'Compassionate cheating' - is there such a thing?

My recent blog post about the choice of ‘compassionate consent’ or ‘compassionate celibacy’ for partners in monogamous relationships where the other doesn’t want any sex, generated a lot of responses. I got several emails asking, “Can a relationship like this ever work long-term?”.

I’ve been thinking back to examples I have seen where a monogamous relationship has survived lovingly, even romantically, for many years without sex, after one partner stopped wanting it. The harsh truth is, it has usually been happening through the other partner ‘cheating’ and not getting caught (or not thinking they’ve been caught - sometimes the first has realised but has chosen to turn a blind eye).

Is this always to be condemned… or is there such a thing as ‘compassionate cheating’?

An observation I can share, from my years as a stripper (hearing the inside truths that men shared about their relationships) and as a coach (hearing the inside truths that clients of all genders share about their relationships ) is this: somebody having sex outside of their ‘monogamous’ relationship, does not automatically correlate to a lack of love, respect or passion for their partner.

I’ve spoken to deeply committed and in-love partners, who are also ‘cheating’. On the flipside I’ve spoken to uncommitted and unloving partners who are ‘faithful’.

I am not condoning lying and deceit, and am a bit hesitant even to write this and put it out this Saturday. But I’m trusting that you, my community, have the sexual intelligence, empathy and curiosity to at least mull over the concept.

Let’s imagine the only thing missing in the relationship for the wanting-sex partner is sexual recognition, validation and pleasure, and their partner is not willing/able to give that. Let’s assume a discussion around ethical non monogamy is either not feasible, or has been shot down. They want the relationship to continue and want their partner (the not-wanting-sex person) to be happy. Their options are compassionate celibacy, or cheating.

What could ‘compassionate cheating’ look like? Over the years I have spoken to people going to great lengths to ensure their extra-marital activities are conducted as safely and discreetly as possible. Maybe it’s by sticking to paid professionals, maybe it’s via hook-up sites dedicated to extra-marital sex, maybe it’s opportunistically but with rules in place to prioritise discretion.

I remember one man who was a regular in the strip pubs in the early 00s – let’s call him Barry. He was forever proudly showing photographs of his family: anniversaries with his beaming wife of 30-plus years, arms around each other; his successful professional grown-up kids at their jobs or with their spouses; his happy healthy little grandkids; four generations hugging and laughing together on family occasions. He had a high-pressured successful career but always found time, it seemed, for family.

Barry also found time for a long-term lover in a mainland European city, who he saw every second month on a ‘business trip’, and for one or two visits to London striptease pubs each week.

Back in the days before lap dancing, there was not much to do between stage shows except sit in the dressing room chatting or reading (this was before smartphones) or sit out front chatting to guys. I enjoyed doing the latter and hearing life stories. I had a long chat once with Barry, where he told me about his wife entirely losing her libido in midlife.

Back in the early Noughties there was not the knowledge, medical support and community around midlife we are blessed to have now; maybe things would have been different for her today. But for her then, her appetite for anything sexual at all had seemingly upped and left, and that was that. There was still lots of physical affection, a shared deep commitment to family, enjoyment of holidays and hobbies together (although a lot of her time now went into being a doting grandmother), hopes and dreams together, and love.

But no sex. Barry found this left him deeply unhappy. Compassionate celibacy was something he tried, but he felt was a detriment to his own physical and mental health and to his ability to show up as a loving, compassionate husband and father. He didn’t want to have a UK-based affair that might threaten the family‘s happiness.

He started visiting strip pubs as a way of enjoying some flirtation that he knew was going nowhere (in my coaching terminology today, I’d say “to be ‘seen’ as a sexual being”). Then, travelling with work, he met a woman in a similar situation, whose husband was no longer sexually active. They struck up an arrangement that had been working successfully for both of them for several years at that point.

How would you judge Barry? If the sexual acts themselves seem permissible, in the circumstances, how about the lies he must have had to tell to get away for his ‘business trip’ every six weeks or so (although in those days there was much less deceit needed than in our tech-heavy world now)? What about the money he spent, that he therefore wasn’t spending on his own family? Can you see a different solution - what would you have had him do?

I’ll continue this topic in another blog post, asking whether engaging sex workers can equal compassionate cheating. Also where the line is drawn… Were my coupled-up regulars as a stripper, who’d come to see me and pay me for dances, cheating on their partners? How did I manage the ethical sides of this, and what did 12 years in the work teach me?

For now, I would be fascinated to hear my communities’ opinions on Barry. Were his actions ‘compassionate cheating’? Or is there no such thing?

Ruth