I met my husband, my love, at a time in my life when I felt I needed to start over. I reinvented myself and was trying to forget about past mistakes and events. I never told him I was in a committed relationship with a woman for two years.
My husband has never come out and asked me if I was a former Lesbian, so I never said anything. I’ve always identified as Bisexual, and have never been quiet about the fact that I’m attracted to women. I just never had the guts to say that I was committed to living as a Lesbian at one time.
Let’s call her Naomi. Naomi and I met when I was fresh out of a rehab hospital. I had been drinking and doing anything I could to hide my pain as an addict. We became friends and soon it changed into a romantic relationship. Naomi was a loud and proud Lesbian and had no qualms about dating straight girls. I had been with women physically, but never dated one seriously. That took a whole new level of commitment. I not only committed to her, but to the lifestyle.
We lived in a small Southern town at the time, and Lesbians were outcasts and went against God’s laws in their eyes. Everything was different. PDA was nonexistent, unless you wanted everyone to stare or say something rude. About halfway through our time together, we moved to a larger town that didn’t care one way or another who we loved. It was a welcomed change.
It lasted two years and when we broke up we remained friends. We would still be friends to this day if Naomi hadn’t died last year. I almost told my husband that day but it seemed an inappropriate time. I was broken hearted and devastated at the news. I miss her every day. I loved her.
One day I will tell my husband about us. Right now it feels like a special thing between Naomi and I. Our special time.
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