Here's something nobody in couples therapy is saying out loud: the most neutral person in the room might be the gay one.

Think about that for a second.

You're a straight couple. You walk into a therapist's office — maybe you're fighting about communication, maybe trust got broken, maybe you've just grown so far apart you're not sure who the other person is anymore. And sitting across from you is someone who is supposed to hold space for both of you equally. No sides. No unconscious rooting for the home team. Just clarity.

But here's the thing. That's a lot harder than it sounds.

Your phone is in the room. And your partner knows it.

Not because you said anything. Not because you did anything wrong, technically. But they felt it — that half-second where your eyes went somewhere else. That dinner where your thumbs were busier than your mouth. That moment in bed where you were right next to each other and somehow completely alone.

Social media isn't ruining marriages. But it is doing something quieter, and in some ways more dangerous — it's making disconnection feel normal.

Stay with me.

Every couples therapist will tell you that showing up is half the work. But they usually mean emotionally showing up. What nobody talks about — what I've watched quietly derail real, motivated couples — is the sheer physical logistics of getting two busy people to one office, on one couch, at the same time, twice a month.

That's not a small thing. That's the thing.

So when I started doing remote couples therapy, I expected it to feel like a compromise. A workaround. A “better than nothing.” But then something strange happened.

Couples started opening up faster.