Everything seemed normal. He never stayed out late. He was a police officer, but he was always home on weekends. And we had a robust sex life. He was my best friend. Sometimes we’d stay up all night talking– no TV, just talking. Then one morning I tried printing something out on our office computer, and it just kept printing out the same page. It was a picture of his naked body, combined with the profile page for a gay website. He said it was nothing. Only porn. Then a few months later I found the same picture in the ‘unsent messages’ folder of our Outlook account. He’d been trying to send it to a transgender woman named Gabby. That’s when I went through his Internet history and found thousands of jpegs of transgender porn.
He denied being gay. He said it was nothing but a porn addiction. But then a few weeks later I was reviewing our credit card statement, and saw that he’d gotten tested for HIV. The next day he brought me to church. He sat me down with the pastor. And he confessed that he’d been having sex with transgender prostitutes throughout our marriage. We didn’t immediately divorce. I tried to make it work for our daughters. He tried going to an addiction treatment center at Johns Hopkins. But I felt like I was married to a stranger. It drove me to the edge.
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