Queer content, male misery 

Since I don't know anyone here, and I don't think I have any followers, maybe I can type out some shit that dominates my thoughts day and night.

~15 years ago I married a woman. I'm what you'd call cis-het. She is not. She didn't hide that from me; she told me she'd had some passionate relationships with women. She told me she was bisexual. We discussed it. This was a big deal because we were both, at the time, faithful members of a conservative Christian church.

Queer content, male misery 

We weren't very conservative, but we believed and we tried our best to be good people as defined by that gospel.

Anyway, we fell in love. Or that's what I thought (this is one of those "oh noes was it all a lie?" things, but I don't think it was all a lie, but it certainly wasn't what it seemed). I stayed in love. She didn't, or perhaps never really was.

She moved to another country to be with me (eventually). I gave up a lot of career opportunities. We had a child.

Queer content, male misery 

Within a year or so I knew something was off. She just wasn't that into me. She wasn't excited about intimacy, in short. Not just sex (though that was part of it); any kind. I know I'm hard to live with, but she knew that well before we got married. Now it seemed she wanted less and less to do with me.

I attributed this to stress, adjustment to a new community and job, then being a new mother, and always depression and SSRIs, which fuck relationships up.

Queer content, male misery 

It wasn't just that she didn't want to hear my (excessive, TBH; I know who I am) chatter about life, random topics, etc.; she didn't want to share her life, either. This led to things boiling over every 6-12 months; I'd get really upset, say stupid things, ask her what the hell she even thought of our relationship, etc. She'd get very, very quiet, say nothing, cry, and we'd avoid talking for a day or so.

I have spent the majority of 15 years pretty unhappy with us.

Queer content, male misery 

What about her, right? Well, I don't fucking know. I have no idea what she thinks or feels about our relationship, except what I can infer from behavior patterns and hints.

Weirdly, this doesn't mean we were always unhappy, or even mostly. I was unhappy about our relationship most of the time because I loved her and wanted her, and wasn't getting anything like matching signals back (though she would often say she did, too... but there wasn't much nonverbal evidence).

Queer content, male misery 

And our daughter, oh god. I've never loved a human more in my life. I never thought I'd be so floored by a little human. I have turned into a kind of father I didn't think was possible for me. And if you want to see this as a trap, then it's the firmest trap ever; I'll live and die in misery if that's the only way to make her happy and be in her life. Of course, I'm hoping that's not the case.

Anyway, partner and me. I wanted a lot more of her than she wanted of me.

Queer content, male misery 

Maybe that's enough of my whining (for now). Fast-forward to 2019. We've both been gone from our former church (hers for a decade or so, mine for 40+ years) for five or six years, and it's a relief for both of us but also a source of great stress for me; it's the center point of my family of origin and if I have a heritage, that's it. Kind of sucks to flush all that away, even when nothing else makes sense.

Partner is working (she's an academic). Finally gets a FT job.

Queer content, male misery 

That's a miracle, BTW, in case you're not familiar with N. American academia these days. We previously moved away from my dream career so she can be close to her family. My new job kind of sucks, though it gets better after a few years. Partner still struggles with depression, but is also getting the living on. Cultural/art success, career success, great colleagues now, finally back near her family after a few years across the continent, and we bought a house. Settled.

Queer content, male misery 

So now DW kind of starts revisiting identity issues, unknown to me. Around this time, BBC Gentleman Jack happens, and that's the trigger for her.

To her eternal credit, she talks to me about what's going on with her. She's reduced to shaking and tears by every episode. She identifies with Anne Lister so hard she seems a bit frightened sometimes. We start having the best conversations of our marriage: intimate, raw, real. for the first time, I learn how she feels.

Unfortunately, how she feels is "pretty fucking queer." This isn't a surprise to me, after 15 years. Things add up and get remembered. She has never spoken of any man (including, sadly, me) the way she's spoken of the two women she had intense relationships with before we met. Our sex life followed incredibly familiar heterosexual patterns and I attributed it to SSRIs and us being, you know, people. Luck of the draw. Sucks. Wish she'd try harder, but hard to blame her for neurotransmitter chaos.

The more we talk over the past 2-3 months, however, the more I realize it wasn't standard marital sex-drive mismatch. For one thing, it was never limited to that; I wanted her with all my heart, and she never really returned the sentiment. I had the crushing but confirming experience of hearing her admit that a couple of weeks ago. For another... she's really quite queer, as we are both realizing. We both like soft, delicious women's bodies with roughly the same level of ardor.

She's just not that into me. Maybe she was, briefly, in the passion of a new relationship, but that ended in about 2006.

So is she really bi? I think so. To be indelicate, she really likes some key aspects of me being male, sometimes. But if there's a bisexuality scale, I figure she's about 4/5 way over to the "I like the womens" side.

Does she really love me? Yes. However, I'm not sure how passionately. Certainly not as much as I'd prefer, so I long for her in ways she can't fully satisfy.

And she longs for something I can never provide (me not having a hoo-ha or boobies, not to mention the large amounts of facial and body hair).

And our daughter loves us, and we love her. DW says she isn't crushing on anyone in real life, and I believe her. God knows I'm not. So far, I appear to have been created as a default-sexual-emotional-faithful, serial-monogamy-at-worst, hetero guy. I want and need that pairbond with a woman, but if I have it, I don't (so far) look for side benefits.

I don't see this ending any way but badly. I try in vain to think of an ending that doesn't tear our daughter up for years. It feels like it will destroy me. Every day there's a new horror of "Oh, Fuuuuuck, that's why she did that," or "that's why that never worked," usually boiling down to the soul-crushing realization that I've invested everything I have--emotional, material, financial, opportunities, everything--in a person who was never going to reciprocate, or maybe even stick around.

But beyond this, she's really miserable, too. She feels she's ignored her identity, knuckled under to the expectations of the least laudable groups in our world, and lost her youth in a misguided effort to be as straight as possible, denying the larger part of her passion and self.

I can feel her scanning for options, exploring her new sexual/identity freedom. She has become pretty popular with a (fairly large) group of queer women online since she allowed herself to open up about her sexuality

Did I mention she's hot? God dammit, she is, apparently both to me and a very large number of lesbians and bisexual women. In the online forums she frequents she's had marriage proposals (*mostly* joking, natch), offers of gifts, broad hints of other kinds of propositions, I think, and basically a steady stream of flattery and praise that hits her harder than anything I could ever say.

I can't offer her anything she wants as much as that attention. There's no way this lasts.

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There's no way she stays with me, and the more rational part of my brain realizes that any attempt to try to make her stay is stupid beyond words. Things have sucked for me because they've sucked double for her. She can't be happy, I don't think, being my wife. I hope it lasts a while longer, but who knows? Things move fast.

After a lot of false starts (no, a LOT, and a whole fucking lot of heartache and misery) I found the perfect woman: brilliant, talented, kind, ethical, caring...

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And it's gone. She wasted her opportunities in this marriage, but so did I. Instead of pursuing the career I wanted, I spent years trying to get a job near her family. Instead of finding someone who would love me back, I have loved her. Instead of living with someone who loves me as I am, I've lived with her bare tolerance of my personality and neurological annoyances, unlubricated--I now see--by the greasy goodness of passionate love. Fuck everything about this.

Except that I still love her.

And I will never stop loving our daughter. I will do quite a lot to protect her from this shit, which (it seems to me) is bound to get much more ugly before it ever gets pretty.

I guess I have nothing else to say, right now. I hurt every day from this. I know she does, too. There's no good or even (it seems) tolerable way out of this.

Fuck. My. Life.

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