But there’s one major issue between us that we’ve never been able to fix — our sex life.

Whenever I try to talk to him about it — whether it’s expressing my own needs or suggesting we see a doctor or therapist — it always turns into a fight. Then come the tears, hurt feelings, and hopeless silence. Eventually, I just stopped bringing it up. I stopped waiting for change. I love him deeply, and I care so much about our son. So I convinced myself: even if we don’t have that part of our relationship, as long as we’re happy in every other way, it’s okay. And just like that, three years passed. In all that time, we’ve only been intimate a handful of times — barely enough to count on both hands. Whenever I feel hurt or emotionally distant from him, I turn to someone I’ve known since college — a close male friend I now work with. He’s always been there for me. He listens better than any of my girlfriends, and he understands me in a way no one else does. When we talk, I lose track of time. We speak for hours, I pour out everything, and I leave feeling lighter, calmer — ready to go home again.