On the night of our tenth wedding anniversary, my husband looked across the candlelit table and told me he wanted an open relationship.
For a few seconds, I honestly thought I had misunderstood him.
We were sitting in an expensive restaurant he had chosen for our anniversary. The lights were low, soft music played in the background, and everything around us seemed carefully designed to make a married couple feel romantic and connected.
Instead, Dave was preparing to blow up the life we had built together.
And the strangest part?
I agreed.
Not because I wanted an open marriage.
Not because I suddenly wanted to start dating other men.
I agreed because, in that moment, I realized there might be a lesson Dave desperately needed to learn.
And I had no idea just how quickly that lesson would change everything between us.
Dave and I had been married for ten years.
We had children, a home, routines, memories, arguments, inside jokes, and all the ordinary complications that come with building a life together.
From the outside, we probably looked like a perfectly normal married couple.
But marriage can look very different from the inside.
That night, Dave had insisted we go somewhere special for our anniversary.
The restaurant was swanky, the kind of place where the waiters spoke quietly and every plate looked like it belonged in a magazine.
We had candles on the table.
There was soft music playing.
Our anniversary dinner should have been romantic.
Instead, Dave looked at me and said the words that would change the entire evening.
“So, Felicity,” he began, sounding strangely casual, “I’ve been thinking…”
Now, anyone who knows Dave knows that when he says, I’ve been thinking, it usually means trouble.
This was the same man who once decided it would be a brilliant idea to put up Christmas lights in July because, according to him, “it would save time.”
So naturally, my guard went up.
“Uh-huh?” I replied, trying to keep my voice calm.
But inside, I could already feel anxiety building.
Dave took a sip of his drink.
“You always say you’re tired, and I get it. Taking care of the kids and all. It’s a lot.”
I waited.
Then he continued.
“So, I was thinking, maybe we should open up our relationship.”
I blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Then again.
For a moment, I genuinely wondered whether I had somehow imagined what he had just said.
“Come again?”
Dave leaned forward.
He looked excited, almost proud of the idea.
“Yeah. You know, if I go out and have fun with real women, you can focus on the kids and won’t have to worry about me. It’s a win-win!”
I felt something inside me crack.
“Real women?” I repeated quietly.
“Yeah, you know what I mean.”
He shrugged.
“It would be like a favor to you. Less pressure, right?”
A favor.
That was how he described it.
My husband was sitting across from me on our tenth wedding anniversary, suggesting that he should be allowed to date other women because it would supposedly make my life easier.
I wanted to yell.
I wanted to throw my wine in his face.
I wanted to make the kind of scene people remember long after they leave a restaurant.
But then, just as quickly as the anger arrived, another thought entered my mind.
A much calmer thought.
A much more dangerous one.
I leaned back in my chair and forced a smile.
“You know what, Dave?”
He looked at me.
“You’re right.”
His entire face lit up.
“Really?”
“Absolutely.”
I kept my voice sweet.
“As long as I get to date other people too.”
For just a second, I saw uncertainty flash across his face.
It was there.
Briefly.
But then Dave did what Dave always did.
He brushed it aside.
He laughed.
“Sure, why not?”
Oh, Dave.
Sweet, oblivious Dave.
He had absolutely no idea what he had just agreed to.
A week later, Dave was discovering that the modern dating world was nothing like the fantasy he had imagined.
I would find him sitting on the couch late at night, staring at his phone and swiping left and right through dating apps as though his life depended on it.
Spoiler alert:
It didn’t go well.
“Another one canceled,” he muttered one evening before dropping onto the couch beside me.
I was folding laundry.
I tried very hard to look sympathetic.
I wasn’t.
