Honestly…I Love My Boyfriend, But I Have Feelings For My Flatmate

Dear Emma, 

I have been with my boyfriend for three and a half years now; I love him dearly and I think he is truly a wonderful person. However, within the past month I have moved in with five other friends, one of which I have formed a huge attraction to. I find myself daydreaming about being intimate with him, and just overall feeling magnetically drawn to him. We are good friends, and I wouldn't act on these feelings, but I also don't know what to do with them.  

I hope you could give me some advice on this - I don't want to speak to anyone about it for fear they think I will cheat on my partner.

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Dear Reader,  

I, for the bulk of time I set aside to answer these dilemmas, take a mostly sarcastic and always slightly derisive approach to offering feedback. Rightly or wrongly, I feel that it satisfies the needs of those with a predetermined bias toward self-masochism within a public arena; rightly or wrongly, I sometimes manage to amuse myself with it. Not that I intend for my advice to be taken as any less genuine because of this. I’m simply generating a supply in the face of demand. However, reading your predicament more than a couple of times over, I’m allowing my more caustic side to occupy itself elsewhere on this occasion. You seem nothing if not kind and display more than a fraction of consideration for the feelings of your partner. On all accounts, you are an increasingly rare breed. 

With limited knowledge of you as an individual and the intricacies of your relationship, I can grant only limited direction. But if I am right in assuming that you have a resolve to expose the best parts of those you care to have in your life, then please, if anything, extend the same courtesy to yourself. Foresight, admittance, self-awareness, and non-indulgence can be wonderful things, but instantaneously debilitating for true expression. That’s not to say, though, that a “Fuck It” method of action in this extremely tremulous situation wouldn’t possibly be rewarded with the worst possible consequences. There’s no smoke without fire, and you could really do without feeding the flame if you can help it.   

Whatever transpires and whichever path you follow to lead yourself out of this confusion is bound to involve some rather enlightening and equally painful conversations, both with yourself and with your partner, for which the best thing to do is prepare. Honesty means nothing if you fail to put it into practice.  

I’m particularly curious to know if yourself and your partner are what could be considered childhood sweethearts. Three and a half years of absolute fidelity to the same person perhaps isn’t breaking new ground when you put into perspective the prospect of having eighty-plus years left of shuffling along the mortal coil, but it’s really something in a time when everything is parcelled up, priced and commodified, including basic human intimacy. Money needn’t be exchanged; closeness always has some transactional value in the form of an emotional cost. The concept of a childhood sweetheart, for me, seems to bypass this loop. You likely come into the relationship fresh out of innocence, and retain a small part of it by entrusting yourself as you age to this chosen fellow purist. Corruption is largely irrelevant, that is until you’re parted either by choice or circumstance. Of course, as you become wiser about the world around you, you may find the way you interact with your partner lacks the initial fervour and pace of the early days of your relationship. This, I would say, is to be expected. But according to the Childhood Sweetheart Code, everything must remain the same or else it’ll fall apart. I’m not entirely confident as to why this vain attempt to clutch onto external expectations has become sickeningly idealised, and even over-romanticised, but I’m inclined to call bullshit. A relationship need only to be fulfilling to be a success, and good-enough romances ought to take precedent as an alternative to competing for superlatives. You’re probably so over-familiar with your partner that you are fully aware whether he would be capable of engaging in an adult conversation about your reservations. Though on the reverse, is this a case of over-familiarity leading to stagnation? 

I suppose I must ask also whether you do in fact still find your needs being fulfilled by your relationship. I suspect you may already be able to answer this, in light of seeking advice. Contrary to popular belief, something needn’t have “gone wrong” for you to be questioning what it is that you want exactly. Despite comparison truly being a killer, in this event it’s entirely necessary when your long-term happiness is clearly at stake. Place yourself in the mindset of someone truly pragmatic; who, out of your partner or your housemate, is making you feel fulfilled at this present moment? If a connection is strong enough, it should find no issue in transcending distances and physical barriers. Who gives you a justifiable reason to head into the comfort of a dead sleep, and motivation enough to begin the day with a positive mind? Who makes you laugh so hard that you leave with stomach cramps, blurred vision, and a face wet with tears? If your answer is anyone other than your partner, then I believe you know what you must do.  

One final thing I must ask is that, if you ultimately choose to end your relationship, do so before you go on to pursue any other romantic lead. I’m too far into early adulthood to advise you not to explore what options there may be with your housemate or pass down the guidance from posterity to not “shit where you eat”. The heart wants what it wants, but timing is crucial if you don’t wish to cause more anguish than necessary. Good luck – I hope, above all, that you arrive finally at contentment.  

 by Emma Doyle

(Staff Love & Relationships Writer & Agony Aunt)

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