I (38F) never thought I’d be writing this. Throwaway account for obvious reasons.
Three months ago, my husband Jake (40M) sat me down after the kids were asleep and said he needed to talk about “evolving our relationship.” I remember the exact words because I’ve replayed them about a thousand times since. He said he loved me, but he’d been thinking about this for years—he wanted to open our marriage. Not divorce. Not separation. Just “freedom to explore while maintaining our foundation.”
I laughed. I actually laughed. Fifteen years of marriage, two kids, a mortgage, and he wanted to date other people? But he wasn’t joking. He had this whole speech prepared about how monogamy was a social construct, how we could be more honest, how it would “strengthen our bond.” He even had articles bookmarked.
Here’s the thing though—I didn’t fight it. Everyone expected me to scream or cry or throw him out. Instead, I said okay.
He looked shocked. Like he’d prepared for an argument and I’d just… agreed.
So we set rules. We could each pursue other relationships, but family came first. No overnights when the kids were home. Full transparency about who we were seeing. STI tests every three months. Very mature. Very modern. Very fucking stupid of him.
The first month, Jake was on dating apps immediately. I watched him swipe through his phone at night, grinning like a teenager. He went on four dates in the first two weeks. Came home each time complaining that “dating has changed so much” and “women in their thirties are so serious.” I made him coffee each morning and asked how his dates went. I was still playing the supportive wife.
I didn’t start dating right away. I needed to think. But I updated my profile on a whim one night after Jake texted that he’d be home late—he’d met someone who “really got him.” Her name was Amber. She was 29. He sent me a selfie of them at a bar.
That’s when I matched with David (41M).
Our first date was supposed to be coffee. It turned into four hours at a bookstore café where we talked about everything—our divorces (he’d been through one), our kids (he had two), our careers, what we wanted from life. He didn’t mention sex once. He asked about my favorite book and actually remembered the title two days later when he texted me a quote from it.
By date three, I realized I hadn’t felt this seen in years. Maybe ever.
Jake was still seeing Amber. He’d stay out until 1 AM on Saturdays. I’d hear him come in, shower, and slip into bed next to me. He’d kiss my forehead. I’d pretend to be asleep.
But here’s where it gets complicated—David wasn’t just a rebound. We talked every day. He showed up when my car broke down at 6 AM without me even asking. He remembered that I hate roses but love peonies. When I told him I was still living with my husband, he said, “I’m not here to rush you. I’m just here.”
Last month, Jake came home early from a date. He found me on the couch reading, and he sat down next to me with this weird energy.
Him: “How’s your… dating going?”
Me: “Good. Really good actually.”
Him: “Like… you’re seeing someone?”
Me: “Yeah. David. I’ve mentioned him.”
Him: “How many times have you guys…?”
Me: “That’s not really within our transparency rules. We said who, not details.”
Him: “Right. But like… is it serious?”
I looked at him. His hands were shaking slightly. “I don’t know yet. Maybe.”
He got quiet. Then he said, “Amber and I broke up. She wanted something more serious and I’m married, so.”
I nodded. Made a sympathetic sound. Went back to my book.
The next week, Jake asked if we could have a date night. Just us. I said I had plans with David. Jake said, “Can you cancel?” I said no.
When I came home that night—at 11 PM, perfectly within our rules—Jake was still up. Waiting.
Him: “I think we should talk about closing the marriage.”
Me: “Why?”
Him: “Because I miss you. I miss us.”
Me: “We’re still us. We’re still married.”
Him: “But you’re different. You’re distant.”
Me: “I’m dating. Like you asked.”
Him: “I didn’t think you’d actually—”
He stopped himself. But I heard what he didn’t say: I didn’t think you’d actually find someone.
That was two weeks ago. Since then, Jake has been trying. He brings me coffee in the morning again. He asks about my day, really asks. He scheduled a couple’s therapy session without telling me, then sheepishly admitted it and asked if I’d come. I said I’d think about it.
But here’s what he doesn’t know: David asked me to go away with him next weekend. Just two days. His kids would be with his ex, mine would be with my mom. He said he wanted to take me somewhere I could breathe.
I haven’t said yes yet. But I haven’t said no.
I look at Jake now and I see someone who took fifteen years of stability for granted. Who thought I’d always be here, waiting, loyal, while he figured out what he wanted. He thought opening the marriage would be this adventure for him, and I’d just… wait.
But I’m not waiting anymore. I don’t even know if I’m angry. I’m just… awake. For the first time in years, I feel like I have options that are mine, not ours.
Jake keeps asking to talk. He keeps saying we were “hasty” and we should “pump the brakes.” I keep thinking about how he looked three months ago, grinning at his phone while Amber texted him. How he kissed my forehead after coming home from her place. How he never once asked if I was okay with any of it—he just assumed I’d accept it.
Now he’s terrified I’ll actually leave. And maybe I will.
Or maybe I’ll keep the door open. Just like he asked.
AITA for not wanting to close the marriage now that I’m the one who’s found someone?
Edit: Some people are asking what I actually want. Honest answer? I don’t know yet. For 15 years, I made every decision with “we” in mind. What we needed. What was best for us. I don’t even know what I want anymore. And that terrifies me as much as it excites me.
