Three years ago, at 50, he had a classic midlife crisis (his words): new 'boy band' hairdo, jive lessons ( without me), going to the gym, trendy clothes, a second mobile - and online dating.He went to counselling alone, refused to go as a couple, and I believe he wanted to end the marriage. I was so frightened I did all I could to cling on, as I know he was close to leaving for good.A few years ago, I was bemoaning my love life, as many early 20-somethings do when they graduate college. I let my friend construct the basics of my profile for me, and then I underwent the existential crisis of building my profile. And was I going to resort to platitudes about my typical day ("there really is no typical day for me! You can't bemoan your nonexistent romantic life if you aren't trying.I was sitting at a diner with one of my closest friends, and she presented me with a solution: set up an Ok Cupid account. There were times when I would get frustrated and would delete my account completely.He was remorseful and said it was 'an escape, a fantasy' to help him cope with his job, my illness and so on.I was too poorly, too dependent on him to challenge this and chose to believe him.A judge has now granted the husband's demand for a divorce, agreeing that the break-up was the sole fault of the wife due to her online infidelity and sharing of intimate photographs with a number of men.
Whether you stay or leave, you just have to find the guts to go with the decision you think is the right one.
I went through a vicious cycle of deleting and undeleting my account, ultimately deciding that the only option was to have hope.
After all, every date I went on could have — potentially — been phenomenal. In early 2013, I read a book that changed the way I viewed dating.
Someone really did utter the words "good luck" to me as he sent me off onto the R train, back into the abyss of the internet.
And there were people who thoroughly disappointed me, too, and because I'm a human, there were occasional tears shed in the process.