WORDS: HELEN RENSHAW. PHOTO (POSED BY MODELS): GETTY
The night Andy* told me he loved me ‘but not in that way’, the truth exploded like a rocket in my brain. My husband was gay. Subconsciously, I must have been collecting evidence for years, but my brain couldn’t piece it together until that night. Suddenly, everything that didn’t add up – our lacklustre sex life, his heavy drinking, the work friend I’d never met – made absolute sense. It was the most awful moment of my life.
Samantha Taylor* was married for 11 years when she discovered her husband had been living a lie
I met Andy in 1995, just after I finished university. I was at a bar with friends when a gorgeous guy walked in. He had amazing hair – a cloud of auburn curls – and an unassuming demeanour, as if he had no idea how attractive he was. I thought he was beautiful. I engineered more meetings and, one night, in the back of a cab, leaned in for a kiss. He wasn’t very responsive, but I put it down to shyness.
The guys I’d been out with before were Jack-the-Lad types, so Andy was like a breath of fresh air. I fell head over heels in love. Eventually, we ended up in bed, and it was the least successful part of our relationship. Despite being five years older than me, he’d had only one previous girlfriend, and words like ‘clunky’ come to mind when I think of our lovemaking. But I was crazy about him. He was caring and romantic, showering me with love letters and gifts. I assumed the sex would improve.
LUCKY WOMAN
When we moved in together, I felt like the luckiest woman alive. Andy was fun, supportive and kind. Our love life wasn’t great, and it bothered me sometimes, but the positives far outweighed that one concern. We married in 2003 – I did the whole big dress thing and didn’t have a single doubt as I walked down the aisle. Four years later, I gave birth to our son, now 16. We were both thrilled, but Andy began distancing himself from me.
TOO GOOD
The last time we had sex was the night our daughter, now 13, was conceived in 2010. He didn’t touch me during the pregnancy or after the birth, but I was too exhausted to worry about it. If anything, I felt smug that I had a lovely husband, beautiful home, fantastic career and two gorgeous children. It seemed too good to be true – and it was.
While our daughter was still in nappies, Andy started drinking heavily and changing his appearance. He shaved his hair and began to wear T-shirts with low necklines – I remember gently teasing him for looking camp. Then I found a £400 tooth-whitening kit in the fridge. We didn’t have
