I am in love with two men.
It started years ago. My marriage of 11 years, which led to four sons, was wonderful and comfortable and safe. I had trained myself to never look twice at another man out of respect for my husband Aaron. I enjoyed being married to the right man.
And yet here I was, thinking about another man. A man named Jason, who happened to be friends with my husband. I knew Jason was a man of integrity, kindness, and faith. It had been a long time since any man had noticed me, and though I felt guilty, I could not get this handsome man out of my mind. What was wrong with me?
Without telling anyone, I decided to message Jason. There was no harm in that. It was innocent enough. We are friends and friends communicate. Surely he wouldn’t suspect anything. I asked how he was doing and told him what a great friend he was. Trying to play it cool, I told him not to be a stranger as I’d hate to lose contact with him. Reading and rereading my message several times before sending, my heart raced, feeling nervous and not wanting others to know I’d reached out to him.
He actually replied with lighthearted jokes and said he had always admired my marriage and hoped to have something like that in the future.
I read his messages over and over, every time with a smile.
Within days, he asked about dinner, “What about tonight?” My heart pounded. I suddenly had this need to impress my friend and wanted no one to know. Be cool, be cool, be cool. You two are just friends.
I brushed away guilt, allowing excitement about seeing him in person to take over. I could barely focus as I showered, perfumed, and slipped on the perfect tight, sequined top.
Hours later, I was looking across the table at this amazing man I was so drawn to, trying to stay composed as I reminded myself to breathe. It was this magical moment, and I felt the spark. Conversation came effortlessly. I knew there was a connection between us.
As Jason stood to leave, knowing how very late it was, I couldn’t resist hugging him. It had to be obvious I was interested in him. When he drove away, I let out a small squeal of delight since no one was around to witness it. Maybe this was destiny, I pondered as I already thought forward to how I could be with him again.
I was a loyal wife, who only had eyes for my husband Aaron.
Until he died suddenly.
I loved Aaron and would have remained happily married forever. But that August, I was forced from wife to widow, having fulfilled “till death do us part” far earlier than what made sense. The man of my dreams, the father of our children, had become dust.
My marriage was over. Aaron was forever gone.
Divine separation was a lot to process. I leaned into God, asking Him to be my all in all. I cried out to Him, chased Him, and clung to Him.
And the Lover of my soul, in His gracious majesty, gifted me with Jason.
My life was brimming with both pleasure and pain. I would never get over Aaron, nor would I want to. It was an odd feeling to be so drawn to Jason while simultaneously wishing Aaron was here. I’d feel guilty one minute for liking someone who was not my children’s father, then feel enamored the next.
I was not looking to replace the spot my husband left.
I was not trying to pacify my pain. I was not cheating on my husband. I would have stayed married to Aaron for a hundred years.
I was relying on God to have His will done. His good, pleasing, and perfect will.
One night, I cried as I shared with Jason, “I love two men. Does it hurt you to know that I still love Aaron and always will?”
Tenderly, softly, he placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “Of course you do. It would be weird if you didn’t.”
I fell for Jason. How could I not? He was easy to love. He still is.