I’m glad my husband is dead – I signed up for Tinder a week before his funeral

WHEN Carolyn Morton* was suddenly widowed last year, she felt a freedom she could never have imagined.

Shortly after her oil Husband of oil rig worker John* died at 49, leaving Carolyn, 45, with two teenagers but a big payout, jumped into bed with a younger man and then five others in the months that followed.

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Here, the former travel agent tells her story to Mel Fallowfield…

As I knelt in church at my husband John’s funeral, I felt a mixture of emotions.

I was devastated for our children, traumatized by John’s sudden death, and incredibly sad that the man I once loved so dearly was no longer with us.

I also had a secret. A week before the funeral, I signed up for Tinder to find someone to have sex with. Two days later, I was in bed with a 33-year-old man.

I didn’t feel guilty doing it, I felt liberation. It was something I needed. I have a high libido and for years John and I had rarely had sex. It was more complicated than widow’s fire — the term used to describe an intense desire for sex that some people feel after the death of a partner.

My marriage to John was complicated: sometimes I hated him, but sometimes I still loved him.

As he lay dying in the hospital with a heart infection, I had done everything I could to ensure his survival. I was by his bedside every moment of the three weeks he fought death.

But afterward, I felt relief. John was a Jekyll and Hyde character—a fact he hid when he blew my socks off 23 years ago after we met on a date arranged by friends.

He was charming and handsome. He worked on the oil rigs and I missed him during his three-week stay. I wore his sweater so I could smell him. But the mask fell after we got married, a year after we met, and I gave birth to our two children, Jennynow 19, and Rose17.

A few months after Rose was born, I found out he had cheated on me.

My marriage to John was complicated: sometimes I hated him, but sometimes I still loved him.

He sent me an email addressed to someone else saying, “I enjoyed massaging you… and I can’t wait to see you.”

I was in shock. He had given no sign that he wasn’t still as in love as I was. When I confronted him, he admitted that he had been chatting with someone online while he was bored on the rig.

He met her when he was on leave and I was working as a travel agent. He swore it was just a massage and there was no sex. He said he was crazy about me and it wouldn’t happen again.

But it broke my heart in two.

Before it happened, I would have said that if he ever cheated, I would leave. But I had two small children and we were struggling financially. I didn’t know how I was going to make it.

I was still in love with him too.

I decided to believe that it would never happen again. But over the years I suspected more and more that he was being unfaithful. He guarded his phone and there were times when he would slip up and say where he had been while he was away.

I learned to ignore it. But it wasn’t just his infidelity that took its toll. Sometimes he would be moody when he came home from work and refuse to make contact or have sex.

In those times I hated him. But at other times he was charming. It was complicated.

Nothing I did was right and he got into an argument with the girls, where he law about their nights out and the friends who come to visit.

During that periodsI hated him. But at other times he was charming. It was complicated.

I often read further Mothernet where women tell you to LTB (leave the bastard). But figuring out life as a couple with kids and a big mortgage is far from easy. We could barely afford to run one house, let alone two.

I tried to break up with him a few times, but he promised things would get better, and they would stay that way for a while.

When I heard him joking with the girls, I thought it was worth it.

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I don’t know what would have happened if he hadn’t died in January of last year. It came out of nowhere.

Maybe he was tired, but there were no warning signs.

The first few days I was numb. I went into overdrive with organizing. But gradually a sense of relief came.

I no longer had time to think about staying or leaving, and my financial worries were also over.

He received a large death benefit and had an excellent life insurance policy, and I would receive income from his pension. The peace of financial security cannot be underestimated.

For the girls it was easier than it could have been: he was away so often that they were used to the three of us being together.

Sex had been connected to John and complicated feelings for so long, and this was simple and pleasurable.

After sleeping with a man before the funeral, I had sex with five other men, all younger than me. I found them on apps and met them for emotionless sex.

Sex had been connected to John and complicated feelings for so long, and this was simple and pleasurable.

But after seven months I found it unsatisfying and I had therapy to sort out my emotions. It helped.

In January, a year after John died, I met Rob*, a plumber. He’s funny and nice. It feels good.

The girls struggled with the thought of their dad being replaced but now love Rob and he moved in with us two months ago. He is also financially stable and I am loving not having to work anymore. I am going swimming and am slowly redecorating the house. The migraines that plagued me during my marriage are gone.

Some of my friends are jealous. One told me she wished her husband had died instead of divorcing him. They all knew where they stood with the repressed Carolyn, who skipped girls’ nights out because she couldn’t afford them and admitted she was in an unhappy marriage.

It’s like the “big” friend who loses weight and looks great. It upsets them.

Oddly enough, I don’t regret staying with John. Fate took its course.