— When it comes to affairs of the heart, we are all beginners. Some of us, however, at least speak with authority. Introducing Shon Faye, author of The Transgender Issue (2021) and the forthcoming Love in Exile (2025), whose advice caught our eye.
By Shon Faye
Dear Shon,
I am in a long-term and loving relationship with my partner of almost seven years. We live together and share a fun, happy, and fulfilling life together. We tried polyamory last year, and I fell in love with someone new and was in a relationship with that person for about 10 months. I fell really hard and fast and deep. I had only ever been in love with my partner before meeting this new person. I could see a future with them, and we slotted into each other’s lives. I was totally besotted. It felt so romantic and big.
Then they broke up with me. They said they didn’t want our relationship to end but they couldn’t see a way for it to move forward that would work for them. They wanted things that I couldn’t give them. We have been broken up for three months, and I am miserable. I have been as open as I can be with my primary partner, and we are managing. I have started new hobbies, met new people, slept, cried, eaten well, stayed hydrated, listened to sad music, talked about it with friends. I have been sober since breaking up. I have been looking after myself. And I am miserable.
What should I do? Is this a choice between two lovers? Or should I fight for them back (when I’m not sure I can give them what they need)?
In heartbreak,
S
Dear S,
The solution to your problem is simple for me to explain, though not easy for you to bear. You’re so devastated because you’re learning one of the most painful lessons there is to learn: that the presence of love is not the only requirement for a relationship to work. Sometimes, an overwhelming passion for another person and an intensity of feeling and connection to them that seems life altering leads absolutely nowhere. You are ruminating over your hopes and fantasies when you were falling for this person—it all seemed to be pointing toward something exciting and transformative. Your life felt elevated and gleamed with potential. Then it just ended. It sucks. I can tell you from experience that ending a relationship under these circumstances feels like burying something still alive so that it can slowly die, shrivel, and decay in the darkness. The imagery I am using is a touch dramatic but only because withdrawing from love is an experience of extremes and, when you’re in it, can honestly feel like a matter of life and death.
I think the fact that this occurred within the context of polyamory is less important, actually. It can and does happen every day to people who are monogamous. If you have only ever loved your primary partner until now and that love progressed to a relationship of many years, you haven’t had the experience of releasing someone in the midst of infatuation because you’re simply not compatible. I wish someone sat us down as teenagers and told us about how important compatibility is. Then again, who would listen as it all sounds so terribly boring: timing, values, financial aspirations, religion, ethics, desires for children, location. Turns out that cumulatively they all matter far more than chemistry and passion in the long term.
You probably know some of this because of your existing partner. They are familiar to you; the love you have for them is perhaps quieter, more consistent, more reliable—even a little boring. That’s what a lot of long-term relationships are—a decision every day to share the mundanity of life. There can still be joys and surprises, but they’re slower and subtler. They will never be as dramatic and grandiose as the thoughts and feelings we experience in the early stages of infatuation, when we have a blank canvas to paint all of our greatest fantasies onto someone new. It’s unsustainable. If you’re still thinking in epic, cinematic terms after a year or two, it’s probably a sign the relationship is dysfunctional.
This isn’t a choice between two lovers because you say you aren’t dissatisfied with your first partner—you are just desperately looking for a way to hold on to the new love, and so your mind keeps presenting this as an ultimatum: End your current relationship and chase a dream, or feel this pain forever. In reality, leaving your current partner would very much risk adding another heartbreak to this scenario and is no guarantee you would make it work with this new person. Fighting for them may work for a month or two, but breakups happen for a reason.
You’re doing all the right things for getting over heartbreak—make sure too that you do not follow this person on social media or maintain contact with them. It is brutal at first, but it works. One thought I had was about your existing partner and their reaction to all this: I would gently suggest that they cannot be the person who supports you through this grief. Ethical non-monogamy doesn’t mean we lose all feelings of jealousy, pain, or resentment. You need to explain to your partner that you’re trying your best to get over this, but also ask them how they feel and what boundaries they may need. It’s good to talk to friends about the breakup and accept that, while your partner is concerned about you, they have their own limits. Once, when I was heartbroken and unsure I would ever be happy again, my friend said to me: “Time will do the work for you if you just keep moving through it.” Hang on in there; it will pass.
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