My relationship of over eight years to my boyfriend Max was hanging on by a thread. It was bad. We were both miserable and headed towards an inevitable split. And if that wasn't bad enough, my work life was somehow even more miserable. I was suddenly doing three people's jobs and working sixty plus hours a week. At 52, I was in a job that I hated and a relationship that wasn't working. And then the pandemic hit.
I couldn't take it anymore. As awful as the pandemic was, it gave me time to stop and re-assess my life. Life can be taken away in an instant and I didn't want to spend another minute of it being miserable. I spent my life conforming to other people's standards and I didn't ever want to do that ever again. Life is too short to be miserable.
I broke up with Max.
I quit my job.
I cut my hair radically short and dyed it purple. I got a few new tattoos.
I eventually found a new job - it is much less corporate, much less bullshit (although definitely a sizeable amount of bullshit) and far more diverse. I can wear whatever I want and be myself. Nobody gives me shit about my hair or my tattoos - in fact, I'm often complimented on both.
I was starting to feel much better about myself and my life. I was even thinking of dating again. I had been with Max for so long, and before that was married for many years, so I was very much out of practice. And I imagine the prospects are limited for a 50-something divorcee.
But I feel like I have something to offer. I'm smart and accomplished and kind of cute. I have some style. I'm no beauty queen, but I've managed to stay relatively fit and healthy. I'm tall at nearly 5'10" and while my body isn't as pert as it used to be, men still check out my ass on the beach.
I made a few attempts at making an online dating profile, but couldn't get into it. I had met Max online, so I know online dating can work, but didn't seem to have the bandwidth to go through all the hassle of weeding through all the creepy guys and crazy messages and the unending parade of dick pics.
And I missed Max. We were good for each other in so many ways, but I couldn't take his constant absence. Max is always out of town for work, often half the year, and even when he is in town, he works nights and I work days. It was like being in a relationship with a ghost. And sadly, our sex life had become non existent the last few years. But I still missed him so.
I called him. We made a coffee date. We talked. And talked. And talked.
In so many ways we are not right for each other, but in so many ways we are. I love this man so much and didn't know what to do about it.
Max had brought up an idea years ago that I dismissed out of hand, but he was bringing it up again - an open relationship. I initially cringed at the idea. And while I consider myself progressive and inclusive and open minded, I still couldn't wrap my head around it.
I'm a romantic at heart I suppose - I love the idea of growing old with a special someone and taking care of each other. But I did have friends who were in open marriages and seemed to be doing well. After that coffee date with Max, I had a long talk with my longtime friend Aidan - a lovely gay man who was in an open marriage with his husband. They stopped being sexual with each other several years into their marriage but were still with each other romantically. They still planned on growing old together.
My anxiety ridden head and heart foresaw all the potential issues with jealousy and resentment and STIs, but for Aidan and his husband it seemed to work. Aidan reminded me that many monogamous couples cheat, and that its much healthier to be open about it. But I never wanted to cheat on Max - I just wanted more of his time.
