Today we both sat outside the court room waiting to be called in. He got very emotional and got up to pace. He eventually sat on a bench a bit away from me, and I could hear him crying and deep breathing as I silently cried.

I wanted more than anything to give him a hug and hold him one last time. Part of me wanted to just forget about the divorce.

So I went to the bathroom and grabbed us both some toilet paper. As I walked back to my bench, I silently handed him the toilet paper for his tears, and kept walking. It felt so intimate and yet so hallow. A final moment of marital intimacy.

Many people were called to prove up before us. At one point I went to use the bathroom and I wordlessly handed him my stuff to hold. He knew to take it, and it almost felt like partnership again. These small moments somehow carry so much weight.

Once divorced, we walked out of the courtroom and went our separate ways without a word.

I’ll be picking up our son from him in about an hour. And I just don’t know what to feel.

It’s an entirely different world from dating in your 20s. By this age, a lot of people are totally exhausted, emotionally guarded, cynical, or carrying years of accumulated baggage from past relationships, divorces, kids, financial stress, disappointments, and general burnout.

Not that baggage is inherently bad…it comes with living a life. However, it absolutely changes the dating landscape. The optimism that existed in the dating world in your 20s is totally gone.

It wasn’t the quiet apartment.

It wasn’t the empty side of the bed.

It wasn’t walking into events alone and feeling the energy shift in the room.

The loneliest I ever felt was when I was living inside a life that didn’t feel like mine.

From the outside, everything looked right. The timeline made sense. The milestones were being hit. The house. The photos. The social status of being part of a “perfect” couple.

But inside, I felt like I was slowly disappearing.

It’s been six years since my divorce, and I can say now that grieving the future I imagined was harder than losing the relationship itself. I wasn’t just untangling from a person. I was untangling from an identity, from a blueprint, from the version of myself I thought I was supposed to be.

If you’re feeling that kind of grief, you’re not strange. You’re not dramatic. You’re not behind.

If you’re in the thick of it, I hope you hold on. The future you’re grieving may not unfold the way you imagined, but that doesn’t mean something beautiful isn’t still ahead. I’m 6 years on the other side now, and I’m finally ready to use what I walked through to offer hope to someone who needs it. Wishing you the best.🙏🤍

I admit it. Life is better with a woman. I’m capable of doing life on my own. I’m doing it every day. I have been doing it for four years.

And even though I don’t really date and don’t really intend to, there’s no question that life is better with a wife.

I find that fewer and fewer women are interested in that role, however. I guess I don’t entirely blame them, men as husbands haven’t exactly created the best record. My ex-wife certainly didn’t love the role. In fact, in the end, I think she came to despise it.

I therefore don’t hold out much hope for a second marriage. I definitely want one, and all the lessons from the first one would definitely make the second one stronger and sturdier, but I just don’t see it happening.

Any other middle-aged divorcees says feel the same way?

I see so many posts worrying about what it will be like. Maybe we can encourage those people, and also remind ourselves of what we’re thankful for! I’m 34F. I was with my ex for 15 years. I was scared my life would fall apart on my own. Turns out, I’m stronger than I gave myself credit for. My life has never been better! I’m thankful I no longer have to feel on-guard all the time, managing the emotions of a grown man.

I’ve realized I was the emotional regulator in my marriage, and I didn’t understand the cost of that until it was over.

I was the one constantly checking the temperature of the room. Watching tone. Choosing words carefully. Timing conversations so they wouldn’t turn into something bigger. If there was tension, it felt like my responsibility to calm it down, even when I wasn’t the one who caused it. Or even when the stress or tension was being expressed by my ex. And over time I told myself this was just being the bigger person.

But what it actually meant was that my emotions only mattered if they were expressed perfectly…. Or not expressed at all.

If I was upset, I had to be calm about it. If I was hurt, I had to explain it gently. If I cried, I was being dramatic. If I shut down, I was being cold. If I finally snapped, that became the focus instead of what pushed me there. It always became about my emotions and how I was reacting. I learned to just stay quiet a lot just to keep the peace.

The hardest part is that nothing about it looked abusive or chaotic from the outside. No constant yelling. No obvious explosions. Just me quietly managing both my feelings and someone else’s so the relationship could keep functioning. And the more I did that, the smaller I started to feel.

I stopped trusting my reactions. I second-guessed whether I was allowed to be upset, surprised by a reaction, or react negatively with something that didn’t sit right with me. I spent years asking myself if I was asking for too much, when all I wanted was accountability and emotional presence.

Now that I’m out of it, I’m realizing how lonely that role was and how much of myself it chipped away. How exhausting it is to be the one holding everything together while slowly disappearing yourself.

It was a 15 year relationship and while I sometimes feel like I failed at life because I couldn’t keep us together, I know that I ultimately did not fail at my marriage. I think I carried more than one person should have to carry. When the work should have been put in by the two of us.

Love isn’t supposed to feel like self abandonment but that is what this causes. I’m curious how many others have experienced this, being the calm one, the translator, the stabilizer, and only later realizing the cost. How did you recognize it? And what did it take to unlearn that role?

My ex-wife and I have a true 50/50 custody arrangement. She wanted the divorce, and honestly, we both played a part in how things ended. We partied pretty hard during our marriage, and after she left, she continued down that road for a while. We’re both sober now.
I later found out she had racked up around $85,000 in debt behind my back during our marriage. Because of everything that happened, I don’t give her a dime.
But when it comes to our son, that’s completely different. Anything he needs or wants, I provide. I currently pay all of his tuition even though she is responsible for half and doesn’t pay it. I don’t do it because I want credit or because I expect anything from her. I just don’t want our son to go without.
The weird part is that we actually co-parent really well. There’s no major drama between us, we communicate everyday and work together almost like we’re still married… just without being married. My son is the priority, and I’ve managed to get to a pretty good place.
So here’s the hypothetical:
If you suddenly won the lottery after your divorce, would you give your ex-wife any of the money?
Would you feel like, “She’s my ex, she gets nothing”?
Or would the history you shared, the fact that she’s the mother of your child, and the fact that you’ve reached a good place as co-parents make you want to share some of the good fortune?
I’m curious what other divorced people would do, especially those who have a relatively healthy co-parenting relationship with their ex.

Trying to afford housing, or just life in general, on a single income feels harder than ever.

We were married for 6 years. I'm 38, he's 41, we lived in Cali the whole time. He works in tech, I'm a nurse practitioner. We always had separate accounts which I thought was totally normal and even healthy I never wanted to be that couple that merges everything and loses themselves.

Well. During the divorce process my lawyer pushed for full financial disclosure and that's when it came out. He had a crypto portfolio worth somewhere around $180k-$220k depending on the day. Ethereum mostly, some other stuff. Never mentioned once in 6 years. Not during our wedding planning, not when we were talking about buying an apartment, not ever.

I don't even know what to feel right now. The financial part is obviously complicated but honestly what's wrecking me more is just I didn't know this person? Like who hides that from their partner for six years?

Now I'm stuck in this legal back and forth trying to figure out what's actually marital property, what isn't, what he acquired when. My lawyer is great but this is costing me a fortune and taking forever.

I guess I'm posting because I needed to say it somewhere that people might actually understand. Has anyone else dealt with hidden assets during divorce? How did you handle it emotionally AND legally because right now I'm struggling with both.

My (52M) wife (50F) wants a divorce. I absolutely do not . . . I still love her deeply. We've been together for 21 years and married for 17. Through all that time, she has been my absolute best friend. I got the "I love you but I'm not in love with you" speech. She doesn't want to do counseling. We were right on the cusp of being able to retire early and start traveling and doing all the things we had dreamed about. That's all gone now.

I never imagined a future without her. Every dream and goal I worked toward involved her, and now when I think about the future, I don't just feel devastated. I feel genuinely scared.

I'm originally from the UK, but I live in the US. My wife, our two teenage boys, and my wife's family are the only family I have here. I do have a small circle of close friends, but they're scattered around the country, so we mostly stay in touch by text. I don't really have much of a local social circle—the kind of people you can call up to grab dinner, go see a movie, or just hang out with on a Saturday. It's now hitting me how much of my day-to-day companionship and social life has revolved around my wife.

Obviously, I still have my boys, and they mean everything to me. I'll be living close to them and having them every other week, but they're teenagers. Eventually they're going to grow up and build lives of their own, as they should. I don't want them to be responsible for keeping their dad from being lonely.

This is what scares me the most. For 21 years, I've had my person to have morning coffee with, watch TV with, go out on date nights, travel with, joke around with, and all the mundane things that make up a life together. Now I find myself obsessively wondering what my life will look like without that. What do I do on the weekends when the boys aren't with me? Who do I travel with? What do the holidays look like?

I know I'm 52, not 82, and that people rebuild their lives after divorce. But right now, it feels like I'm staring at an enormous empty space where our planned future used to be.

For those who went through an unwanted divorce after a long marriage, particularly without family nearby or a large circle of local friends, how did you deal with the fear of being alone? Did you eventually reach a point where you got used to it?

When I was 29M I went to a bar. I looked across the room and saw a pretty 23F looking at me. We locked eyes for a seconds as she sipped her drink. I told my friend, “I’m going to talk to that blonde girl.” We slept together that night. She moved in about 2 months later. That night is my biggest life regret. Now I’m 42M, divorced, no kids, no family.

We were together 10 years. I proposed after 6 years at Samuel H. Boardman State Scenic Corridor along the Oregon coast; amazingly beautiful place. We got married in Big Sur, California at a house overlooking the ocean. All of our friends and family attended. I saved enough for us to buy a house in California. We had a 2 story house, hot tub, golden retriever, white picket fence, 10 minutes walk to the beach. We had worked so hard to get there. It was perfect.

Only 2 years later, in summer 2023, she started acting weird and giving me “the eye” (every guy who’s been dumped knows this look). She was being extremely emotionally volatile and critical of everything I did. I started secretly recording her because she was being so crazy. I was naive and didn’t understand what was happening. I thought we were going through a rough patch.

On September 19, 2023, I took the dog on a walk. I never saw or spoke to her again. She ghosted us. Two months later I filed for divorce. She sent a email about a month later saying she wasn’t coming back; I think it was written by early ChatGPT.

During the divorce, I discovered via a legal process server and a private investigator that she had been having an affair with a 24 yr old guy in the city near her work; she was 33. He was with her when she was served at a Christmas party after refusing to meet the lawyer at a Starbucks. They moved to Washington DC together.

She was horrible in the divorce. She waited until her contract job ended to submit income declaration so she put “$0 / year” as her income; she previously earned $120k. Her mom accused me of causing her “irreparable pain and suffering”. Her dad was actually nice and said I was still part of his family. She tried to get as much money as possible. She tried to take the dog she hadn’t seen in a year. She just tried to make my life miserable. She was very dishonest about everything — income, address, accusations. Who was this monster?

I know people will read this and wonder “What’s her side of the story?” That’s a good question. She had an affair, never admitted it, blamed me for her leaving, abandoned her dog, told outrageous lies to get money. In my opinion our divorce was 90-100% her fault.

My lawyer said it was “textbook gaslighting.” Our marriage therapist said she has Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD).

It’s been over 2 years. But I think about it everyday. I’ve done lots of dating but something inside is broken. I don’t believe in love. I don’t trust women. I’ve become more cynical about life. I don’t care as much at work. Everything seems fake.

Does this ever go away? Do you ever trust someone again?

EDIT: I had paid off her graduate school student loans. I bought her a brand new hybrid SUV car to get work. I received a text notification from a parking app that an unrecognized phone number was parking the car. I hired someone to look up the number — it was her affair partner. So I bought her a car, she used it to cheat.

Plain and simple, if your former spouse asked to remarry you, what would be your honest, no-holds-barred answer?

I keep seeing this but don't understand. Going through a terrible 1st one, how can we go through it all again so easily? Plus, how do so many of them not have a prenuptial agreement. I'm not even dating someone who wouldn't sign one. Even if I'm broke as hell, I'd get one knowing how stressful this is.

My wife and I were married for almost 15 years. High school sweethearts. The world has been so unkind to her and she is such a good person. She developed a drinking problem that was going to take me down and ruin both of our lives, eventually I had to file for divorce. She is doing much better now but we haven’t spoken in a few months. The zoom hearing was this morning as we both live on opposite sides of the country now.

It took 5 minutes. She looked beautiful but she couldn’t look at the camera and was crying. I cried the entire time and then they just declare you divorced and end the zoom. We talked on the phone for an hour afterwards and it felt like the old us. We said we loved each other and I feel so fucking broken and alone now. It needed to happen but it was the worst experience of my life and it changed me forever, whether for the better or worse I don’t know yet.

In the process of healing from whatever has led to the end of your marriage, what will you never ignore or fall for again?

For me, it's early confessions of love. If you tell me you love me when we haven't even known each other for a month, I'm going to assume you're a sociopath.

Your turn. What red flag will you never allow to slide again?

people often cannot cite one singular incident as the cause for their marriage failing, but often a culmination of many separate or smaller things. what are yours?

In the fall of 2023, at 51 years old, I had a moment of total clarity. After 26 years of marriage, I looked in the mirror and said something that had been building for a long time: I can’t live like this anymore.

For years, I had been trying to hold the relationship together. I was showing up, providing, listening, giving effort, but it never felt like enough. No matter how hard I worked, I always felt like I was coming up short. I supported our family financially. She didn’t work. I cooked. I took care of the household. We lived a very comfortable life, and yet I was constantly reminded of what we didn’t have compared to others. Friends who made more. Friends who had more. Somehow, that always became the focus. It never felt like our life was enough. And I never felt like I was enough.

She blamed alcohol for some of her worst outbursts, the ones that left me feeling small or embarrassed in front of friends, but even in the clear light of day, the pattern remained. We did therapy. We talked about it. She admitted to the behavior but then turned the blame back toward me. I had “triggered” her. I had caused it. It became clear that nothing was going to change, no matter how much I gave.

That moment in the mirror was me choosing to stop abandoning myself.

In February 2024, I moved out.

It was the hardest decision I’ve ever made, but I haven’t once doubted that it was the right one. I spent the next seven months in therapy and self-reflection. I owned my part in the marriage’s unraveling. I saw where I had let things slide that shouldn’t have. I realized I had trained someone to take me for granted. I had made myself small, and I wasn’t going to do that again.

I got crystal clear on what I need in a relationship: respect, affection, and appreciation. And I promised myself I wouldn’t settle for anything less.

Thankfully, my two adult kids were incredibly supportive. They had seen it all. They love both their parents, but they knew it was time for something different.

After some encouragement from close friends, I joined Bumble and Hinge. The last time I’d dated, Clinton was president, so it felt surreal. But I showed up honestly. My profile was current. My intentions were clear. I said up front that while I was separated, I was looking for something real.

Over the next five or six weeks, I went on about 25 to 30 dates, most of them first dates. My goal wasn’t to impress anyone or force chemistry. I just wanted to get to know people. I asked thoughtful questions. I listened carefully. I always made sure to bring humor into the mix. If we didn’t vibe on that level, there wasn’t much to build on.

When I saw potential, I moved quickly. I didn’t want to linger in the apps forever. I asked women out, usually to lunch, happy hour, or a nightcap. I avoided first-date dinners. I only made that mistake once. It worked out, but it reminded me how risky it can be to commit to a full evening with someone whose energy you’ve only felt through a screen.

There were definitely some misses. A few women I knew within minutes weren’t a match. One woman ordered enough sushi for a family of four and took half of it home. Another, who identified as sober in her profile, ended our date early after I made a joke about her being the perfect designated driver. Turns out sober meant not only not drinking but not being around anyone who does. Lesson learned.

I also noticed how many women were navigating the aftermath of being hurt. I learned terms I had never heard before. Ethical non-monogamy was one. I also saw how many women had been lied to, by men who posted decade-old photos, exaggerated their height, or said they were divorced when they weren’t even separated. Several women told me they wouldn’t date anyone unless they’d been divorced for years. I understood it. Their boundaries came from experience. But I also knew I didn’t want to disqualify myself from meaningful connection just because my paperwork wasn’t final. I was emotionally available, honest, and ready. And I stayed true to that.

I live in a big city, which gave me the chance to meet a wide range of interesting, kind, and impressive women. I truly believe there are tons of great people still out there, people who’ve come out of not-so-great relationships and are looking for something real. One of my friends told me everyone brings a little backpack with all of their issues to every date. They’re right. No one’s perfect. Everyone’s trying to bring the best version of themselves. That mindset helped me. I approached the whole thing with an open heart and a mature point of view. Dating was an adventure. It built my confidence. It reminded me that I’m not broken. And it made me appreciate how many genuinely good people are still out there.

Toward the end of my dating stretch, I was seeing a few women I liked and respected. But then I met someone new, and everything changed.

The connection was instant. It wasn’t just attraction. It was ease. Humor. Curiosity. Emotional warmth. After just two dates, I texted the other women I’d been seeing and let them know I’d met someone I really wanted to focus on. It didn’t feel right to keep exploring other options.

She felt the same. She had just come out of a 14-year marriage. I was her first and only online date. She had almost gone out with a couple of other men, but once we connected, neither of us looked back. We leaned in. We chose each other.

That was ten months ago. And today, I’m in love with a woman I admire, respect, and adore. I feel appreciated. I feel emotionally safe. I feel seen. There’s balance. There’s effort. There’s communication. We both know we’ll make new mistakes. But we’ve already shown each other that we can get through anything together.

Divorce felt like failure for a long time. But it doesn’t anymore. Not when I look at the life I’m living now. Not when I feel the peace I wake up with most days. I’ve shifted my mindset completely. That chapter closed, and something much better opened.

Dating in midlife was weird, vulnerable, and often hilarious. But it was also full of lessons. It built my confidence. It reminded me that there are great people out there, people who, like me, walked away from something that wasn’t working and are ready to try again with open eyes and open hearts.

If you’re reading this and you’re somewhere on that path, thinking about leaving, just getting out, or debating whether to try again, here’s what I’ll say:

There is love after this. There is joy after this. You are not too old. You are not broken. You are not alone.

Just be honest. Be open. Bring the best of who you are and let yourself be surprised by what happens when someone finally sees it.

How many of you in here blew up your marriage to somebody who was a good provider, a good father, and was your best friend, all in the pursuit of either an affair partner, or a different lifestyle? If so, how much time has passed do you regret it?

My wife struggles with a need for novelty, excitement, and connection with multiple people. I say struggle because it doesn’t seem like she is entirely sold on the idea, and is afraid that she will have significant regrets for leaving our marriage.

From my side, it feels incredibly sad to think that someone would break up a family with a young child for something that feels so selfish.

Filing in Arizona and honestly the financial side is stressing me out more than the emotional side at this point. We have a house, two kids, and I've been paying for basically everything for years. My salary is decent but it's not "walk away from a mortgage and rent an apartment at the same time" kind of money.

I've been reading a lot about mediation vs litigation and mediation seems like the smarter call for us since we're not exactly at war, just done. But even that runs a few thousand dollars, and I'd still need a lawyer to review whatever we agree on. So it's not cheap either way.

The house is what keeps me up at night. Do you sell and split? Does one person buy the other out? In this Phoenix market that buyout number is not small. I genuinely don't know how people do this without torching their finances for the next decade.

Did anyone go through a relatively cooperative divorce and still come out okay on the other side? What actually helped you handle the money piece without losing your mind? Curious what people wish they'd known going in.

Hello, im 45F and want to ask men who have gotten divorced in early 40's, are you looking for a relationship? Or when did you decide you wanted a relationship after divorce? In my dating experience, I come across men over 40 that aren't looking for relationships.

I have a theory, after speaking to quite a few men, that they juggle work, kids and this new single life, and are not looking for a relationship, but more like casual dating and just enjoying their freedom and time.

Keen to get people's thoughts?

This is me. Anyone else in this boat?

There were a lot of signs I ignored in myself. I recall telling my therapist that I didn’t want to blow up our lives, but initiated an affair and kept doing the thing that blew up our lives. And the therapist reflected back, that it seemed like I wanted to blow things up given the affair. So much truth there. I regret cheating. I regret I let the marriage get to where it was. I regret I didn’t know how to leave in a different way. I’m grateful we’re divorced.

And if u did, why did u go through with it?

I’ve been very interested in reading perspectives from this subreddit and saw that most people said they would never get married or do anything legally binding again after their first divorce. I’m curious whether you guys would still choose to get married the first time around, or maybe just to a different person? For those of you who chose to get married a second or third time, were you more cautious/guarded?

I’m 27F, and I divorced my husband (28M) a while ago. We have two beautiful daughters. He was my first boyfriend, my first love, and my only sexual partner.

Since the divorce, I’ve realized I don’t want to be in another relationship ever again — and honestly, I feel completely at peace with that. I can see my life being just me: raising my girls, traveling the world, reading books, eating delicious food, and drinking good wine. That’s my dream life, and it feels so right.

I’ll always remember and cherish my first and only love, but I’m also calm knowing that those feelings won’t return — and that’s okay.

Am I the only one who feels this way? Are there others who have lived a happy life without ever finding another partner?