I’m forty-one now, and I’ve never betrayed my wife. But before she came into my life, I wasnt exactly a saint. Id never had a steady girlfriend. I was freeand I lived as a free man. I went out with one woman, then another; I’d have dates on Fridays, parties on Saturdays, always surrounded by mates and laughter. I owed no explanations to anyone, because Id made no promises.
I worked in an electrical workshop in Manchester, earned a decent wage in pounds. After hours, youd find me with friends in pubs, at nightclubs, crashing birthday bashes. Sometimes, Id spend the night with a woman, then vanish from her world by morningnot out of malice, but because I wasnt looking for anything serious. I always said commitment wasnt for me.
Everything changed the day I met my wife. It was at St. Marys Hospital, where she was a trainee nurse. I was called in to sort out a dodgy plug socket. She asked for my help, and we struck up a conversation. She asked my name; I asked hers. We both laugheda moment of genuine warmth. Before my shift ended, she slipped me her phone number. I messaged her that very eveningnot with my usual swagger, but nervous, like a schoolboy, fumbling over words.
Our first dates were simple. Walks along the River Irwell, ice cream in the park, sharing a homemade pasty after our shifts. Gradually, I stopped noticing other womennot because she demanded it, but because I just didnt want to give my attention to anyone else. There was nothing ordinary about her.
When I finally asked her to be my girlfriend, I was blunt: If we do this, we do it right. No half measures. She looked me dead in the eye and said, I dont share. I replied, Nor do I. That day, I learned that loyalty means more than not looking elsewhereits about keeping your word.
We married with no fuss, nothing fancy. We rented a room in Salford, borrowed a bed, survived with a tiny cooker. We both worked full-timeher, night shifts; me, overtime. There was no space for adventure, just bills, exhaustion, and our shared dreams.
Temptations, however, did arise. At work, a colleague started messaging me late at night, sent accidental selfies, hinted I deserved better than a worn-out wife. Once, she waited for me in the parking lot and suggested we sneak off to a hotel. I told her no, got in my car, and went straight home.
At a mates party, a drunk woman slid next to me, touched my arm. I stood up, found my wife, and left without a word. Id rather seem rude than cross a line I could never erase.
My mates tease me nowadays, call me boringsay I used to be alive, now Im just tied down. And theyre not wrongIm not who I was. Back then, I lived only for myself. Now, I live with someone.
Recently, my son, Jack, asked me if Id ever been with other women since marrying Mum. I told him, No. He looked at me, surprisedsaid most of his friends parents have split up because of affairs. It hit me then: my choices affect more than my marriagethey shape my childrens world.
I was a womaniser when I was free, simply because I had no obligations. But the day I chose herthe woman I wanted to grow old withI realised loyalty isnt a prison. Its a conscious, everyday decision. And even now, Ive never regretted choosing her.
