He Lied... Three Years Later I'm Still With Him

We met in Tinder one September while he was on vacation in Austin. We met up and enjoyed a whirlwind 36 hours of deep conversations and intense sex, forging a connection that was deep and real. Our intoxicating first meeting led way to me traveling to Denver to see him. I knew I was falling hard and fast for him, and I embraced the highs of a new relationship with zeal.

On my third night in Denver, we sat across from each other at a bar. I can still see his silhouette in the dark, hazy room, still wearing a coat on this chilly night in December. As we meandered through topics, we started talking about having kids. I told him I didn’t want any of my own; as the second oldest in a large family, I knew that I wanted a more autonomous life and wasn’t ready for the sacrifices that a family would require. He said he agreed, that he didn’t want kids either, and that he wanted a life of adventure an autonomy as well.

During my flight back home, I ruminated in our days together and how happy I was at the prospect of a new, real relationship. I was excited about our next trip, excited to text him that I arrived safely home or maybe even call him and tell him I missed him already. As the plane taxied to the gate, I turned on my phone and received this text message:

“…I’m his longtime girlfriend (7 years), and he told me he was spending this week alone in the mountains to think about his actions and our relationship (he had an affair for about a year that ended in August and we're currently going to counseling). I'm sorry to approach you like this, I know it seems crazy, but I would appreciate any insight you could give me.”

She also messaged me on Instagram, mentioning their daughter. After scrolling through her page, I found the evidence. There they were, the three of them, dressed up like Han Solo, Princess Leia, and Rae for Halloween, right between his trip to Austin and my trip to Denver.

My heart started racing as a pit grew in my stomach. There was no way that he had lied like this. Am I another affair? Does he really have a kid?! What else was a lie? I immediately sent a screen-shot of the text to him, and he called to explain: they were no longer in a relationship, but he did have a 3-year-old daughter. My heart shattered.

3 years later, we are still in a relationship. I ultimately moved to Denver to be with him, I moved into his home with his daughter. I’ve read bedtime stories, I’ve watched hours of PBS kids, I’ve waited patiently for his weeks with her to end so that we could have our weeks without her. Yet, as time goes on, I’m realizing that I am deeply unhappy. His original lie set our relationship up for mistrust, conflict, and further lies. We’ve both lied. I lied that I could handle having a kid, though at the time I truly thought I’d do anything to be with him. Because of this, our relationship devolves into a bi-monthly week-long fight about his lie, my commitment, and his daughter.

During yet another intense conflict before the holidays, I began to realize that since the basis of our relationship was a lie, the required trust was unattainable. We didn’t start out honestly, and I haven’t lived honestly within our relationship. From the beginning, I acted like I would do anything to be with him. I sacrificed my city, my family, my friends, and my career so that I could move across the country to be with him. My blind behavior enabled a relationship that gave him everything he wanted: a girlfriend, his city, his family, and his daughter without having to prioritize our relationship separately. His daughter is his priority and his world, and I am an outsider. My decisions have to be vetted through what’s best for his family rather than what’s best for me. The life we live is centered around his family and his daughter, not around our relationship or who he and I want to be, as individuals or a couple. To say that I’m lonely is an understatement. The sacrifices that I didn’t want to make for a family, I’m making. But for his family, not mine, not ours, just his.

We’ve certainly worked hard at compromise, at balancing the power, but it never really fixes the problem that started that day in the bar. While I thought the mature thing was to suck it up and sacrifice for the relationship, I’m realizing three years later that I reacted to the lie with a lie of my own. The result? A relationship that is less than ideal for both of us: I’m not happy, therefore I can’t make him happy. We’re trapped in a vicious cycle. Looking back, I think the pit in my stomach was my gut telling me to run, to run from the lie, from the kid, from the budding relationship. Had I understood that by enabling his life I would be preventing myself from having the life I wanted, I would have never left behind all that I did for his sake.

As I now work to love myself as much as I love him, I’m seeing that my happiness is more important than the relationship that makes me feel trapped. I’m grateful to be taking off the shackles of my sacrifices and to be ready to fully embrace what I want for myself, rather than making huge compromises that still result in unhappiness. I am being honest now for the first time in three years because my life is worth finding true, sustainable happiness.