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Forced Bi Story
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When I got home that night my wife served dinner. I held her hand and said, "I've got something to tell you." She sat down and ate quietly. Again I observed the hurt in her eyes.
Suddenly I didn't know how to open my mouth. But I had to let her know what I was thinking about divorce. I raised the topic calmly. She didn't seem to be annoyed by my words, instead she asked me softly, "Why?"
I avoided her question. This made her angry. She threw away the chopsticks and shouted at me, "You are not a man!"
That night, we didn't talk to each other. She was weeping. I knew she wanted to find out what had happened to our marriage. But I could hardly give her a satisfactory answer; she had lost my heart to Jane. I didn't love her anymore, I just pitied her.
With a deep sense of guilt, I drafted a divorce agreement which stated that she could own our house, our car, and 30% of my company. She glanced at it and then tore it to pieces. The woman who had spent ten years of her life with me had become a stranger. I felt sorry for her wasted time, resources, and energy but I could not take back what I had said. I loved Jane now.
Finally she cried loudly in front of me, which was what I had expected to see. To me her cry was actually a kind of release. The idea of divorce which had obsessed me for several weeks seemed to be firmer and clearer now.
The next day, I came home late and found her writing something at the table. I didn't have supper but went straight to sleep and fell asleep very fast after an eventful day with Jane. When I woke up, she was still at the table writing.
In the morning she presented her divorce conditions. She didn't want anything from me, but needed a month's notice before the divorce. She requested that in that one month, we both struggle to live as normal a life as possible. Her reasons were simple; our son had his exams in a month's time and she didn't want to disrupt him with our broken marriage.
This was agreeable to me, but she had something more. She asked me to recall how I had carried her into out bridal room on our wedding day. She requested that every day for the month's duration, I carry her out of our bedroom to the front door every morning. I thought she was going crazy, but just to make our last days together bearable, I accepted her odd request.
I told Jane about my wife's divorce conditions. She laughed loudly and thought it was absurd. "No matter what tricks she applies, she has to face the divorce," she said scornfully.
My wife and I hadn't had any physical contact since my divorce intention was explicitly expressed. So when I carried her out on the first day, we both appeared clumsy. Our son clapped behind us, "Daddy is holding Mommy in his arms."
His words brought me a sense of pain. From the bedroom to the living room and to the door, I walked over ten meters with her in my arms. She closed her eyes and said softly, "Don't tell our son about the divorce."
I nodded, feeling somewhat upset. I put her down outside the door. She went to wait for the bus. I drove alone to the office.
On the second day, both of us acted much more easily. She leaned on my chest. I could smell the fragrance of her blouse. I realized that I hadn't looked at this woman carefully for a long time. I realized she was not young any more. There were fine wrinkles on her face, her hair was graying. Our marriage had taken its toll on her, and for a minute, I wondered what I had done to her.
On the fourth day, when I lifted her up, I felt a sense of intimacy returning. This was the woman who had given ten years of her life to me. On the fifth and sixth day, I realized that our sense of intimacy was growing. I didn't tell Jane about this. It became easier to carry her as the month slipped by. Perhaps the everyday workout made me stronger.
She was choosing what to wear one morning. She tried on quite a few dresses but could not find a suitable one. Then she sighed, "All my dresses have grown bigger." I suddenly realized that she had grown so thin, and that was the reason why I could carry her more easily.
Suddenly it hit me. She had buried so much pain and bitterness in her heart. Subconsciously I reached out and touched her head.
Our son came in at the moment and said, "Dad, it's time to carry mom out." To him, seeing his father carrying his mother out had become an essential part of his life. My wife gestured to our son to come closer and hugged him tightly. I turned my face away because I was afraid I might change my mind at this last minute. I then held her in my arms, walking from the bedroom, through the living room, and to the hallway. Her hand surrounded my neck softly and naturally. I held her body tightly, just like on our wedding day.
But her much lighter weight made me sad. On the last day, when I held her in my arms I could hardly move a step. Our son had gone to school. I held her tightly and said, "I hadn't noticed that our life lacked intimacy."
I drove to office, jumped out of the car swiftly without locking the door. I was afraid any delay would make me change my mind. I walked upstairs. Jane opened the door. "Sorry, Jane, I do not want the divorce anymore."
She looked at me, astonished, and then touched my forehead. "Do you have a fever?" she replied.
I moved her hand off my head. "Sorry, Jane," I said. "I won't divorce. My marriage life was boring probably because she and I didn't value the details of our lives, not because we didn't love each other anymore. Now I realize that since I carried her into my home on our wedding day, I am supposed to hold her until death do us apart."
Jane seemed to suddenly wake up. She gave me a loud slap and then slammed the door and burst into tears. I walked downstairs and drove away. At the floral shop on the way, I ordered a bouquet of flowers for my wife. The saleswoman asked me what to write on the card. I smiled and wrote, "I'll carry you out every morning until death do us apart."
That evening I arrived home, flowers in my hands, a smile on my face. I ran up the stairs only to find my wife in the bed – dead. My wife had been fighting cancer for months, but I was too busy with Jane to even notice. She knew that she would die soon and wanted to save me from any negative reaction from our son, in case we push through with the divorce. At least, in the eyes of our son, I'm a loving husband.
The small details of your lives are what really matter in a relationship. It's not the mansion, the car, property, the money in the bank. These create an environment conducive for happiness but cannot give happiness in themselves.
So find time to be your spouse's friend and do those little things for each other that build intimacy. Have a real happy marriage!
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If your boyfriend ever tells you that he thinks he’s gay, don’t offer to help him find a guy to experimentally make out with. It’s a losing battle.
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I have grown up believing that while moments in our life may not define us, they certainly do give meaning to the lives we lead. So today, I am going to share with you the story of how I turned my very first boyfriend gay.
Okay, so maybe that isn’t exactly how it happened. I have no doubt that I came long after any self-doubt he might have had about his sexuality, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t feel as though I played a part in it.
Our relationship blossomed my junior year of high school after an accidental introduction via a mutual friend. It took all of two weeks before our shared smiley face texts were replaced with crooked hearts and an endless number of X’s and O’s. After that, for months — on and off — we shared lovey dovey chit chat, mindless adolescent Facebook hacking (note: don’t ever share personal passwords with anyone — EVER) and gag-worthy stories of one another with less-than-amused friends. We finally met in person for the first time at my junior semi-formal and I still remember every waking moment — it had been the greatest night of my life.
As a first time relationship often does, it made the world a blur of rose-coloured bliss in my eyes. I felt alive, wanted, untouchable. The chubby, short, teenage version of myself whose hair was an awkward length and whose boobs were the size of overgrown cantaloupes finally felt a sense of belonging with a guy who lived 30 minutes away by car and had the anatomical build of a sexy green bean. Life seemed perfect.
But after a couple of months, things got worse. Promises were being made and not kept. Our friends got sick of the lovebird mania. Parents tried to subtly intervene. Slowly but surely, my little slice of heaven was being reduced to a few crumbs of adolescent mediocrity. I was a wreck. But even all that paled in comparison to the tsunami of shock that was about to drown my crappy, little island of self-pity.
A few months and another break up later, a sporadic, yet fairly normal, text messaging conversation turned into one of the strangest phone calls I have ever had. My tall, sexy, master of many accents green bean boyfriend told me that he was gay.
My first thought was, “Gay? Like happy?” God, did I pray he meant happy. But deep down I knew he was trying to tell me he didn’t really love me anymore. In my mind, all I really heard was, “forever alone”.
Now, let me just offer you all a piece of advice right off the bat in case you ever find yourself in this situation (there are more of you, right…?). If your boyfriend ever tells you that he thinks he’s gay, don’t offer to help him find a guy to experimentally make out with. It’s a losing battle. It’s also sounds ridiculously embarrassing when you play it back in your head a billion times over.
The relationship ended then and there. Shortly after, it experienced a little turbulence post-lovebird stage and eventually led to a fatal crash which ended all contact until just recently. It turns out his best friend from high school ended up being my best friend from university so he’s been around a lot more lately. I’m sure that sounds a little odd to you all, and trust me, I’m still a little uncomfortable with it myself, but bear with me here because I’m going to share with you the very eye-opening lessons I’ve learned from all of this.
He wants to love you. He just can’t. The first thing my ex-boyfriend told me when we were back on relatively normal speaking terms was that he wished he liked girls. This made me realize that even though I wasn’t what he was looking for, it spoke nothing of who I was as a person.
Remember, you’re still an amazing person — you just don’t have the preferred appendages for the package deal.
Don’t try to ‘fix’ or ‘change’ him. It’s not fair to you, and it sure as hell isn’t fair to him. Would you want someone trying to sell you on the benefits of lovin’ lady lips? Probably not. Just let bygones be bygones and consider it a life lesson.
It’s okay to keep anything they might have given you, lent you or forgotten at your house. Don’t feel guilty, or let anyone else make you feel guilty, for wanting to keep something that reminds you of a happy memory you shared with them. My classic Winnie the Pooh teddy has given me many a midnight cuddle when I’ve needed him most.
It’s not the end of the world if he’s seen you naked. Don’t get me wrong, I still find it a little weird to engage in “he’s so hot” talks with a guy who has seen me in my skivvies but I’ve also come to terms with the fact that he’d sooner brag to his friends about the butt on that buff, blonde bartender with 5 o’clock shadow than my lady bits.
Don’t label yourself an experiment. God knows I resent being used as a guinea pig to test out someone’s sexuality, but I try to remind myself that he was no more aware of what was going on with himself than I was. It was all like sitting beside a stranger on a rollercoaster. We just both happened to be along for the ride together.
You are the best thing that will ever happen to him. EVER. You are the last stop between self-doubt and self-discovery. You are the person who tips the scales and frees a person’s soul from all the wondering and worry they’ve experienced. My ex-boyfriend has apologized for the many bumps in the road we encountered while on our journey, but he’s also thanked me for being there for him and offering to help when I could.
It’s important to remind yourself that regardless of what someone else may be going through, they’re the ones who are lost and not you. Don’t run away. They may not need you for a loving relationship and they sure as hell don’t need you to find them one, but they will definitely need you for support. No matter what your sexual orientation, always remember: be a friend.
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