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Last week we talked about how better sex isn’t about technique—it’s about doing the harder, deeper work of building connection. The emotional kind. The kind that doesn’t have a shortcut.

And I mentioned that sometimes, one spouse wants to do that work and the other doesn’t. That leads us into today’s topic, something Dr. David Schnarch calls a Two-Choice Dilemma. And it’s such a crucial concept for marriages, especially when it comes to sex.

If you’ve ever felt stuck… like you’re doing the work and your spouse isn’t… or if you’ve ever felt like whatever choice you make is going to hurt—you’re probably right in the middle of one.

What Is the Two-Choice Dilemma?

Dr. Schnarch defines a Two-Choice Dilemma as a situation where you’re faced with two options, and neither of them feels good. You’re stuck choosing between two hard things, and you keep hoping there’s a third, magical option that will let you grow without discomfort, or get what you want without risking anything.

Here’s what’s tricky: most of us don’t want either of the actual options. We want a third option—one that feels good, easy, safe, and gets us what we want without the fallout.

So the dilemma might look like this:

• “Do I bring up the sex conversation again, even though I know it will make them defensive… or do I stay quiet and keep feeling invisible?”
• “Do I risk showing up more sexually, more vulnerably, and maybe feel awkward or rejected… or do I keep hiding and feel resentful?”
• “Do I take responsibility for changing myself and risk my spouse never joining me… or do I wait for them to change and keep feeling stuck?”

But what we really want is this third option:

• “I want to speak up and have them immediately validate and appreciate it.”
• “I want to show up sexually and feel instantly met and desired.”
• “I want to grow and have my spouse magically catch up with me at the same pace.”

That’s what we want. Of course we do. That would feel so much better. But it’s not real.

And so we circle inside the dilemma, hoping one day it will just resolve itself.

The Role of Anxiety in the Two-Choice Dilemma

What makes the dilemma so hard is the anxiety it brings up. And Schnarch is clear about this: growth always involves tolerating discomfort. It’s never anxiety-free.

In fact, the Two-Choice Dilemma is often the first time in a marriage when one or both spouses has to confront their own internal anxiety instead of managing it through the other person.

Let me explain what I mean.

We are so used to managing our anxiety through each other.

• We don’t bring things up because we don’t want to upset them.
• We say yes when we mean no, because we can’t tolerate their disappointment.
• We stay small because we’re afraid of what will happen if we grow.

So when we’re faced with this dilemma, we’re actually being asked to do something new: manage our own anxiety. Sit in the discomfort. Make a choice that feels true, even if it’s scary. Even if it brings temporary friction.

And that’s hard. Really hard.

You Can’t Force Someone to Grow—Even If You’re Willing

Let’s talk about the desire to control—because this is where many people get stuck. You want the relationship to grow. You want better sex. You want deeper connection. And you might be doing all the right things—reading, listening, practicing, self-reflecting.

But your spouse isn’t showing up in the same way. And that creates a different kind of dilemma:

• “Do I keep doing the work and risk leaving them behind?”
• “Do I slow down my growth and stay in sync with them, even if it means holding back who I really am?”

And what you really want is a third choice: “I want them to change because I’m changing. I want to inspire them, move them, make them grow—just by loving them enough.”

But here’s the hard truth: you can’t force growth. You can’t force intimacy. You can’t force someone to do the work. No matter how good your motives are. No matter how patient or generous you’ve been. No matter how many conversations you’ve had. Their growth has to be theirs.

Now, does that mean nothing can change? No. In fact, when you start making different choices—not to manipulate, but to become more solid in who you are—that often shifts the dynamic. It doesn’t guarantee anything, but it opens up possibility.

Sometimes that possibility is a turning point. Sometimes it’s the beginning of a longer journey.

And sometimes, you start to realize that you have grown enough to stop tolerating a dynamic that’s been hurting you.

What Are You Actually Choosing?

Here’s a key question I want you to sit with:

Are you trying to choose between what’s easy and what’s honest… or between what’s comfortable and what’s meaningful?

Because when we say, “Neither choice feels good,” what we often mean is:

• One choice feels scary and hard, but true.
• The other feels safer, but suffocating.

The path forward is rarely the one that keeps things calm and easy. It’s the one that grows you—even if it rocks the boat.

And let me be clear: that doesn’t mean blowing things up. It means you stop outsourcing your integrity. You stop waiting for permission to become the person you were created to be. You stop giving your sexuality, your voice, your needs away in exchange for temporary peace.

Because real peace—deep, lasting peace—comes from alignment, not appeasement.

A Personal Example

Let me share an example I’ve seen many times in couples I work with:

A husband has always been the higher-desire partner. He initiates often. His wife usually declines or goes along with it, but doesn’t seem emotionally present. He feels unwanted, disconnected, and resentful.

Finally, he says to himself: “I want more. I want a real connection. I want her to want me, not just tolerate me.”

So here’s his dilemma:

• “Do I stop initiating, and risk feeling even more rejected or disconnected?”
• “Or do I keep initiating, and feel like I’m begging for scraps?”

Neither option feels good. But he realizes—the real choice isn’t between sex and no sex. The real choice is between staying stuck in a pattern that’s killing his self-worth, or risking a new path that might lead to deeper honesty.

So he stops initiating—not to punish, but to step out of the cycle. And when she notices, and brings it up, he says, “I want more than duty sex. I want to be wanted. And I don’t want to keep doing what isn’t working.”

That’s honest. That’s brave. And it can change everything.

Choosing Between Two Hard Truths

And sometimes, the Two-Choice Dilemma is as big and heavy as this: Do I stay in a marriage where sex may never be what I want or need it to be? Or do I consider ending the marriage—not because I want out, but because I want more than what’s here? That’s not a choice anyone makes lightly. It’s the kind of decision that keeps you up at night, that brings tears, prayer, and deep soul-searching. And there’s no one-size-fits-all answer. But if you’re facing this, I want you to know—you are not wrong for wanting more. You’re not selfish for desiring a full, rich, intimate sexual relationship. And you’re not a failure if your marriage doesn’t grow the way you hoped. Sometimes the most courageous thing we can do is choose to stay, knowing we may always carry a grief. And sometimes the bravest choice is to let go—not because you stopped loving, but because you started honoring yourself. Only you can make that choice. But you don’t have to do it alone.

So how do you actually make that choice? When you’re standing at that painful crossroads, where one path means staying in a marriage where sex might never feel connected, fulfilling, or whole… and the other path means ending the marriage and facing all the unknowns that come with that—grief, uncertainty, financial and family disruption—it’s no small thing.

So here’s how you begin to make that choice—not quickly, not emotionally, but with clarity, integrity, and courage.

1. You begin by telling yourself the truth.

No more sugarcoating. No more minimizing. No more saying, “It’s not that bad” if it is that bad. No more convincing yourself you shouldn’t want what you want.

You have to start with truth:

• What is this relationship actually like?
• How does it feel to live in this body, in this home, in this sexual dynamic?
• What have I asked for, and how has it been received?
• Is there any movement, or has it been years of shutdown?
• Am I abandoning myself in order to preserve the relationship?

This isn’t about blaming your spouse. It’s about telling the truth to yourself.

2. You ask who you are becoming in this relationship.

Schnarch says that the most important question in marriage is not “Are we happy?” but “Who am I becoming because of this relationship?”

So ask yourself:

• Am I growing, or shrinking?
• Am I becoming more of myself, or less?
• Am I walking in truth, or in fear?

Sometimes, people stay in marriages that aren’t working because they’re afraid of being seen as selfish, or breaking covenants, or damaging children. But if staying means dying inside—losing your voice, your sexuality, your vitality, your peace—that’s not a holy sacrifice. That’s self-erasure.

3. You look at whether you’ve truly done your work.

Before making a decision to leave, it’s essential to look in the mirror. Not to blame yourself—but to make sure you’ve owned your part:

• Have you spoken up clearly, not just hinted or hoped?
• Have you worked on your own sexual shame, resentment, or fear?
• Have you set boundaries instead of just avoiding conflict?
• Have you differentiated—grown your solid self, rather than stayed reactive or enmeshed?

You don’t need to be perfect. But if you haven’t done your work, and you leave, you risk repeating the same patterns in another relationship.

Doing your work first ensures that whatever decision you make, you’re doing it from clarity, integrity, and self-respect—not frustration, desperation, or fear.

4. You consider what staying or leaving would cost you—and what it would offer.

Every decision comes with a cost.

• Staying might mean accepting that your sexual needs may never be met. That’s a grief. You have to ask, Can I hold that grief and still live with integrity and peace? Can I let go of what I hoped for, and still love this person, this life, and myself?
• Leaving might mean disrupting your family, your financial security, your social world. That’s a grief too. But it might also mean rediscovering your voice, your wholeness, your joy. And let’s be honest, leaving doesn’t guarantee you’ll find someone else to be in a marriage and sexual relationship with.  You might be alone.  You have to decide if that is better or worse than your current situation.

So ask yourself honestly:

• Which pain can I live with?
• Which path lets me keep my integrity?
• Which one feels aligned with the person I want to become?

Neither option is easy. But only one leads you toward wholeness.

5. You stop waiting for certainty and start listening for peace.

This is the part where faith comes in. You will probably not have 100% certainty when you make this decision. That’s not how these things work. You’ll likely feel grief either way. You’ll worry about the unknowns.

But eventually, one path will begin to feel more peaceful. Not easier. Not pain-free. But more true. More aligned. More solid.

Sometimes that peace comes from deciding to stay—but no longer self-abandon.
Sometimes it comes from deciding to leave—but with love, not resentment.

6. You bring God into it.

Especially if you’re coming from a Crhistian framework, this is where your relationship with God matters deeply.

You ask:

• What is God asking me to learn in this relationship?
• What is God asking me to release?
• How does God want me to treat myself—not just my spouse—with love and holiness?
• Can I believe that God can still bless me, even if the marriage ends?

And sometimes you realize: God is not asking you to stay stuck in suffering. God is inviting you into deeper alignment, even if the path forward is hard.

You don’t make this kind of choice all at once. You make it step by step. You sit with it. You pray over it. You do your work. You tell yourself the truth. And when the time is right, you decide.

Not because one path is painless, but because one path leads you back to yourself.

You were not created to live numb. You were created to love well—with your whole heart, body, and soul.

And whatever path you choose, that’s the goal.

The Two-Choice Dilemma is a gift. It doesn’t feel like it in the moment—it feels like suffering. It feels unfair. But it’s the moment where you get to decide who you are becoming.

You can’t control your spouse. But you can control whether you stay stuck or stretch. Whether you betray yourself or become more whole. Whether you wait for them to grow or choose to grow anyway.

And yes, that might mean facing hard truths. Yes, that might mean tolerating anxiety. Yes, that might mean giving up the illusion of control.

But it also means freedom.

Freedom to live aligned. Freedom to be sexually whole. Freedom to love well—not just your spouse, but yourself.

Because better sex, better connection… It starts right here—not with the easy path, but the true one.

Remember, love is a journey, not a destination. Stay committed, stay passionate, and stay connected. Goodbye for now.