illicit affairs

I’ve always said “affairs aren’t fair,” it’s in one of my previous posts actually. But, I’ve always had that stance as a victim, never did I think I would be the perpetrator.

For all of my teenage and adult life I’ve thought the worst of people who were willing to cheat. I thought men who cheated were scummy, shitty, hurtful people and the women they cheated with were desperate, ruthless, selfish people. I never saw myself in those ways and I never wanted to be that girl. Now, nine months later, I’m realizing I wasn’t right and maybe that judgement wasn’t warranted.

This past December I found myself kissing a guy at a party, knowing full well he was in a relationship. The act was initiated by him, which he has taken responsibility for, but I was just as willing of a participant. I have a relatively guilty conscience so soon after the kiss, I asked why he would do that to his girlfriend. He replied saying that his girlfriend knew he “did things like that.” 

We spent the next four months sneaking around to each other’s towns, even sneaking off on a weekend getaway one time. It felt so wrong but so so right. It was the most serious relationship I’d ever been in. Going on dates, on trips, traveling to see each other, planning a future, buying each other gifts; I swear it was what I had always dreamed of. Every day I was falling in love with this relationship. 

The hardest days were the days he spent with his public girlfriend and there were a lot. I would wonder what they were doing, sometimes torturing myself with the thought of their intimacy. The blow would be softened when he sent texts complaining about her or outright saying he hated being around her. Those texts were enough to ease my mind until we could see each other again and our fantasy could continue.

I always held on to the hope that he would leave her even though he made no promise to. A lot of times, that hope was hard to find. I couldn’t understand why he continued to spend weeks at a time with her if he hated it so much. Or why he would be in a relationship that he didn’t like when he had a perfect relationship with someone he talked about spending the rest of his life with. But I thought I was falling in love and I continually told myself that if it was going to last a lifetime it shouldn’t be rushed. 

Four months after our relationship started, his public relationship ended. I was never allowed to know the details and I respected that. Prior to their impending breakup we talked about how on X date, we could finally be together: she would be out of the picture and it would be the two of us. Two days before that date he became distant, saying we couldn’t have our perfect relationship yet, he needed to heal and move on from her. More confusion for me. He needed to heal from the breakup that came after four months of cheating? He had already moved on so I couldn’t grasp why he needed that time but again, I told myself nothing needed to be rushed and I wanted to be supportive.

I didn’t know then that we’d have three more of those dates come and go. 

I don’t expect most people to care or feel bad for my continual broken heart but true heartbreak was my experience. When we met, while they were dating, after they broke up. I chased a man I could never have, constantly under the impression that we could be together and have a passionate, lasting love. 

I got shame and self-hatred instead. 

What no one says about being the other woman is that you're in a competition that no one else knows about. I analyzed every aspect of his girlfriend. I noticed the clothes she wore, how social she was, what her aspirations were, her academic success. I compared every part of the life she portrayed on social media to my everyday life. I found things I envied but oftentimes, I found undeniable similarities. It was painful to think that maybe I was just there to fill in the gaps of her that he was missing. Because none of this cured my eating disorder the way I genuinely thought it might, I compared her body size to mine and some nights, even still, all I can feel “happy” about is knowing that if nothing else, I am skinnier than her. 

But the competition never ended there, I compared her relationship with him to my own. Those tended to be the moments with the most envy. He would spend days with her and I would get no more than thirty-six hours. He would go out of his way to see her and when he saw me it was often out of convenience. She would get to show up unexpectedly and I certainly wasn’t allowed to. He would have to take her phone calls when we were together and mine would be silenced. The mascara I got on his shirt as we laid together hours before he went to see her became “dirt from a fall.” I watched him care for someone he said he hated being with without getting the same care in return.

When they broke up we stopped seeing each other as much. My thirty-six hour visits turned into twelve. Instead of texting all day he would wait hours between messages. Falling asleep and waking up together on Facetime turned into thirty minute calls I begged for. A trip to meet his friends turned into a trip with his friends, intentionally uninviting me. 

The woman I was, the woman I was finally proud of became the girl I despised. 

I did things that are disgusting. I involved myself in a situation that is morally despicable. There are people that think my actions will land me deep in hell and truth be told, I probably deserve it. But putting aside morals for a few seconds, I was a naive, lovestruck girl who thought she was being “picked” and who finally felt worthy. In a world where I never felt good enough, I was being treated like I was better than anyone else. I felt like it was possible for someone to love me. I felt wanted. 

In reality, I think I was being used to fill a need that his girlfriend couldn’t meet. I was falling in love with a secret that never had a chance at being anything more than just that.

And I guess, that’s the thing about illicit affairs...