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My husband and I have built a happy life and a perfect, loving marriage.
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But we rarely had sex, so I went to couples therapy to save my marriage.
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After traveling alone, I found out I was a lesbian and had to end my marriage.
In May 2020, I embarked on a two-week solo camping trip and left behind the two things I loved most. my husband and my dog.
I had no map, no plan, no idea what was going to happen next. This trip was a way to escape what felt like the world was falling apart. Little did I know that in the next two weeks I would find myself changing my life.
When I got home I lesbian and ended my decade happily marriage.
We met in college and 10 years later ended up in a yoga class together.
What first attracted me was his height. He was over six feet tall. However, it didn’t take long to realize that he had a lot of other charms. We dated for three years, got engaged, bought a house and got a dog. Two years later we got married.
did not do it have sex It was my wedding night and I was tired.i.e. not everyone Have sex on your wedding night, right?
For the next five years, we immersed ourselves in our careers. He’s in finance, I’m in non-profit. But at the girls’ night out, I drank too much and came home and climbed on top of him like a child. Lying in bed eating mac and cheese, we sloppily talked about the gossip that night. My life and my marriage were perfect, so I had nothing juicy to share with a girl.I had a house, a dog, a career, and a husband.
But the truth is, my husband and I only had sex a few times a year. With everything else, I kept telling myself it was okay not to have sex.
We tried several times to reboot our sex life and marriage
Years later I signed up for a weekend retreat for couples in need of a little refreshment. We saw it as an opportunity to disconnect and reconnect. From sunrise to sunset, we sat in our hotel conference room, sipping lukewarm coffee, listening, holding hands, and engaging in cheesy group activities. Participated and took notes. We set off that weekend with a shared Google calendar for our scheduled sex—Thursday was supposed to be our day.
But we had very little sex for another year. We decided to go to a marriage agency. We told our friends it was “maintenance”. Our therapist gave us a homework assignment: read on “Men are from Mars, women are from Venus’ And hold hands and look into each other’s eyes for a minute a day.
Then came the pandemic, which made maintenance attempts disastrous. I was drowning in work and feeling very depressed. From home, from career, from life.
But my husband was happy. He liked his life, the life we built. He was happy, so he was fine with a mostly sexless marriage—really happy. I got everything I dreamed of, but why did I feel something was missing?
One night, while changing into my pajamas, I said, “I might be gay.”
“Maybe,” he replied with the same amount of airiness behind his words.
I nodded, got into bed, kissed him goodnight, and rolled over.
I always thought of myself as a heterosexual woman, but I couldn’t deny that I was attracted to other women.
I ignored all signs. I used to flirt with my friends in high school, and everyone thought so.
When I told my couples therapist that I might be a lesbian, she brushed it off. At that time, she booked a solo camp.
On top of that, I realized I’m not straight. I was devoted to a particular vision I had for my life. That vision was so steeped in heteronormativity that I could not even look straight at it. I loved my husband and my life. It was exactly what I wanted and needed until I realized it wasn’t mine at all.
Two weeks later, I returned from that camping trip and said out loud the first and last words I felt: “I’m gay.
My husband knew it and I knew it. We cried, hugged, and cried some more. This beautiful thing — our life, our marriage — is over.
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