Like Miranda, I'm questioning my sexuality in a long term relationship.

If you’ve been watching the Sex and the City reboot, And Just Like That (whether you’re loving the nostalgia or cringing at the attempt to be woke), you’d be aware of a new character who has joined the ranks of Carrie, Charlotte and Miranda. 

Che Diaz is a comedian and podcast host; they’re confident, funny, and frankly very sexy. And Miranda agrees.

With her ageing, doddery husband Steve clueless at home (you can read about how this season has failed the character of Steve here) she starts an affair with Che. But her turmoil is evident. 

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Che represents more than someone new and shiny to distract her from her dying marriage. Che awakens something in Miranda that she hadn’t considered in her 55 years; that she might be queer.

Coming to terms with your queerness is easy for some women, and not for others. 

There’s a million ways to discover your sexuality and then a million more ways to act on it. But what if you’re in a long term, straight relationship? And what if, unlike Miranda, you adore your partner and your life together?

My boyfriend and I have been together for nine years. 

Considering I’m 30, that is almost my entire adult life. Before I met him, I was a single 20-year-old ‘enjoying’ my single life, but being with him has been the most enjoyable part of my life so far. We’re independent people, who have separate friends, take separate holidays and definitely don’t want to get married. 

I honestly feel like these things have helped us go the distance and made sure we don’t feel boxed in by our relationship.

However, the older I get and the more I think about a part of my life I’m unable to get a clear picture of in the confines of my monogamous relationship; my attraction to women and non-binary people.

I know the attraction is there, that part was easy to figure out, but what does that mean for me? I’m someone who wants to know myself so I can continue to grow, but is that possible without blowing up my incredible relationship?

I’m afraid I don’t have the answer. 

I know it doesn’t involve cheating like Miranda did (however there’s no judgement from me- I know some people don’t have an easy way to explore their sexuality due to cultural or personal reasons) but here are some ways I’ve been working through this that others in a similar situation might find helpful.

Side note: listen to Mamamia's sex and relationships podcast, Sealed Section. Post continues below.

Firstly, I spoke to my therapist about it. 

As they are a neutral party outside of my relationship who I am paying to speak to, there should be no judgement from them. 

If you can afford or have access to therapy, this can be helpful 

Mine reminded me that, while it can be frustrating not having answers about an important part of my identity, there really was no hurry to ‘figure it out’.

They suggested speaking to my partner, if I felt able to. So I did. 

When I opened up this conversation with my partner, he was open and understanding (as he should be- and it's one of the reasons I love him). Being honest took away some of the weight of the situation, and there was no pressure to 'solve' the situation by doing something like opening up our relationship or having a threesome. If anything, it made us closer because I didn't feel like I was keeping something from him. I don't know what the future holds for us but as this is an ongoing conversation, I don't feel like I'm doing this alone.

While I haven’t reached any conclusion about my own sexuality (it might not be something I’m ever 100 per cent on) I’m grateful for some mainstream representation of this dilemma. 

Everyone deserves to be their true self. 

Feature Image: And Just Like That.