She knew my past, and she still asked anyway. That was what gutted me the most. We had been married for six years. I was thirty-two, she was thirty-one, and I had built everything around making sure we had a stable life.
I grew up in a messy, poor household, and I swore I would never repeat that pattern. I worked my ass off in my industry, bought a house early, made smart investments, and still made time to be a good husband. Random dates, gifts that weren’t tied to a calendar, genuine effort. I knew I made her feel loved.
I did my gosh darn best. But on a random day after a sports game, right after my team won, she dropped it. “You want to talk about opening up the marriage? ”
I thought it was a joke.
A bad one. I laughed and told her that was a touchy subject for me, and she knew it. She laughed too, went quiet for a minute, and then said, “I’m not joking. ”
I honestly felt like my heart stopped.
This was my nightmare scenario. I had been through an open relationship once, back in college, with a girl I’d dated since high school. She pushed for it, I caved because I loved her, and I nearly died from the anxiety and depression. At the end of it, she told me she’d met someone else and ended things.
That someone was someone she’d met through the open arrangement. So no, I’m not a fan of open relationships. And I made sure my wife knew that from the very beginning of our marriage. She wasn’t ignorant.
She had assured me that she never cared about that kind of thing. And now she was serious. She started guilt-tripping me, saying I never noticed her sadness or depression. She said she felt restricted by life in general and just wanted to feel freer.
I asked her how sleeping with other people would do that. She couldn’t give me a straight answer. She just claimed she couldn’t put it into words, but she knew it would help. She talked about making other changes too, and it all sounded like she was trying to dress up as a twenty-year-old again.
I told her I needed air. She said, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. ” I wanted to throw something at her. I left the house and went for a walk.
Halfway through, I ended up sitting on a fire hydrant, crying like a mess. I didn’t care who saw. Some pain only cares about itself. When I got myself together, I went back home.
I told her I needed time to think, but really, I was searching for the will to end the marriage. That night, I went through her phone. I found her conversations with her girlfriends, and I found out the real reason. She missed her college days.
She missed sleeping around and feeling young. I was the one stopping her, and she was too principled to cheat outright, so she wanted my blessing. Even after I told her that the whole concept was a painful scar from my past. That was when I realized I was coddling her.
She didn’t care about my pain. She cared about orgasms from different people. That was worth destroying what we had. The next time we spoke, I gave her one more chance to admit why she really wanted this.
She didn’t. She gave me the usual bull about strengthening trust and keeping things fresh and exciting. She even tried to frame it as a benefit to me, saying I could enjoy myself too. As if I wanted to sleep around.
I never understood casual intimacy. I’m not that kind of person. So I said yes. She was happier than I expected.
It was pathetic to watch. She jumped on me and hugged me, and I made sure she knew she had still hurt me, especially because she knew my history. She apologized a lot, said she wanted to be true to herself, and that she knew I would support her if it didn’t involve me. That was true.
I had always supported her. And that was the first time I felt like a fool for being a good husband. But I had already met with a divorce lawyer and paid him in advance. I had no intention of using the open marriage.
I only agreed to hurt her back. And I didn’t even need to wait for her to use it either. I wanted to divorce her before it got to that point. Before I could even plan my next move, I got a chance to use it anyway.
I wasn’t looking for it. I vented to a female co-worker who noticed I wasn’t in my usual mood. I didn’t want to tell her at first, but she had always been kind to me, so I did. She consoled me, called my wife selfish, and that felt good to hear from someone else.
When we were about to leave work, she asked if I wanted a drink. I said sure. She told me to follow her car because she knew a good spot. We ended up in front of an apartment building.
Her apartment. She came clean and said she would mix a drink for me. I was oblivious. We had always been strictly friendly.
Inside, she poured me a drink. I enjoyed it. Then she got touchy. I flinched at first, but she pointed out that everything was free game for me now, and I needed to forget about my ring.
So I did. Part of me still felt married, and it was hard at first, but I made the most of it. It was good. Afterward, she told me the best way to move on was to find someone else to have fun with.
She said she wouldn’t pressure me anymore, but if I ever wanted her, she’d be there. When I got home, I told my wife that I had taken advantage of the open marriage. It had been less than a week since I agreed. I could tell she didn’t like that.
I asked her if she had done anything. She said, “Not yet, but soon. ” For the rest of the night, she was in a bad mood. It was silly to me.
She asked for an open marriage thinking she’d be drowning in men while I waited around for a crumb of attention. The very next day, she got served with the divorce papers. She was completely confused. “Didn’t you agree to it?
Is this a joke? You slept with someone yesterday. You wanted it. You could have said no.
Answer me. ”
She was furious. I told her the truth: the moment I said yes, I knew I was going to divorce her. She knew my past and she didn’t care.
That was enough. She got even angrier that I had slept with someone, like I was the bad guy for using the open marriage she herself suggested. She accused me of cheating before. I didn’t say anything.
I let her believe whatever she wanted because I was done. She told me to go F myself. I told her I had someone willing to do that and I could go back to her if she didn’t mind. She raised her hand like she wanted to slap me, but she held herself back.
She never left the house, and I refused to leave either. I had contributed more to the house, and she couldn’t afford the mortgage as comfortably on her own. So we lived together through the divorce process. It was immensely uncomfortable.
She kept trying to get under my skin by making it obvious she was talking to other men. It was silly. It did bother me, but I didn’t show it. The divorce was messy.
She resented me. In court, we split everything. I got the house, which was the one thing I wanted most. She tried to take it, but she didn’t.
She did get a hefty alimony, but because we hadn’t been married long, I won’t be paying it for long. She got my car too, the more expensive one. That sucked, but you can always get a new car. A few weeks after the divorce, she reached out.
She did a lot of talking about how I had intentionally hurt her with what I pulled. She said I could have just said no, and everything would have been fine. She claimed she never would have left me over it. She called me petty and said I handled things like a child.
That’s when I stopped her. I told her she was the one who acted like a child. I had told her what I hated, one of the only no-go areas in our marriage, and because she missed getting railed by every guy in college, she threw it all away. She made the wrong choices first.
I was just reacting. It had nothing to do with me. It was all her fault. I could hear her sniffling, trying not to cry.
After that, she barely said a word. When I realized there was nothing left to say, I hung up. I’ve barely spoken to her since. I think I’m going to cut her off entirely.
I was hurt by her, but I’m glad I hurt her back. That was a win for me. I do feel like a fool for not telling her to go F herself right when she suggested it. But my mind was a mess.
Honestly, I don’t mind the way things went. I really don’t.
