Is it wrong to go on a fake date with my gay best friend to prove a point to my husband

The Dinner Date That Broke the Marriage

My husband cried for the first time in our marriage after I wore the red dress he bought me to a $500 dinner with my gay best friend. So, I let him walk out without a word. That was eight months ago. Yesterday, his sister texted to ask if I still wanted to be notified when he gets engaged.

My husband gets super jealous whenever I spend time with other guys, which I honestly don’t get. A lot of my male friends are good dudes, people I’ve met out at bars who are going through tough times and just need someone to help them out. Sometimes I take them on lunches or walks to be there for them, like a good friend should. I understand that it may sound bad, but these guys are genuine friends of mine, and neither I nor them have any foul intentions.

One of these guys I met is named Alex. Alex is gay and we met at a club. We kind of just got talking and by the end of the night, I could tell we would make great friends. I told my husband about it the next day and he seemed less than thrilled that a guy approached me at a club. But once I said he was gay, my husband seemed okay with it.

I have known Alex for about two years now and I can confidently say he is my best friend in the whole entire world. He spoils me, buys me things, pays whenever we get coffee or lunch and all these other things. This would raise some suspicion in most cases, but he is gay and I believe that.

Well, my husband has been less than happy about it. He has grown to hate Alex the most out of any of my male friends and I cannot understand why. Alex is gay for Christ’s sake.

Whenever I mention Alex, my husband gets annoyed. Literally last week, my husband came home from work and asked me about my day.

I responded by saying that Alex took me to the amusement park and we went to get food. He got mad at it.

He did not yell, but did angrily say that Alex is clearly in love with me.

He asked me what man buys a girl lunch once a week, takes her to amusement parks, buys her shoes, kisses her on the cheek and photos, gets her a Gucci bag for her birthday, has her meet his family and so on without liking her.

Well, this set off a huge argument with my husband where I defended Alex, saying he is just a good friend and he is thankful for how I have helped him and this is his way to repay me for my help.

My husband responded sarcastically, “Repay you by buying you a $700 Gucci bag?” “Yeah, sure.”

The argument escalated and we ended up sleeping in separate rooms for a few nights and not speaking much. A few days later, my husband came to me and apologized, saying he was sorry for losing his cool, but my relationship with Alex makes him uncomfortable and that Alex is clearly not gay, but pretending to be so he can get closer to me.

I told my husband I understood his concerns and told him I had set up something to prove him wrong. My husband looked confused and asked me what I had done.

I told him that yesterday I thought long and hard about what he said and that I came to the conclusion that I can see why my husband feels the way he does regarding Alex. So to prove to my husband that there is nothing going on between us and that Alex has no intentions, I invited Alex out on a romantic dinner date.

I told my husband that I will dress very nicely and see how Alex acts. My husband blew up at me, calling this emotional cheating and that this is unacceptable, that this is me showing Alex that I am indeed interested and enabling his pursuit.

I told my husband he is being ridiculous and that I’m doing this to prove to him that Alex is not into me, which is something that I know, but he clearly does not. He stormed out of the room again.

This happened yesterday and the dinner is today. Alex texted me a few hours ago if we could spend some time together after the dinner, too, as he needs to get something off his chest and would really appreciate me being there.

I told him of course I could, so we’re going back to his to discuss whatever is on his mind after the dinner. I told my husband this earlier, and this time instead of exploding, I saw him cry. This is the first time I have ever seen my husband cry in front of me, and it is over my gay best friend wanting me to be there for him.

I tried to talk to him, but he told me to leave him alone. It’s now a few hours until the date, and my husband refuses to speak to me. However, I’m going, whether my husband likes it or not, it’s for his own sake.

I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, applying the final touches of mascara. The red dress I’d chosen hugged my curves perfectly, and I’d spent extra time on my hair, letting it fall in soft waves past my shoulders.

My hands moved automatically, adjusting the necklace Alex had given me for Christmas last year. The diamond pendant caught the light, sparkling against my skin. The bedroom door remained closed. Davis hadn’t come out since our conversation earlier. I grabbed my purse from the dresser, checking to make sure I had everything.

My phone buzzed with a text from Alex confirming our reservation at Laberna Dana, the fancy French restaurant downtown. He’d made the reservation weeks ago, apparently, which struck me as odd for a casual dinner between friends.

I knocked on the bedroom door before leaving. No response. I pressed my ear against the wood and heard nothing. Maybe he’d fallen asleep. I left a note on the kitchen counter explaining I’d be back late and not to wait up.

The Uber ride to the restaurant gave me time to think about Davis’s reaction. His tears had caught me off guard. In five years of marriage, I’d never seen him break down like that. Not when his father died, not when he lost his job last year. But this somehow had pushed him over the edge. I shook my head, frustrated by his inability to trust me.

Leernown was exactly the kind of place Alex loved. Dimly lit with candles on every table, soft jazz playing in the background. The hostess led me to a corner booth where Alex was already waiting.

He stood when he saw me, his eyes widening as they traveled from my face down to my heels. “Sarah, you look absolutely stunning,” he said, pulling me into a hug that lasted a hit too long.

His cologne enveloped me. The same expensive scent he always wore. He pulled out my chair before sitting across from me. The waiter appeared immediately with champagne. Dom Perin, I noticed from the label. Alex must have ordered it ahead of time.

He raised his glass, his green eyes locked on mine. “To us,” he said, clinking his glass against mine.

I took a sip, the bubbles tickling my nose. Alex had already ordered for both of us. He knew my preferences after two years of weekly lunches. The appetizers arrived quickly. Oysters for him, esargo for me. He watched me eat with an intensity that made me shift in my seat.

“You seem nervous,” he observed, reaching across the table to touch my hand.

His fingers were warm against mine. “Just thinking about Davis,” I admitted, pulling my hand back to reach for my water glass. “We had another fight about you.”

Alex’s jaw tightened slightly. “He still doesn’t trust me.” “He thinks you’re pretending to be gay to get close to me.”

I laughed at the absurdity of it. “Can you believe that?”

Alex didn’t laugh. He took a long sip of champagne, his eyes never leaving my face. “And what do you think?”

“I think my husband is being ridiculous and jealous.” “You’re my best friend, Alex.” “Nothing more, nothing less.”

The main courses arrived. Lobster thermodor for me, duck confeit for him. Alex had ordered a bottle of wine to pair with the meal. Something French and expensive that he pronounced perfectly when the smellier presented it. Throughout dinner, he kept finding reasons to touch me, brushing my hand when reaching for the salt, his knee pressing against mine under the table.

“Remember when we first met?” Alex asked suddenly, swirling the wine in his glass. “That night at the club, of course.” “You saved me from that creepy guy who wouldn’t leave me alone.”

“I watched you for an hour before that,” he admitted. “You were dancing with your friends, laughing.” “You had on this silver dress that caught the light every time you moved.” “I knew I had to talk to you.”

Something in his tone made me pause midbite. The way he was looking at me now with such intensity, such focus, I pushed the thought away. Alex was gay. He told me about his ex-boyfriend, about the clubs he went to in the village. This was just how close friends talked.

“That’s sweet,” I said, trying to keep my voice light. “I’m glad you did.” “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’d never have to find out,” he said quietly.

The waiter cleared our plates and presented the dessert menu. Alex ordered chocolate sule for two without asking if I wanted to share. When it arrived, he insisted on feeding me the first bite, his eyes darkening when I licked a bit of chocolate from my lips.

“We should probably get the check,” I said, suddenly aware of how intimate this all felt. The candle light, the champagne, the way Alex hadn’t stopped staring at me all night. “What’s the rush?” He signaled for more wine. “Davis isn’t expecting you back anytime soon, is he?”

“No, but you said you had something you wanted to talk about, something important.”

Alex’s expression shifted, becoming almost vulnerable. “I do, but not here.” “Let’s go back to my place like we planned.” “I have something to show you.”

He paid the check without letting me see the total, though I caught a glimpse. Nearly $500 for one meal. The valet brought his car around. The same black Mercedes he bought last year. He opened my door, his hand on the small of my back as I slid into the leather seat.

The drive to his apartment was quiet, except for the soft classical music playing through the speakers. Alex kept glancing at me, his hands gripping the steering wheel tighter than necessary. When we stopped at a red light, he turned to face me fully.

“Sarah, I need to ask you something and I need you to be honest with me.” “Of course.” “Why did you really ask me to dinner tonight?” “And why did you dress like that?”

I felt heat rise to my cheeks. “I told you to prove to Davis that there’s nothing between us, that you don’t see me that way.”

“And if I did, see you that way?”

The light turned green before I could answer. Alex accelerated, taking the turn to his building’s parking garage, sharper than necessary. My heart was pounding now. Davis’s words echoing in my head.

But no, this was Alex. Gay Alex who’d held me while I cried about work stress, who remembered how I took my coffee, who sent me funny memes throughout the day. His apartment was on the 15th floor, overlooking Central Park. I’d been here dozens of times, but tonight felt different.

Alex poured two glasses of wine from a bottle that was already open on the counter. His hands shook slightly as he handed me mine. “Sit,” he said, gesturing to the couch. “Please.”

I sank into the soft leather, hyper aware of how short my dress was when I crossed my legs. Alex sat beside me closer than usual, our knees touching. He set his wine down without drinking it and took both my hands in his.

“Sarah, I’ve been wanting to tell you something for a very long time, but I was scared.” “Scared of losing you.” “Scared of ruining what we have.”

My mouth went dry. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. “Alex, please let me finish.”

His grip on my hands tightened. “When I met you that night at the club, I was immediately drawn to you.” “Not just because you’re beautiful, though God you are, but because of your laugh, your kindness, the way you light up when you talk about things you’re passionate about.”

I tried to pull my hands away, but he held firm. My heart was racing now, panic setting in. “You’re gay,” I said weekly. “You told me about James, about the breakup.”

Alex’s laugh was bitter. “There was no James.” “There was never any boyfriend.” “I made it all up.”

The room spun. I yanked my hands free and stood, nearly knocking over my wine glass. “What?”

He stood too, reaching for me. “I knew you were married.” “I saw the ring, but I also saw how he didn’t appreciate you.” “How he took you for granted.” “So, I told you I was gay, knowing it was the only way you’d let me get close to you.”

“You lied to me for two years.” “I didn’t mean for it to go on this long.” “I thought maybe your marriage would end naturally or that you’d develop feelings for me despite thinking I was gay.” “Every gift, every lunch, every moment we spent together, I was trying to show you how much better I could treat you.”

I backed away, my heel catching on the rug. Alex steadied me, his hands on my waist. We were close now, too close. I could smell his cologne, see the desperation in his eyes. “Tonight, when you asked me to dinner when you showed up looking like this,” his voice was rough. “I thought, “Finally, finally, you were ready to admit what’s been between us all along.”

“There’s nothing between us.” I pushed him away, my voice rising. “You’re my friend, my gay best friend.”

This whole time, the full weight of Davis’s words crashed over me. every warning, every argument, every time he tried to tell me something was off about Alex. The expensive gifts, the constant attention, the way Alex always found excuses to touch me, to be near me. How had I been so blind?

“I’m in love with you, Sarah.” “I’ve been in love with you since that first night, and I think deep down you love me, too.” “Why else would you come here tonight?” “Why else would you dress like that?”

“Agree to dinner at the most romantic restaurant in the city to prove my husband wrong.” I was crying now, mascara running down my cheeks. “To show him that you weren’t interested in me.” “Oh, God, Davis.”

I thought of him at home, crying for the first time in our marriage. He’d known somehow he’d seen what I’d been too stubborn, too naive to see.