"That's the problem. I was a good man to you. I sincerely apologize for that." was my response via text message. That concluded my marriage.

UPDATE AT BOTTOM

TL:DR- Being a "good man" killed my marriage. Everything I was brought to believe was wrong. I gave the best years of my life (and nearly $100k) to someone and it meant nothing.

I have learned my lesson. Being a "good man" is a death sentence for any potentially healthy relationship. Being stable, responsible, and attempting to be a good partner, is embarrassingly off-putting even for the most co-dependent and broken of women.

If I can backtrack, I used to be beta AF. I'm also an late in life diagnosed Asperger's which makes my social skills equitable to a styrofoam cup. But the damage was done in my formative years when it came to dating and women. High school was pure hell. My 20's were spent on the outside looking in, or in a marriage that resembled roommates.

When I met my wife, I was ecstatic. I still had that feminist ideology drilled in my head from my mother and her feminist friends on how a man should act, how a man should be in a relationship, how divorce pillaging is acceptable because men suck. I at that time, still believed in the institution of marriage and happily ever after. Boy, I fucked up.

I found her physically attractive. She was a few pounds overweight and far from her prime in her early 20's, but I'm not what you could call a "Chad" (not six feet tall, no six pack, no six figure income), so to speak, so I thought it was a give and take. I accepted her. Her personality was great. The sex was great to start. She wasn't my first partner or anything, but her partner count was about 3 times higher than mine. I accepted that. She had emotional issues. I accepted that. She wasn't financially stable or responsible, but I accepted that. I came to the rescue. I started gradually taking care of just about everything. I played my utilitarian role as my mommy taught me. Everything started great. Thank you "new relationship energy".

Then came the Chinese government color guard parade of red flags. As we started dating, the incremental bombshells:

"I've been married twice before". Big deal. I was divorced once myself. I accepted it.

"My first husband died and I'm still hurting from it". I accepted it. We talked about it. I offered to get her counseling.

"My dad abused me". I get that. My stepdad abused me.

"I was raped". You have my empathy. I was sexually assaulted twice. As a straight, cis-gendered white male, I'm the sexual assault victim no one gives a fuck about.

"I'm financially irresponsible". No worries. I'll hold down the fort for the basics on Maslow's hierarchy of needs, and it's a good opportunity for you to get your ducks in a row. I just profited off selling my house, and I make pretty decent money. I was nothing more than a bailout, in hindsight.

Then came the fights when I tried to stand up for myself. I'm a giving person, but do not mistake my kindness for weakness by any means. Big mistake. Any time I stood up for myself, I got the "I'm a survivor of domestic violence and you're triggering me/reminding me of my abuser(s)." Bitch please. As someone who was abused and abandoned too, I can appreciate the built-in shut down defense mechanism. But I'm not buying it. I've been shot. You haven't. I'm not crying about it.

Then came our diametrically opposed sex lives. I'm not one to judge on someone's past. Everyone has something they're not proud of, or doesn't reflect well in mainstream society. I've been a monogamous person since I first had sex at 19. I'd maybe totalled up 13 or so partners including her. I'm in my mid-30's. I've never had the wild, hot, kinky, primal sex that she's had. She's bi. She's had MFF threesomes. She's had women. She's done all the things I'd dreamed of doing. She still talked about doing those things, but it took years to discover she wanted those things, just not with me. There was always an excuse when we talked about it during sexy time:

"I'm married to you now. I don't want to do that stuff anymore."

"I'm too old for that. I just want you now"

"It's fun to fantasize about, and talk about, but reality is sooo different." Uh huh.

This led to our first break up. I asked her to move out. She moved back in with her family across state lines. In that time I saw my doctor, improved my health, improved myself, focused on my job. Took care of business. Her? Hooking up with women. Hooking up with couples. But missed the stability and emotional gratification of Mr. Good Man.

Why, oh why did I take her back? What possessed me to think I wouldn't get zapped sticking the fork in the light socket a second time? We resumed relations. I went right back to being Mr. Good Man.

We got married. What was I thinking? Why was I trying so hard to fail? I was pressured and shamed into it. It was a veritable beat the clock challenge. But I loved her. The good in her made me overlook the ticking time bomb in the background.

Back to me being a good man. I put her on my health insurance as social norms dictate. We went to couples therapy to try to bridge the gap. My advice: Don't. It's more feminist sponsored man shaming. 1 + 1 = 2 is wrong for men in couples therapy. But I "manned up" and gave it my best. I made sure she was taken care of.

Back to the sex. As with all relationships when the NRE wears off, things get a little boring. I got a little depressed or something. I got consumed by a life changing event. She's not happy because I'm not kissing her ass, but she's not happy when I kiss her ass. Turns out we're back to talking about being with other women again, blah blah blah. This time I didn't engage. I didn't bite. I called bullshit. The list of excuses were still stored in my mind like an excel spreadsheet. Cell A3 "I'm with you now". Cell C5 "I'm not in my prime and the women that like me don't do it for me". EDIT: Cell D1 "I'm more pickier about women than men" (well gee, thanks, I guess)

The nail in the coffin: I started realizing that I needed to improve myself, for myself. I slowly started taking a few extra moments every day to do something for myself. I did something that made me happy. Whether it was cooking something I wanted, or fixing something in the garage, I was slipping it in there under the radar. I wasn't there to be her "good man" as much anymore. I wasn't kissing her ass or asking "how high?" when she said "jump".

I told her to get a "girl friend" to go do things with to alleviate the pressure off of me to be the financier, the entertainer, the planner, the fixer, the problem solver, etc. Notice the space in between girl and friend. That's called the friend zone, or something like that.

She approaches me one night after work and tries to engage me in a conversation about my #1 fantasy unrealistic hope of a two girl threesome. She informed me that she went on tinder and was matching with women. Great. Worst case, I get some peace and quiet. But as it turns out, if I was involved, no other woman was interested. Of course the women would be interested in her as a single female or as a third for their marriage, but not good ol' Mr. Good Man. So once again, I waved the white flag and wrote that off as ever happening.

Then I had enough. After all this nonsense about swinging, threesomes, etc, it triggered my inferiority complex from growing up and I snapped. I stopped caring. I said "Do this for you, I want nothing to do with it anymore". I guess that translated to switching it to her seeking men and counting her 600+ likes in under 8 hours. She made sure to point it out, and it hurt me. It offended me. I never had more than 25 likes from women in a week's time span. I let her know that it was a cunt move to do that to rub in her sexual viability. I tried to leave the room and she tried the desperation dick grab and guilty make up sex. I declined. I went to bed in the other room.

I was unhappy beyond the point of repair. I needed to be alone. I was better off alone. I asked her to leave again. She quit her job. She moved back across state lines. I tried to be cordial about it because although I had little left to lose this time around in the state mandated pillaging, I still cared for her. Mistake. First weekend back there, I guess she hooked up with a lesbian crush from high school. Fuck that. I realized right then and there that I was the problem. If I was a jerk at any point in the beginning of our courtship, she would have been playdoh in my alpha hands. I could have played to her weaknesses and got what I wanted. But I didn't. I cared. I disengaged from the conversation. Pointed out this is why we were separating/divorcing and getting my affairs in order.

I said: "I tried. I gave you everything you needed and then some. I was there every time to pick up the pieces while your family hung you out to dry. They didn't care enough to ask how you were doing half the time. While you were depressed and unemployed where were they? On vacation. Who picked up the slack? Me. Who was there? Me. Who believed in you to the point of falling on my figurative sword? Me. I'm sorry. I can't do it anymore. Marriage can't be a one way street, stability in exchange for single servings of brief satisfaction, and nothing in return for a very serious investment on multiple fronts. I can't continue to put a band-aid over a gun shot wound (tried it literally) You're a beautiful woman, and a good person. You just need to find what actually makes you happy in life."

Her reply was mostly bullshit. How she was sorry that it ended like this. She still loves me. She's doing better now (even taking an anti-depressant- being Mr. Good Man even prevents wellness) She doesn't blame me, "but you're a good man"

"That's the problem. I was a good man to you. I sincerely apologize for that."

Thanks for reading. I apologize for the book. Beats spending $100 on a shrink to tell me I'm wrong. And seeing that the dating market for mid 30's people is a dumpster fire of leftovers, single moms with agendas, and disingenuous feminists, I'm done. I'm not afraid of commitment, I'm afraid of the collateral damage when that commitment blows up in my face.

UPDATE: Well it appears after a long phone conversation with her while sorting out some of the details of the split (thankfully amicable) last night, I believe that we got to the root of her unhappiness. She knows what she needs to do and has the opportunity to take it. So hopefully without going into details here, I have actually in an end-around way inadvertently helped her by helping myself. Shit. I learned more about life, relationships and women by being with her than the hundreds of hours I spent in therapy for being a broken man. I wish to thank you all for your support, insight, kinds words, and constructive criticism. I could have made many more mistakes last night if I didn't know what I know now. I am on my way to being a better self.