The Diary of the Other Woman 2
I am the other woman.
I am not proud of it. But I have to embrace the fact that yes, I am his other woman.
Before you start alerting my parents and labeling me a homewrecker, let me get a few facts clear. I am not living in with him and neither is he supporting me financially. I love my independence too much to actually do that. He is married, yes. But we do not have sex all the time and neither does he make me feel like I am his constant booty call. Yet I am aware that he has a wife and a kid out there somewhere. And maybe other girls, who knows? And that because of too many unwanted factors, our relationship has to remain a secret to almost everybody.
This isn’t a plea to justify my actions. I know what I’m doing is wrong.
I am just stating a fact.
So, why am I announcing this fact now?
Because I don’t want other girls to be in the same state of confusion that I am in right now.
If you ever see yourself going anywhere near that same path, don’t even think about it. Just walk away and don’t turn back. Trust me, I know what I’m talking about.
Being the other woman has its thrills, yes. Studies reveal that the chemical receptors responsible for that feeling of being inlove lasts only approximately three to eight months, but because our relationship has no set boundaries, I am constantly in a state of perpetual excitement. Our relationship neither has any limits nor expectations that if he ends up doing something really nice or really sweet, I swoon over the fact that he actually cared enough to do that for me. I would like to think that he is more honest to me than to anyone else. There is no need for anyone of us to bullshit each other and try to impress, thus, we enjoy each other’s company while simply being our true self. He occasionally surpassses my expectations and constantly surprises me because I never expect him to care for me as much as I care for him.
But I don’t really trust him that much. I admit to keeping myself from falling inlove with him even when I know my attempts are futile because I already love him, probably more than he loves me. I presume that when he doesn’t text me right away, he could be with his wife. That no matter how compatible we both are, somebody else has a bigger hold on him. That no matter how sweet and caring he is to me, I can only be at the most his second or third priority. That even if he did leave his wife for me, some other girl can still come and take up the role I used to portray in his life.
Yes, karma’s a bitch.
We both know that eventually what we have will end. We both know that when things get rocky, or the thrill has ended, or things had stopped being fun for both of us, neither of us are actually bound to work hard to still make the relationship work. I cannot delude myself to believing that I will marry him someday, or else I will only disappoint myself and get my heart really broken.
The life of the other woman is unfulfilling. Yet I stick it out with him because I have never felt this free and this comfortable in a relationship. Except for a few minor hitches, he could have been the ideal man I’ve been looking for.
He is after all the male version of me.
She Must Have Had Sixth Sense That He Was Cheating On Her
[Mistress] Midge s hir… Surprse vsit agen.. dnt tx, il tx u.. mis u. M so sori.Seriously, I have got to break things off with Philip.
I’m halfway to a possible depression. If he’s in town, we can’t see nor communicate with each other, if not for the occasional times that he’s in school for presentations and classes. If he’s out of town, his wife keeps visiting him and we still can’t text with each other. I’m in a lose-lose situation. My friends are starting to think that I’m making my boyfriend up, seeing that they haven’t had the pleasure of meeting him.
I am SOO getting the wrong end of the deal here.
I remember one time when I had skipped a few days of class to visit him outside town. We spent the day cooped up in this inexpensive hotel, most likely capturing the interest of the local gossip mill among the hotel staff. We didn’t care. It just felt great to finally spend some quality time with each other, away from everybody, outside the range of the judging eyes of friends and acquaintances.
“I can’t believe you’re really here,” he said.
“I know. I can’t believe it myself.”
“I seriously missed you.”
“Me too.”
“And I’m really glad that you’re finally here.”
I just kissed him in reply.
It was nice to finally be with Philip. He made me laugh a lot and we found plenty of things to talk about. I found out he was a channel surfer as well and like me, he would barely spend more than five minutes on one channel, before he decides to switch to another one. I found out how wordly and knowledgeable he was regarding current events. I, on the other hand, had a faux pas regarding Hillary Clinton running for presidency. I also found out he loved wrestling shows and never tired of watching them… Okay, so I hate those kinds of shows. I guess that just means he’s not perfect.
We didn’t sleep together that night but he stayed with me until late before heading back to his own boarding house. We had plans to do the next day, places he wanted to show me, and I was looking forward for his duty to end so that he’ll finally be free to come back to the hotel with me.
As I returned from my grocery shopping, I was told by the receptionist that Philip had already taken our room key and was already inside. I knocked on the door and made sure that I had a big smile on my face when he opened it.
When I saw his face, I knew that there was something wrong.
“Did you get my message?”
“No. Why? What’s wrong?”
“Midge’s coming today. Surprise visit.”
I sighed and wearily put the grocery bags on the bed.
“Okay…”
There was really nothing more to say. I couldn’t get mad because who would receive the brunt of my anger? Philip? For what? He didn’t force me to be with him. I went into this knowing what I was getting into. Midge? She was the wife. She had the right to visit him whenever she pleased. If I had to get mad, I would have to get mad at my own self. There was always the possibility that something like this might happen. I knew that. I should have been more prepared for this. Therefore, I AM to blame for the own tragedy of our situation. I AM the other woman who has entangled herself in their web. I AM the outsider. I am the WHORE.
So, I took a deep breath and managed to fake a happy face for Philip.
“Hey, we still have a few hours together. Let’s not waste it on depressing thoughts that we have no control of.”
He hugged me. “I’m so sorry about this. It’s my fault.”
“We knew there always the chance that something like this might happen anyway. And now it did. We can’t really do anything more about it. And we’ll just be wasting our time thinking about it. Let’s just enjoy what little time we have left together.”
For the next hour, we tried to forget about everything else and just lost ourselves in each other. Afterwards, I made him leave a little earlier than he was supposed to. As I closed the door behind him, the tears I have managed to hold back a while ago finally fell down furiously down my cheeks.
And I finally cried for the love I didn’t possess for the umpteenth time.
The L Word
It’s been five months since Philip and I started seeing each other and we have yet to say those three little words to each other.
The thing is I don’t want to be the first person to say that in the relationship.
To be the first person to say that would implicate a much bigger expectation from me, like I’m supposed to show him more that I love him and it implicates that HE has the upper hand in the relationship.
JaneDoe asked me once if Philip and I have ever said those words to each other. Considering that we’ve been seeing each other for quite some time, those three little words are just bound to pop up one day. I’ve never told him so and neither has he except for the occasional text messages that “implied” (rather than actually said) that he had fallen for me. Personally, I would like to think that he reads those three little words through the things I do for him, in the same way, that I feel it through his actions and the effort that he does to be with me. I once read that there are five languages of love: words, touch, gifts, time and oh, I forgot the other one, sorry, LOL… Anyway, I would like to think we’re conveying the right language except for words, through all those other languages. I mean, we wouldn’t have made it this far if we didn’t love each other and weren’t willing to take that emotional leap and not see the potential that our relationship might actually work.
Although I have to admit, there were times when I wanted to hear it from him. Maybe he’s just waiting for me to say it first. I really don’t know. For now, the actual verbalization of the L word is simply a mere step and a confirmation of the strength of the relationship that we were both sharing. I don’t want to tell him I love him simply to make sure that he will stay with him. I do not want him to be attached to me simply because he is indebted to me. I want him to love me, because I am me, because he chooses to be with me.
Confronting Your Monsters
This was more, for my own personal sake, rather than his.
I feared for my life.
I feared for my name, my family, my career and my reputation.
I was afraid that Midge would start stalking me and finally, go to my place of work and yell obscenities to my face infront of a lot of people. Personally, I hate confrontations. A couple times, I had fights with ex-boyfriends that ended with me either walking out on the guy or faking crying just so he’ll take pity on me and stop fighting with me. I wasn’t brave enough for face to face confrontations.
I was a coward, I admit.
A cheater who couldn’t bear to face consequences.
So I told him about what his wife did. And like a man caught with his pants down, there was really nothing he could say that would make me feel better. All the “I’m so sorrys,” the “I didn’t want you to find out this way,” the “Just when I was falling for yous…” couldn’t take back the fact that he was after all, MARRIED.
And unavailable.
I wanted to scream at him, give him a tongue-lashing that he will never forget, slap him so hard for putting me in a position I swore I would never get into. But I chose not to. The choice was still up to me as to whether we should still go through what we had then. I was afraid but I was also partially bored with my dating life. I wasn’t inlove with him and I wasn’t particularly sure about how he felt about me back then. But I figured, I needed the excitement anyway and if the only choice was a man who understood me so well and was almost perfect, except for the fact that he was married, then, so be it. I figured, this won’t last that long anyway, give or take two weeks.
I think I could still handle that.
So, I stuck with him. With the premise that he will be more careful about keeping me a secret.
Only I had underestimated the factor that feelings gradually do develop through time.
Somewhere along the line, I found myself thinking about him more, even when I didn’t want to. I found myself rejecting dates with other people and looking forward to the next time I see him. And there was always effort from his part. I told him never to text me whenever Midge was around but somehow, he would find time to do so, never missing a day that he wouldn’t let me know that he was thinking about me. We planned trips, vacations and many times I hear him planning a future with me.
I just smile at him fondly when he does that.
Truth is, I don’t want to believe that we might have a future. I don’t want to delude myself into thinking we’re inlove with each other. I am still afraid of falling inlove with him, that is, if I already haven’t. He never asked me if I was. It was enough for me that he was giving me what I needed.
Friendship.
Support.
Passion.
And affection.
And it seemed that it was enough for him that I was there for him.
- Why the hell couldn’t I lash out at him? -
