by Kris Olds

Created on: February 13, 2009   Last Updated: February 19, 2009

One of the most terrifying things that can occur is waking up one morning and realizing that you are married to the wrong person. This has happened thousands of times the world over. There is nothing particularly special or unique about this horrible revelation. That is, unless you realize that you are not actually married to the wrong person. You are married to the wrong gender.

Seven years ago, this was my morning. I had married the nicest guy I could imagine. We were the best of friends. We had a comfortable life that was full of travel and companionship. In marrying him, I knew I was marrying someone that I would always feel safe with and who would be a great partner. I was willing to sacrifice on the passion component because I knew no relationship could be perfect and this was something that just wasn't there between us.

In hindsight, I was an idiot. That's a bit harsh. I was a fool. I knew that I was attracted to women. I had, in fact, dated both men and women prior to meeting my then husband. When he and I started dating, I was so overwhelmed at how calm he was and how safe he made me feel. I thought I could compartmentalize my attraction to women as a part of my dating past. I really wanted to be married to him. I tried very hard. And then there came a time where I started to realize how unhappy I was. I had began to drink quite a bit and was making other choices that weren't very healthy. He noticed and in a late night conversation that started with him asking me if I was depressed, he asked the question that would change my life. He asked me if I was gay. Through my sobs, I nodded. I didn't know how to tell him. But in that moment of him asking, I knew it was my chance to be honest. He cried as well but wasn't angry or hurt. He loved me and he wanted me to be happy. I couldn't ask for a better response.

For a few days, we didn't talk about it. We went on our merry, and married, ways. But I could think of nothing else. I knew that admitting my sexual identity to him would mean some changes. So rather than wait for him to bring it up, I started the conversation. We quickly, and painfully, decided that separating would be the best course of action. As I helped him pack, I started to think about how I would tell my friends and family about this change that would soon be so apparent. Initially, I thought I could keep it all hidden away. That no one needed to know the real reason why we were parting ways. It was private and we could tell people that. But

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