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I would sit by the side of the pool, maybe dangle my feet in it, or slowly wade in on occasion to play with the kids. But I watched this man I had loved over half my life, and I saw that he was filled with shame, confusion and pain.

It was very much the classic middle-class suburban cliche, except for the twist that he was cheating on me with another man. In between bouts of crying in the shower, sleepless nights and reading every self-help book sold on AmazonI decided that if Stuart was gay, I could be his best friend ex-wife and we could have this big gay family.

While we raised our children with the understanding that love is love so much so that they both felt the need to come out to us as straightI did not ever imagine the queer person in the family would be my husband. Not proud of it, would not do it again if I could turn back time.

So I made the choice to figure out our way forward with him.

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Just before the holidays inI was convinced that my husband was in the throes of a midlife crisis, and I discovered he was having an affair. I always knew I was smart, but when it came to how I felt about myself in general, my self-esteem was in the crapper even more so since learning my husband was having sex with a year-old ex-model.

Then he semi-moved to a larger, nearby city to explore. I helped create his online dating profile, took sexy pictures of him to upload, and sent him advice articles on gay relationships. I cheated because I was closeted and too scared and cowardly to admit I like men.

But there was something about this night. I told myself that cheating with men was something I needed to figure out on my own and that I didnt have to risk losing my gf by telling her about my struggles and Questions.

Cheaters Are Sharing The Reasons They Were Unfaithful To Their Partners, And The Answers Range From Complex To Surprisingly Simple "If you’re unhappy in your relationship, do the work that will. I often credit yoga with saving my life.

Treading water, my husband Stuart smiled encouragingly, patiently. So while Stuart dated, I got to work on myself. It was warm, and our Airbnb had an amazing pool with views of the Napa Valley hills and vineyards.

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I started a new regimen of meditation, self-help books and readings on Buddhism. It was very much the classic middle-class suburban cliche, except for the twist that he was cheating on me with another man. But more importantly, and much harder, I had to do the work so I could honestly say that I loved myself more than I loved our marriage.

While we raised our children with the understanding that love is love (so much so that they both felt the need to come out to us as straight), I did not ever imagine the queer person in the family would be my husband.

This was not the case as I helped Stuart pack his suitcase. I also began a daily exercise routine and a more serious yoga practice. I made sure my children took swim lessons, and that they could fearlessly, joyfully cannonball off the diving board and splash with their friends while I cheered from the sidelines.

We had been married for 27 years, and for most of that time, he understood that I just did not like being in the pool. And yes, of course, I was in therapy with Stuart and also on my own. I stood at the edge of the pool with my toes gripping the cold stone.

Yet I never joined in. For most summers when our children were young, we belonged to the neighborhood swim club. In FebruaryStuart took off his wedding ring and gave it to me for safekeeping.