getting crumbs of something when you now know you want the whole cake. Anger that you’ve gotten a glimpse of a life that feels exciting and erotic and validating, and then discovered that the person who gave you that glimpse can’t actually build that life with you.

That anger, if you can channel it, can be useful in moving the needle.

And not to switch metaphors on you mid-column (there’s only so far a farmer can take you!), but I wonder if this man is less a destination and more a flashlight. He has illuminated some things you didn't know you were missing. You discovered that you’re attracted to men. You discovered that sexual attention matters to you. You discovered that being desired can feel really damn good. You discovered that you want more than two or three hotel dates a month.

That’s huge! And now that you’ve seen the sliver, it’s time to look at the rest of your life.

You’ve been in a sexless marriage for 10 years. I feel like there’s more to unpack here but since you didn’t mention it specifically being a problem, I’m going to say this and move on: If your marriage is loving and fulfilling in every other way, and if you and your wife have consciously chosen this arrangement and are genuinely happy with it, then great! More power to you.

But if not! If the marriage has become something you’re staying in because it’s easier than confronting what you actually want, I wouldn’t let Hot Hotel Guy distract you from tackling that very important question.

This man may or may not remain in your life, but your own life is the part you need to make decisions about. Some things to think about on that front: If he suddenly became available tomorrow, would you still want the marriage you’re currently in?

And then the harder question: If you knew this was exactly what your romantic and sexual life would look like for the next five years, would you choose it?

Not “Could I tolerate it?” Not “Can I make myself be grateful for what I have?”

Would you choose it?

Because tolerating something and choosing it are very different lives.

Get honest with yourself, too, about whether you're staying with this man because the relationship itself is good, or because he's the first thing that's made you feel wanted in 10 years, and you're terrified that letting go of him means going back to feeling sex-starved and invisible. Those are different problems with different solutions. If it's the former, go in with eyes open, knowing what you'll never get from him. If it's the latter, the real work isn't about him at all — it's about rebuilding a sense of being desirable that isn't contingent on your wife or one married man's limited availability. That might mean therapy, it might mean dating more without measuring everyone against him, it might mean an honest look at what's actually possible in your marriage now that it's open.

You don't have to break up with this dude today. You don't even have to stop seeing him. But if you can’t accept the terms that being with him offers, then what will you do to get up off that nail?

Will you decide what kind of relationship(s) you’re looking for and stop accepting arrangements that are fundamentally incompatible with it?

Will you tell him the truth: I love you. I also want more than you can give me. I don't know what I'm going to do about that yet, but I can't pretend it doesn't matter.

You don't have to wait until you're devastated to make a change. Sometimes the nail doesn't hurt enough to make you jump off the porch. But you can still decide to stand up.

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