I begged my 28-year-old partner for an open relationship because I was bored with him. There was nothing wrong with him. He just didn’t excite me anymore. To my surprise, he agreed, but he set one condition.
He told me there was a catch: if he ever caught feelings for another partner, he would leave me for her. I said yes to those terms. Eight months later, he left me for someone else. A woman close to our age who he met while we were open.
And now I want him back. I asked for advice on what to do to win back the love of my life. The responses were brutal but honest. People pointed out that I played myself.
I wanted the open relationship, I agreed to his condition, and now I wanted to reverse the consequences. One commenter said he didn’t cheat on me — I asked for this. The result was him finding someone who loves and respects him. They told me to walk away and get therapy.
I told them I didn’t want to be single. I wanted to prove to my boyfriend I could be better now. They weren’t having it. Then came the update.
He kicked me out of his house six days ago. I miss him excruciatingly. He looks happy on social media with his new partner — the same woman I suspect he was seeing before we even split. I called him.
No answer. I saw him in public, and he pretended not to know who I was. So I went to our old place to talk. Things turned hostile.
His new girlfriend, someone I had never even met, tried to attack me while he tried to separate us and push me out the door. When his back was turned, she maced me. Now he’s filing a restraining order against me. I asked the commenters: What did I do wrong?
She attacked me. She pepper-sprayed me. How do I convince him he’s dating a psychopath? One person answered plainly: He was dating a psychopath.
Leave that man alone. When I asked who they meant, they said me. The comments kept coming. They reminded me that I blamed the open relationship on my ADHD because I was bored.
I tried to claim he cheated when I was the one who wanted the open relationship. I went to his house to start a fight. When I wouldn’t leave, she rightly maced me to make me leave. I called her a psycho even though I was the one harassing them constantly.
I thought he was wrong for getting a restraining order even though I was the aggressor. And I blamed Tik Tok for all of it. I posted another update. The restraining order had been filed.
I wasn’t allowed within 100 feet of my ex, Harry, or his new girlfriend, Jess. I was planning to move back to my home in Arizona and start over. I said they were happy and I just wanted to find peace with myself. I admitted I was already in therapy and still in therapy.
I told anyone my age or younger to listen to my advice: delete Tik Tok. It did me nothing but harm. I said other people’s stupidity can poison your mind. I said I was living proof.
The comments didn’t let up. One person summarized the whole saga perfectly. I wanted an open relationship. He said yes but told me if he felt a connection with someone else, he would do the right thing and break things off rather than have an emotional affair.
I agreed. He felt a connection with someone else. He was upfront with me about wanting to end things. I blamed wanting the open relationship on my ADHD because I was bored.
I tried to claim he cheated when I asked for this. I went to his house to start a fight. When I wouldn’t leave, she rightfully maced me. I called her a psycho even though I harassed them constantly.
I thought he was wrong for getting a restraining order even though I was the aggressor. And I blamed Tik Tok for my actions. Did that sum it up? They asked.
Another person pointed out that the algorithm didn’t make me search for open relationships. The idea was already in my head before Tik Tok showed me anything. They said anyone impressionable enough to use Tik Tok for life’s most important choices was someone whose maturity was stunted. I hated it.
Two years later, at 27, I was still suffering. I tried to stay offline and live my life, but my ex and his now-wife found new ways to live in my head rent-free. I wanted an open relationship. So what?
He didn’t have to string me along for eight months, get some new girl who he met through me, and then marry her. This wasn’t fair. She was living in my home with someone who should be my husband. And he had been renewing the restraining order ever since it first expired.
I knew he was going to keep doing it. For reasons beyond my knowledge, the man hated me. The comments came back with more brutal clarity. He was visibly unhappy when I wanted the open relationship.
I was making plans to date while he was making plans for his future and his dignity. He said if I insisted and he got feelings for someone, he would dump me. He fell in love. I got dumped.
I harassed him and his new girlfriend by showing up at their apartment. I considered her yelling at me to hurry up as inciting a physical fight, which ended in me being rightfully maced. One person said it plainly: I was delusional and a threat. That’s why he hated me.
That’s why he kept renewing the restraining order. They said I needed serious professional help and I wouldn’t find it on the internet. They were right that I tried to force a situation that was already over. I asked for an open relationship.
He made it clear he would leave if he developed feelings. That’s exactly what happened. I set the stage for him to move on, and now I was upset because he did exactly what he said he would do. I had no one to blame but myself.
And then there was the other story. A very different kind of betrayal. This one wasn’t about open relationships or Tik Tok or restraining orders. It was about a Mormon bishop, a cheating wife, and thirty years of lies.
This happened years ago, but I’ve seen others go through it recently. Mormon bishops receive almost no professional training. They’re instructed to follow the spirit when dealing with infidelity, along with a bunch of archaic handbook rules that don’t fit any scenario in the modern world. It’s a recipe for disaster.
My wife, then 32, confessed to the bishop that she had caught feelings for a study partner at university. She told him the other man felt the same for her. The bishop’s advice? Stay in the study group and exercise self-discipline.
Pray at least twice a day. Meet with the bishop monthly so he could monitor the situation. Three weeks later, after a group study session at the other man’s home, everyone else left. The affair turned physical.
I had my suspicions, but I didn’t know any of this until it was too late. And my wife told me the bishop instructed her to confess the infidelity to me. I felt all the normal feelings: betrayed, humiliated, angry, heartbroken, hateful, insecure, embarrassed. All of it.
Here’s the problem in Mormonism: divorce is similar to spiritual suicide. You can’t get to heaven without your spouse. And I had never seen a Mormon bishop recommend divorce when someone cheats. Not once.
In my years of leadership, the bishop usually shares this information with a small inner circle of leaders — which could include your neighbors and your friends. You never know who knows the details of what happened. Church discipline is inconsistent. We call it bishop roulette.
You might get a bishop who throws the book at your spouse and excommunicates them with all the public embarrassment. Or worse, he gives them a slap on the wrist and says, “Don’t let it happen again. ” You have no idea what will come from a simple confession. And then there was the advice about my anger.
The bishop told me strong emotions like anger, hatred, and rage come from the devil. I had to suppress them or I’d be in the devil’s power. That’s terrible advice. What I’ve learned since is that renouncing your feelings ties you to them forever.
You have to embrace them before you can release them. Religion asks you to sacrifice and renounce all the bad feelings toward people in the process of forgiveness. It doesn’t work. It leads to internal fighting and puts enormous energy into denying the feelings.
I wasn’t able to release these feelings until I embraced them fully. Felt all the feels. Only then could I let them go. The bishop also told me I must forgive the spouse and the transgressor almost immediately.
He said if I didn’t forgive them, I wouldn’t be forgiven for my own transgressions. Three days after I found out, I met with the bishop and told him honestly that I wanted to murder the other man. His advice? Approach him and tell him you forgive him.
Ask him nicely to please leave your wife and family alone. I actually followed that advice. It destroyed what little self-respect I had left. Of course, the guy had zero respect for me at that point.
The next day, I came home and found a note on my door addressed to my wife. It was from him, asking her to meet him at his house to talk. She had gone no contact with him. Apparently, asking nicely isn’t very effective when two people are in a full-blown physical affair.
The bishop also told my wife not to reveal any details to me about what had happened and why. Honestly, I think he was worried I would find out that he had known about the emotional affair all along, that he had instructed my wife not to say anything to me, and that he never advised her to flee the situation. This left me vulnerable. Other people in the ward knew about the emotional affair before I did.
I can only imagine what they thought of me — clueless, while even they knew the truth. It’s been years, but because of the religious indoctrination, I didn’t recover from the trauma until recently. I stayed in the relationship, holding on to all the anger and rage. That wasn’t fair to my wife either.
She had to live with a very angry man for years. We remained together and actually healed the relationship through me working on myself and going to therapy. Trust was restored through communication and honesty. But there was a catch.
A big one. Thirty years later, new details still trickle out. We were at a large dinner party with friends. A close friend told a hilarious story about something that happened on a group European trip — a trip I couldn’t attend because of work.
The story was about an embarrassing incident involving my wife and her affair partner. Our friends are clueless. They know nothing about the affair. To them, it was just a funny wardrobe malfunction story.
But the European trip happened months after I discovered the affair. I was promised there would be no contact between the two of them during that trip. Another lie. Another blow-up fight.
Thirty years after reconciliation, my self-esteem was once again thrown to the curb. This wasn’t the first time the truth came out accidentally. It seemed to happen at least once every four or five years, making my life a living hell. During the argument, everything was rehashed and she denied several things she had already admitted to long ago.
It’s hard to keep your story straight. Memories fade. But every detail is burned in my mind like a steel trap. I can’t forget, no matter how much I would love to.
I feel like a fool. I’m very vulnerable right now. When my wife had the affair, I did everything wrong. There was no internet then.
No subs to ask for advice. Only terrible advice from religious leaders. I did the pick-me dance. I hid the affair from family and friends.
I wanted details and thought I was told the truth. But no. I filed for divorce today. Now I’m the bad guy.
Our adult children and extended family don’t know anything about the past infidelity, the lies, the damage. Everyone is pissed at me for leaving mom. Even if I outed my wife, I’d look like a fool for staying so long. Let bygones be bygones.
But people don’t understand how trickle truth reopens that wound again and again and again. I’m done. Let me give you some thoughts on reconciliation. Leaving your spouse for infidelity has a short shelf life.
You should consider leaving first and reconciliation second. You can leave a cheater and not be the villain. Wait too long and you look like a fool or someone who abandons your spouse. It never goes away.
Your relationship will never be the same. What was hard for me was feeling selfish for leaving her. Impacting the children. Taking the social hit.
I never thought about myself and the impact it had on my life. My self-esteem never recovered. It hurt my career. It impacted all of my relationships, not just my marriage.
The underlying anger was always there. And my wife had to live with that for decades. Surprisingly, when I filed for divorce, the anger disappeared. I’m not even angry with her anymore.
It’s very hard, but it feels like I’m finally doing the right thing. I know I come across as a fool, but please don’t judge me too harshly. Her affair wasn’t just about having sex with another man — although that destroyed a part of me. It was about the lack of loyalty.
The lack of consideration for how it would affect me. It was about all the lies necessary to carry on the affair and the continued deception that went on for years. The whole “pray and try to exercise self-discipline” approach was a way to dodge the real issues and avoid confronting the damage that had been done. I met with my attorney, my accountant, and my financial adviser.
I filed for divorce. I fired our marriage counselor — the one we’d been seeing for years for my anger issues. Go figure. I’m in personal therapy now.
I moved my belongings to a storage unit and have a new home cross-country ready for me in a few weeks. My anger has evaporated. My self-esteem is improving. I’m hopeful for the future for the first time in many years.
Many people ask about my wife’s status. I’d say she’s devastated, sad, shocked, and confused that a lie she told 30 years ago is ending her marriage at this late date. Sometimes it even sounds crazy to me. But this is what trickle truth does to a relationship.
If you’ve ever been betrayed, you understand how painful and damaging it is to find another lie and another lie over the years. Any trust built through reconciliation gets tossed out the window. It’s D-Day all over again. There’s a part I’m fearful to admit.
Most people told me to out my wife’s infidelity to our children and friends to avoid taking the heat myself for the divorce. Please forgive me, but I don’t think it’s in my best interest to do that. I’ll explain why. I’m an older man.
I’m used to taking the heat. I don’t care deeply what our friends think of me. They know me. If how they feel about me changes because of divorce, they weren’t that great of friends in the first place.
The ones who’ve asked, I told them I’ve been unhappy for years and I’m no longer willing to continue. I do care what my children and grandchildren think of me. But I believe if I told them the truth, they would say, “That was long ago. Why can’t you forgive and move on?
” Like I said before, if you know, you know. If you haven’t experienced betrayal, you just don’t get it. They would be upset with me regardless. They would be more upset with my wife.
I don’t know how they’d react toward her — possibly even alienating her from the grandchildren she loves deeply. I’m really tired. What I need right now is rest and peace. Creating drama so people will look more favorably on me just doesn’t work for me.
It’s not who I am. A lot of angry people in the comments want my wife to be punished. They want her humiliated. Being divorced at 63 is no small thing.
She swept the affair under the rug, yes. But she is devastated now by the scope of the damage her lies have done. She minimized her role and will never admit anything. But she hasn’t actively made me look bad to friends and family for leaving.
If she goes into attack mode and starts badmouthing me, I will be forced to play the cards I hold. I’ve told her this. I’m primarily interested in my own healing. After much consideration, I don’t think outing her would help me heal.
I hold a lot of shame for staying as long as I did. But I’m working with my therapist on those issues. I’ve had a few weeks to let this settle in my mind. There’s an important concept to learn from my experience.
First, reconciliation is hard, painful, and almost impossible to accomplish even under the best circumstances. I used to be a proponent of reconciliation. No more. It took me 30 years to reach the point where I can honestly say I’m primarily interested in my own healing.
If you’ve been cheated on and you can’t make that statement with confidence, you aren’t ready for reconciliation. Second, trickle truthing is one of the most heinous forms of abuse you can do to your partner. It leaves your partner in a constant state of uncertainty. It destroys their ability to trust.
It places the emotional burden on them. And it exploits their desire for reconciliation. Also, it protects your ego and shelters you from the consequences of your poor behavior. If you take this route, you’re an abuser.
My divorce was finalized last month. The process took six months total, but it seemed much longer. I’m happier. I have more confidence.
I love myself a lot more since separating from my ex-wife. The financial impact was difficult but worth it. Surprisingly, I’m doing very well. For years, I was a huge advocate for marriage.
I believed reconciliation was the first option and absolutely doable. I no longer believe this. True reconciliation is rare and only successful under the best conditions with utter transparency. Here’s what I’ve witnessed.
The wayward partner wants to reconcile and put the past behind them. They’re quick to forgive themselves and move on. Happiness is a short reach for them. The betrayed spouse has a completely different experience.
Small lies cause them to go cross-eyed. Almost always they are traumatized. Deeply hurt. They are walking wounded.
Happiness is fleeting at best. Since our separation, I’ve had numerous discussions with counselors and therapists. They insist the loyal partner doesn’t need to know the details of the infidelity. They believe healing is faster and more complete if you don’t reveal everything.
I couldn’t disagree more. First, the loyal spouse needs to make a decision: should I stay or should I leave? If material facts are hidden, even for their protection, how can they make an informed decision? I’m convinced that cheating is a character flaw.
If your partner can’t be forthright with what happened, that’s another flaw. If they’re still being deceptive even after being exposed, that’s strike three. They’ve already shown you through their actions who they are and what they’re capable of. If you can’t trust their words, where’s the foundation to start reconciliation?
The rare case I witnessed where reconciliation succeeded had all of these characteristics. The cheater came forward about the affair — it wasn’t exposed by an outside source. The cheater ended the relationship on their own with finality. The cheater took drastic steps to make sure there wouldn’t be further contact with the affair partner — she quit her job.
The cheater initiated individual and couples therapy. They didn’t wait for the loyal spouse to find a counselor. The cheater provided a detailed timeline with names, places, and how it happened. The cheater turned over passwords and complete access to their phone, email, and social media.
The cheater revealed to friends and family the nature of the affair and took responsibility. And the cheater answered questions that arose even months later when the spouse felt insecure. Each of these steps is very difficult. It amounts to the stars aligning for your relationship to survive.
This is why I now believe the first choice should be: I’m leaving. Prove to me why I should stay. Ultimately, the decision to stay or go is up to you. Just don’t believe the fallacy that your relationship will ever be the same again.
That relationship is dead. Can you build a new one? Perhaps. But it seems that most people eventually regret staying with a cheater.
There are lots of reasons to stay. I’ve heard them all. There is one really good reason to leave.
Self-respect.
