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.
I first 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
