My wife and I met at work. I was 46 at the time and she was 36. I had recently exited a long, damaging relationship with the mother of my 16-year-old son, we never married, but I'd stayed for years despite her alcoholism and emotional abuse, mostly out of concern for our son, who has Asperger's. I was just starting to date again when my wife and I began talking about whether we should go out, as several coworkers had been telling us we should. 

On August 8th of 2013 (fair warning; you're gonna get a lot of dates from me) we went on our first date. We were only scheduled for dinner, but neither of us wanted the night to end, and we caught a late night movie and then spent an hour talking in the car. It wasn't long before we were seeing each other all the time. The lotus flower became our symbol, because our love was blooming in the muck; I had become the single father to that 16 year old boy with Asperger's who, at the time, hated the new woman I was dating, my ex was intrusive, showing up drunk at the door. My wife met all this with grace, understanding and support. 

A long time critic of marriage, I had finally found someone that changed my mind. After a year of dating, we got engaged, and a year later, on September 25th, 2016, we got married. I still think of that day as the best day of my life.

Unlike past relationships, we never fought, we mediated disagreements so that we both won. I don't ever remember a raised voice. We were a team against all the challenges that were present in our life. I've read some stories here and listened to others, and unlike those stories, intimacy was never a problem between us, and she initiated just as much as I did. 

Seven years into our marriage, she started going through changes. She has always been someone who set aside her needs to meet the needs of others. She was someone who brought joy to everyone around her even if that was at her own expense. At this time she started setting boundaries, gaining self confidence and independence. Due to my own psychological makeup, I felt a distance between us and started seeking reassurance in an unhealthy manner, yet our marriage was still strong despite these struggles. 

It was during this time that she first brought up the idea of sleeping with a woman and we had even gone so far as to arrange for an acquaintance of hers to visit us with a threesome in mind. The woman visited, but nothing ever happened. The idea itself didn't come up again for a while, but our marriage stayed strong, and life moved forward.

In July of 2025, we moved from the east coast to Utah to support her career. I was excited because we were creating physical distance between us and some challenges we had with family. This included family that lived with us in an in-law apartment in the house we owned. The move to Utah, and purchase of a second house, meant that for the first time in our marriage it would just be us and our two pups. 

On August 7th (2026) she suggested we go out to dinner and while out told me that we needed to have a difficult conversation. She told me that she felt she needed to be with a woman and asked if I wanted to know before it happened, after it happened, or not at all. She told me that she had realized that she was bisexual. 

The following weekend we had further discussions about our relationship. I had an epiphany about how I had been acting over the last three years, and as someone who tackles a problem full force, I entered therapy to address my own psychological issues, obtained the book "This is How Your Marriage Ends" by Matthew Fray (I cannot recommend this book enough), and set out to be a better husband. 

I was scheduled to fly east for my annual Backpacking trip on the Appalachian trail, with a return flight for Sept 6th. My wife said she needed time away from me to figure out who she was and what she wanted and asked if I would consider not returning instead. We set a time frame after which we would check in, with the options being that I would return, we would extend the time, or we would make it permanent. I never imagined the latter could even be a possibility. We set a date of November 21, three months. 

We continued the small fluencies of love;  kissing, holding hands, embracing, saying "I love you," right up to the moment I stepped on the curb at the airport.

During the time of our separation I started researching Consensual Non-Monogamy. She had to figure out who she was and what she wanted, but I knew who I was and what I wanted, and that was to live the rest of my life by her side, even if that life didn't look like what I had imagined. That time apart was hell for me; the hardest thing I had ever done. I didn't know how I was going to make it to the 21st. 

On September 15th, I awoke to a text she had sent me at 2:00 in the morning. We needed to have a difficult conversation. 

We had a video call and she told me that she had a revelation that night; that she was "super gay." She was not bisexual, but a lesbian. It seems strange to say that, as hard as that conversation was, it was a good conversation. She had not gone into the conversation intending to ask for a divorce, but through the course of the conversation she realized that a divorce was what she needed and she asked for it.

Gutted, I decided to go to work, seeking normalcy. I emailed the friends that I had been talking to and visiting during the separation during the work day. 

Around mid-day, I received a text from her, "I love you [My name]." I told her that I loved her too, more than she could ever know, and she replied that she did know and that she was really, really, really sorry. I told her I could never forgive myself if I was the obstacle to her becoming her true self. She told me that she had loved being married to me and that she shared the grief about the future we thought we'd have, the plans we had made. We talked about grief, and she said we should both fully grieve the relationship because it deserved it. 

While I had gone to work, she took a sick day and spent it crying in our Utah home. I made sure she was getting support from her friends as well.

I find that now the uncertainty, the ambiguity, is gone, that I am strangely 'settled.' Yet the pain is nearly unbearable. I had finally found the one, and now she was taken away from me. After so many failed and damaging relationships, I finally had one full of joy, adventure, excitement, life! A few weeks ago I was holding my wife with the knowledge that I would die with the woman I loved by my side. Now the future's a black hole. And I know, I will likely recover, meet someone and even fall in love. But I don't think I will ever love as fully or deeply ever again. 

Last edited by StillClimbing (Yesterday 9:56 pm)