Twenty-six years ago, I stood in a church hoping I wouldn’t spontaneously combust and held the hands of the most beautiful woman in the world. I looked into her eye and said, “I love you.” I promised to love, honor and cherish her, forsaking all others.
This is the story of how I broke that promise.
I’m a 52-year-old white cisgender male, married to a white, cisgender female also 52. I’ve taken the occasion of the breaking of vows to explore who I am, what I want and who I want. So far, I’ve found that I like women. And men.
polyinfatuated 