I’d never given much thought to what kind of relationship I wanted, but after being with that woman, everything changed…

Before you read this, keep in mind that I’m not a native English speaker, so if anything sounds awkward, I hope you’ll still be able to follow my thoughts.

We both worked at the same company, in the tech department. She was a beautiful redhead in her late twenties, very outgoing with the people close to her. She was the senior head of web development, managing teams and leading projects to success. I was just an average guy in my mid-twenties, working as a mid-level developer. At work, I was reserved and professional, but outside of it I loved the party scene. I had my circle of friends, went out often, and had my share of casual dates, kisses, and hookups.

We never worked together on the same team, but from the first time we met there was always a subtle power dynamic between us — first because of our roles (she oversaw and directed operations, while I followed instructions and executed tasks), and later because of my growing admiration for her. Fast forward a bit, we fell in love, started dating, and two months later we decided to move in together. She made almost twice my salary and paid most of the household bills.

I loved everything about her — her confidence, her body, but especially her charisma. I loved how silly and cute she could be when we were alone, her sense of humor, and the way she cared about our relationship.

At the time, I didn’t know anything about FLR — at least not explicitly — but looking back, maybe I was living one without realizing it. She took the lead in decision-making and in the emotional direction of our relationship, with a firm but loving hand. She created a space where I could bloom under her care, where I found strength in her strength, and could be myself without worrying about traditional gender expectations.

We didn’t have a formalized power exchange, rules, or protocols, but she usually had the final word when we disagreed about budgeting, financial planning, chores, standards of quality, sex, or scheduling leisure activities.

And honestly, it all felt natural. Once she took the driver’s seat, that became the unspoken norm. I never felt disrespected, and I didn’t object when she positioned herself above me — subtly pushing me into a lower role. If we disagreed about something small, like which movie to watch or when to do a chore, she’d sometimes tease me with “Do you think you’re in charge here?” She’d look me in the eyes, giggle, and completely disarm me — like a tigress amused at a kitten trying to look tough.

Something inside me started to burn when she put me in my place. When she asserted her dominance — through teasing, firm boundaries, or gentle rejection — I quietly submitted and, at the same time, felt aroused. I don’t think she eroticized this dynamic (at least not consciously), but for me, it was deeply powerful. Isn’t it sexy when a beautiful woman knows what she deserves and refuses to settle for less?

Things began to fall apart when I made a naive mistake. Without my girlfriend’s knowledge, I “hung out” with another woman I’d met on a project. She had just been laid off, and I felt sorry for her, so I invited her for ice cream to comfort her. This woman and I had kissed at college parties in the past (nothing serious), but I had no emotional attachment to her. That night, she tried to kiss me, and I kindly declined and told her I was dating my gf.

That same night, my girlfriend was watching a soccer match in a nearby town. When she got home, I was just coming back from the ice cream shop. I knew exactly how much time I had to get home without raising suspicion — but honestly, I wasn’t worried about hiding it from her. I just didn’t want to bring it up because I knew she was jealous of this woman.

When she got home, she asked where I had been. I didn’t lie — I told her exactly what had happened at the ice cream shop. Still, my girlfriend felt completely betrayed, as if that other woman and I had actually slept together behind her back. She dumped me on the spot. Looking back now, I can see how naive I was — there were a thousand better ways I could have comforted that woman without damaging my girlfriend’s trust. But at the time, I thought that simply having no bad intentions was enough to justify what I did.

Five days later, my ex texted me and said she didn’t understand why I was still talking to someone from my past instead of trying to fix our relationship. To her, it felt like I was saying: “You have no value to me — stay or go, it doesn’t matter”. We met face to face, and by some miracle, I convinced her that she is special to me, that I loved her, and that I wanted to be with her — only her.

We got back together, but trust was never really rebuilt. A clear example of this happened during Carnival. She went on a trip with her friends to one of the biggest Carnival parties in the country while I stayed home (I couldn’t afford to go) to take care of the dogs. When she came back, she noticed that the lube wasn’t exactly where she’d left it — and immediately suspected I had slept with another woman in our house.

(For those unfamiliar, Carnival in Brazil is a vibrant annual festival — known as “the greatest show on Earth” — with samba parades, street parties (“blocos”), and a generally more open sexual atmosphere, where casual kisses or hookups are very common. Probably the closest thing in the U.S. would be college Halloween parties, just on a much bigger scale.)

From my perspective, her distrust grew so much that if I was out of her sight, she assumed I was cheating. This slowly wore down our relationship until she broke up with me again after 8 months.

While we were still dating, she opened up to me about how insecure she felt and how she sometimes even dreamed that I was cheating on her. When I asked what I could do to rebuild her trust, she didn’t have an answer — instead, she put the responsibility on me, telling me to figure it out on my own. I desperately wanted to fix things but had no idea where to start. My instinctive response, driven by fear of losing her again, was to isolate myself more and more — especially from other women.

That desperation didn’t help. I still feel guilty knowing I had a chance to rebuild her trust but didn’t know how. The more I learn about FLR, the more I feel like I lost a unicorn — someone rare and special — and I wonder if I’ll ever have a relationship with a woman like her again. After the breakup, we still kept in touch. Sometimes I even stayed over at her place, and things felt almost like they did when we were dating. But that’s a whole other story — one I’ll open my heart to share another day.

Since that breakup, I’ve been learning about relationships, FLR, and the kink universe around it. From what I’ve seen on this forum, most of you are older and already married. Do you have any advice for me on how to rebuild trust in a relationship?