I was married when I struck up a friendship with another man. And an unlikely Cupid pushed us together. By Sam Wood, 38
Glancing at the clock, I heaved a sigh.
Late again, I thought to myself.
It was another hour before the front door finally burst open and my husband Quentin appeared, full of apologies.
‘Sorry, I got caught up…’ he began.
‘…at work,’ I finished his sentence for him.
Quentin and I had met as teenagers. We’d started off as friends but gradually romance had blossomed and we’d tied the knot.
After our little boy was born, life felt perfect – and I’d looked forward to us spending lots of time together as a family. But there was a snag.
Quentin was really ambitious and, determined to get on, he started spending more and more time at work.
‘I’m so lonely,’ I told him. ‘You’re never here.’
‘I’m just trying to provide for us,’ he said. ‘I want to give us a good life.’
I understood, and I really appreciated how hard he worked for his family.
But I couldn’t help how I felt.
It wasn’t as though I had friends and family on the doorstep either.
We lived in the countryside, and with Quentin often away for work or not arriving home till late, I spent hours and hours alone with our rambunctious little boy.
I started having panic attacks and eventually was diagnosed with anxiety.
I tried to explain how I was feeling to Quentin.
‘It’s great that you’re so focused on work,’ I told him. ‘But I feel neglected. You don’t give me enough emotional support.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he replied, ‘but I’m just not an emotional kind of guy.’
It was frustrating, but I loved Quentin and I was determined to make our marriage work.
In time, we moved to a new place near the sea.
Quentin had an amazing new job lined up and I was looking forward to living somewhere with shops close by and a community.
‘We need to get out and meet people,’ I told Quentin. ‘It’s time to make some friends.’
I found a group that organised regular get-togethers and so, one evening, we headed to the pub for a quiz night.
The pub was packed to the rafters, but it didn’t take long to find our group. And, as more and more people started to arrive, we directed them to our table.
Then, while Quentin was buying some drinks, the pub door opened and a man walked in.
He was tall and good-looking, and he had a gorgeous smile.
‘Are you here for the Meetup quiz?’ I asked. ‘We’re sitting over there.’
‘I know,’ he replied. ‘I’ve been with Meetup for a few years now.’
As he walked away, I felt embarrassed.
Of course he knew who everyone was. It was me who was the newbie!
As the quiz was about to start, the handsome stranger joined Quentin and me at the table.
‘I’m Roger,’ he smiled.
It turned out that Roger and I were both great quizzers, and we fired answers across the table at lightning speed.
It was great fun, and when I heard there was another group night out being organised, I jumped at the chance to go.
This time it was a meal at a Mexican restaurant.
Roger was there and we had another really fantastic evening, tucking into delicious quesadillas and enchiladas, all washed down with margaritas.
I hadn’t enjoyed myself so much in ages – and not long after, Roger sent me a friend request on Facebook.
We chatted online and discovered we really got on. Roger was outgoing but also had a quiet, sensitive side, and was creative like me.
He told me he had a daughter from a previous relationship, and when I opened up about my anxiety, he confessed that he’d also been through it and gave me great advice on how to manage the condition.
Over time, I found myself turning to him more and more. On one occasion, when I woke up in the middle of the night with a panic attack, I called him.
He talked me through it, helping me to calm my breathing, and set up an appointment with a counsellor for me.
‘People helped me when I was at rock bottom,’ he said. ‘So I want to do the same for you.’
I was so grateful that I had made such a special friend.
When I told Quentin about how much Roger was helping me, he was relieved.
‘I’m glad you have someone to talk to,’ he said.
I couldn’t help feeling a little hurt, though, and I thought, What kind of husband doesn’t feel jealous of their wife’s close friendship with another man?
Then one night things came to a head.
Quentin and I were hosting a games night at our house, and Roger arrived early to help set up.
I was aware of Quentin watching us.
At the end of the evening, Quentin came up to me and said, ‘You’re falling for him, aren’t you?’
I was at a loss for words, so he went on, ‘I’ve been watching you two all night. Roger’s a good guy. You should go for it.’
It felt like a punch to the stomach.
Was my husband actually telling me that I should see someone else? Didn’t he love me any more?
In the weeks that followed, I wrestled with my emotions.
The truth was, Quentin was right. I was falling for Roger. He could give me something Quentin never could.
But was it enough to break up my marriage?
Quentin spoke to me and Roger separately, gently encouraging our relationship. He was so reasonable and unemotional about it.
Finally I said to him, ‘Are you sure?’
‘I think it’s for the best,’ Quentin said.
So we started divorce proceedings.
As a stay-at-home mum, I didn’t really have money of my own and didn’t know how I’d be able to support myself, let alone our son.
But Quentin had an idea.
‘Why doesn’t Roger move in with us?’ he said.
‘What?’ I asked, stunned.
‘I’m working away so much at the moment. It just makes sense,’ he went on. ‘Once you’re in a better position financially, I’ll move out.’
It was unconventional, but Roger was willing to give it a go, so a few weeks later, he and his daughter moved in with us.
I was terrified it would be an absolute disaster.
But it was the complete opposite.
The kids adjusted well and, if anything, it breathed new life into our home.
While my relationship with Roger flourished, he and Quentin also struck up a friendship, and the three of us even took the kids to Disney World together.
Roger, Quentin and I took grown-up breaks together too, the three of us piling into our car and heading off on kid-free adventures.
Although some of my family were opposed to the idea at first, once they saw how well we all got on, they came round to it.
Now, 20 months after Roger moved in, Quentin and I are officially divorced and he’s about to move into a flat nearby.
But he’ll be staying in my life – and in Roger’s.
I feel so lucky to have them both.
Quentin gave me a family and security, and Roger gave me hope and peace when I was feeling lost.
If it wasn’t for Quentin, Roger and I would never have got together. Not many women can say their husband found them a new man – but I’m so glad mine did.