I remember the first time that I heard the term “Lesbian Bed Death”. I thought to myself, “Wow, what an appropriate term.” That’s exactly what it felt like right at the time I had heard it. I was, at the time, in a 10-year relationship whose bed had died about 5 years before and no amount of resuscitation was bringing it back to life.

Believe me when I say, I tried to revive it. I cried, I wrote her letter upon letter explaining my feelings, begged, “talked about it”, went to counseling, we even tried this lesbian workbook called Feathering Your Nest by Gwen Leonhard and Jennie Mast (which she never took seriously). After that, I was in a shame spiral. We will just suffice it to say that I sought the affection elsewhere. Pretty much anywhere that offered it up. I did things I do not even like to think about or admit.

I look back on that period of about 2 years of my life where I did all that I could to feel something and realized that the death extended far beyond my bed. I had died inside. I felt devoid of anything that resembled myself. Worse, I had allowed it. I allowed my self-esteem to rot, my values to disintegrate and my sense of self to crumble away.

I began to believe the myth. Every long-term lesbian relationship I knew of was going through turmoil at the same time I was going through it. I became convinced that the Grim Reaper had plagued their relationships as well and all of this was inevitable.

Every lesbian relationship point of reference that I had that seemed whole and strong on the outside were crumbling from within and were beginning to show their signs. I believed that all was lost. There was no hope for a relationship that could be all that I wanted it to be. I was doomed to a life of finding outside sources for the affection I so very much longed for.

Then something happened. I met my (now) wife and something changed. What was meant to be a simple love affair began to take on a different shape. All at once, I started to hear a faint sound of a heartbeat come from within me. What I took from her to fill a void became something more. It became a need. I knew I was in trouble because I knew almost right away that she could actually give me everything I was looking for.

…and it’s been true ever since. I actually have every aspect that I need from a relationship now. Love, respect, affection, support, humor, the works! Unfortunately, it had come to me in a way that I would rather it hadn’t.

So, is Lesbian Bed Death real? For some, yes. Yes it is. However, it is not inevitable. If your bed has passed away and refuses to be revitalized, do not blame lesbianism. Being a lesbian is not the culprit. The problem is: your relationship.

If you’ve tried and tried to fix the problem and nothing has changed, you have only one option. Get out. Leave before you turn to alternative means of fulfillment. Get out before that which is you ceases to be. Your tryst on the “dark side” will haunt you. It haunts me still.