I was in that relationship for five years. We were married for two of them and lived together for three. Most of our engagement was spent apart, in a long-distance relationship. We saw each other once every three months, and there was a year where we only managed to be together twice because of his job. At the time, it didnt seem like a problem. In fact, I saw it as the perfect relationship. We missed each other, cried during our calls, poured out our love through messages and video chats. We never argued. There was no jealousyneither from him nor from me. We respected each others space. He could go out for dinner with friends, I could go to a party, and it never caused any issues. He even helped me choose what to wear. Not provocative outfitshe often told me that a particular dress was too fitted on me, and suggested I wear whatever made me look and feel good. He was never controlling. On the contrary, he seemed proud of me and how I looked. Everything was healthy, calm, just right.
One December was especially tough, because we knew we wouldnt be able to see each other for Christmas or New Years. We were upset and disappointed. Thats when he suggested I move in with him, to his city. I thought it over, spoke with my family, and they told me if this was what I wanted, I should go for it. I quit my job and relocated to Manchester to be with him.
The first few months went well. That first year was all about adaptingfiguring out each other’s quirks, how we woke up in the mornings, what we were like when we were hungry, what irritated us, what didnt. As I wasnt working, I took care of the house. Everything felt easy.
The second year was even better. We became a real team, moving into a more intense, loving phase. We wanted to be together all the time. When he wasnt at work, we were inseparable. We seemed like newlyweds. It all felt right. I thought Id made the right decision.
But things started changing in the third year. He began coming home late. We always shared our locations with each other, but then one day he switched it off without saying a word. Hed come home at five or six in the morning, just shower, have breakfast, and leave again, even though he had work at eight. He stopped explaining. Arguments became constant.
Then something happened that marked me forever. I found makeup on his white shirtfoundation and lipstick, on the collar and sleeve. It was unmistakable. I asked for an explanation. He told me something Ill never forget: that hed had to look elsewhere for what I no longer gave him, because Id become boring, focused only on cleaning and tidying up. That was more than enough. He didnt exactly say, Yes, Im cheating, but didnt deny it either. The truth was plain.
It crushed me. I cried all the time. The pain in my chest felt almost physical. I had no idea how to cope, how to move forward. So I decided to do something for myself. I started going back to the gym. I used to train before moving in with him, but Id stopped. There, I met a man. We started talking. It felt good. One day, he invited me out for a drink, and I suggested we go to his instead. He agreed. We arranged to meet in the afternoon. We both knew what we wanted.
At home later that day, after seeing him at the gym that morning, I couldnt get one thought out of my head: This cant be happening. Im going to cheat on him. He deserves it. But just as quickly, I told myself, No. I wont become like him. I decided to end it before it went any further.
I waited for my husband to come home for lunch. I wouldnt even let him into the bedroom. We sat in the dining room and I told him our relationship wasnt working, that hed been unfaithful, and I didnt want to know with whom or for how long. That it all ended right there and then. He told me I was overreacting, that the woman didnt matter, that she wasnt like me, that we could fix things. I told him I didnt want to try.
I didnt tell him Id met someone else or that I felt attracted to another man. I simply told him I was leaving. My bags were already packed. He asked where Id go, if there was anyone else. I said it didnt matter, Id figure it out.
I left the house with my suitcases and went to see the other man. When he saw me with all my things, he got nervous. I explained Id just left my husband, that Id be going back to my hometown, Oxford, the next day. I just wanted to spend that night together. He agreed.
That night was the most intense experience of my life. I dont know if it was anger, pain, or something that had built up for years, but it was something completely different from anything Id ever felt, even with my ex-husband.
The next day, I bought a ticket and returned to Oxford. I had nowhere else to go, so I moved back in with my parents. I wanted nothing more to do with my ex-husband. That was two years ago. Now, Im on my own, working again, renting my own place, and I dont regret the decision I made one bit. I was on the verge of being unfaithful, but I knew how to stop myself, how to end things properly, and not become what he was to me.
