HAPPIER NOW
I’m glad my toxic husband is dead – I signed up to Tinder a week before his funeral…now I feel free
Here, the former travel agency worker tells Mel Fallowfield her story
WHEN Carolyn Morton* was suddenly widowed last year, she felt a sense of freedom she had never imagined.
Soon after her oil rig worker husband John* died aged 49, Carolyn, 45, who was left with two teenagers but a big payout, jumped into bed with a younger man then five more in the months that followed.
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Here, the former travel agency worker tells Mel Fallowfield her story . . .
As I knelt in the church at my husband John’s funeral, I felt a mixture of emotions.
I was devastated for our children, traumatised by the sudden nature of John’s death, and desperately sad that the man I’d once loved so fiercely no longer existed.
I also had a secret. A week before the funeral, I’d signed up to Tinder to find someone to have sex with. Two days later, I was in bed with a 33-year-old man.
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I didn’t feel guilt when I did it, I felt release. It was something I needed. I have a high sex drive and for years John and I had rarely made love. It was more complicated than widow’s fire — the term used to describe an intense desire to have sex that some feel after the death of a partner.
My marriage to John was complicated — at times I’d hated him, at others I still loved him.
While he lay dying in hospital, with a heart infection, I’d have done anything to make sure he survived. I was by his bed during every moment of the three weeks he was fighting death.
But afterwards I felt relief. John was a Jekyll and Hyde character — a fact he hid when he swept me off my feet 23 years ago after we met on a date set up by friends.
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He was charming and gorgeous. He worked on the oil rigs and I missed him on his three-week stints away. I’d wear his jumper so I could smell him. But the mask slipped after we got married, a year after meeting, and I’d given birth to our two children, Jenny, now 19, and Rose, 17.
It was a few months after Rose was born that I found he’d cheated.
My marriage to John was complicated — at times I’d hated him, at others I still loved him
When my lovely husband was dying I felt furious anger, shock... and a most bizarre desire for sex
He sent me an email meant for someone else, saying: “I enjoyed massaging you . . . and can’t wait to see you.”
I was in shock. He’d given no sign he was not still as in love as I was. When I confronted him, he admitted chatting to someone online while bored on the rig.
He’d met up with her while he was on leave and I was at work as a travel agent. He swore it was only a massage and there was no sex. He said he adored me and it would not happen again.
But it smashed my heart in half.
Before it happened, I’d have said I would leave if he ever cheated. But I had two small children and financially we were struggling. I didn’t know how I’d cope.
I was also still in love with him.
I decided to believe it would never happen again. But over the years, I suspected he was unfaithful more times. He guarded his phone, and there were moments when he slipped up over saying where he’d been when out.
I learnt to ignore it. But it wasn’t just his infidelity that took its toll. Sometimes when he came home for his work he was moody, refusing to engage or have sex.
During those periods, I hated him. But at other times he was charming. It was complicated.
Nothing I did was right and he would argue with the girls, laying down the law on their nights out and friends visiting.
During those periods, I hated him. But at other times he was charming. It was complicated.
I often read on Mumsnet where women tell you to LTB (leave the bastard). But unravelling a life as a couple with children and a large mortgage is far from simple. We could barely afford to run one house, let alone two.
I tried to end it a few times but he’d promise about it all being better, and for a while it would be.
Hearing him joke with the girls would make me feel it was worth it.
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I don’t know what might have happened if he hadn’t died in January last year. It came out of the blue.
Maybe he had been tired but there were no warning signs.
The first few days, I was numb. I went into overdrive organising. But gradually a feeling of relief came.
My debate about whether to stay or leave was over, and my financial worries too.
He got a big death-in-service payout, had an excellent life insurance policy, and I would get income from his pension. The peace of financial security cannot be underestimated.
It was easier for the girls than it might have been — he was away so often that they were used to it being just us three.
For so long, sex had been tied up with John, and complicated feelings, and this was straightforward and enjoyable.
After sleeping with a man before the funeral, I went on to have sex with five more, all younger than me. I found them on apps and met for emotionless sex.
For so long, sex had been tied up with John, and complicated feelings, and this was straightforward and enjoyable.
But after seven months, I found it unfulfilling and I had therapy to unpick my emotions. It helped.
In January, a year after John’s death, I met Rob*, a plumber. He’s funny and kind. It feels right.
The girls struggled with the thought of their dad being replaced but now adore Rob, and he moved in two months ago. He’s financially stable, too, and I love not working now. I go swimming and am slowly redecorating the house. The migraines that plagued me through my marriage have disappeared.
Some friends are jealous. One told me she wished her husband had died instead of her divorcing him. They all knew where they were with downtrodden Carolyn, who skipped girls’ nights out as she couldn’t afford it and admitted to her unhappy marriage.
It’s akin to the “big” friend losing weight and looking fab. It’s unsettled them.
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Weirdly, I don’t regret I stayed with John. Fate took its course.
- *Names have been changed
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