My wife stood in our kitchen on Sunday, November 11th, 2018 and told me that after 15 years of marriage that she was never in love with me.
Somehow a discussion about some shoes she had been given as a gift turned into a two-hour confessional about her real feelings about me.
I know it happened. I know I was there. I know it was my wife saying those words. But somehow none of it seemed real. She seemed like a stranger. Her face was familiar, but I didn’t recognize what was behind her eyes anymore. Her voice was hers, but the words she said sounded like she was being fed a speech through a hidden earpiece.
She was somebody else.
As the weeks unfolded, she seemed less and less like the woman I had spent a decade and a half with, and more like some kind of android or shapeshifter that had taken her place, while the real her had left in the mothership.
With the foundation of my life suddenly pulled out from under me, I quickly started questioning everything I thought was real. She said she had no romantic feelings for me. She said we have no chemistry. She said she didn’t miss me when we were apart. She said she’s not bothered by the thought of me with other women. She said I had never gotten her sexually aroused.
Fifteen fucking years.
Nothing was making any sense. I was in shock. I had so many questions, but for a couple of days all I could do was sit in a chair and stare. I was living an episode of The Twilight Zone and some pod person had come and replaced my wife.
Maybe I never really knew her. I guess it was all an act. She didn’t have the guts to say no when I proposed, so she perfected her acting chops and pretended to be a loving, supportive wife. But that’s not who she is, I guess. At least not for me. She wants someone else. She wants to be a part-time parent. She wants to be free.
I don’t know her anymore – and I don’t want to.
Today, to be divorced means feeling duped.