My wife is the most wonderful person I’ve ever known. We’ve been together for almost two decades and she’s known she’s bisexual for almost our entire relationship. She came out to me at the exact same moment I came out to her. It just kinda worked out.

After we came out, we were on Cloud Nine for the longest time. She was all giggly and stupid and happy and it made me beam with pride that she chose me amidst the near-constant torment of being in love with anybody that showed her the slightest bit of affection.

She was an awkward, adorable, queer disaster.

Fast forward to two kids, two decades, and innumerable tragedies together and she began batting around the idea of exploring her curious side a little more.

Yadda yadda yadda, today she’s the most adorable disaster ever again. She is alternately dancing around the house and melting into the sheets to text her new friend.

I know it may sound misplaced, but I’m so proud of her. She put her discovery of herself on hold for years to live the life that was expected of her by her family and friends. I have always wanted to help her get back to her journey, but it just wasn’t the right time for her until last night.

The word ‘thruple’ has already been kicked around both in seriousness and in jest. They are both tremendously clingy and deeply covetous of one another’s attention, but whatever happens from here is fine by me.

My wife deserves to share her boundless affection with whoever she chooses and now she is living the life she once sought but chose to defer. Never was there a husband happier to see his wife’s good fortune.