I hope “the other woman” is never a part of you life.
I hope that you never have to meet her, or hear about her, or think about her.
Because I hope for you, whoever you are, that she doesn’t exist.
Because I wouldn’t wish that kind of pain on anyone.
Because that kind of pain is something totally different. It’s an endless labyrinth full of twists and curves, and tunnels that lead you to new kinds of pain every day.
The initial pain is thinking about their whole relationship in your head. How intense is their relationship? How long has this been going on? How did it start? Why did it start? Did she not know? If she did know, why? If she didn’t know, how? Why didn’t he tell her? What did he tell her about you? Did he call you crazy? And trust me, after some time, you will be able to see it all, and then some.
And then it’s the pain of thinking about your own relationship with him. Why doesn’t he love me? Why would he be so cruel? Did he ever love me, did he ever even care at all? Was it a game the whole time?
The pain of realizing that everything he said to you, he was saying to her.
That quiet, soft voice that you thought was reserved only for you, he was also using with her.
The pain of realizing that the same lips he used to kiss you, were also kissing her.
That body that you felt so sure of and so safe with, was also holding her.
And then you feel disgusting and dirty.
The pain of having to imagine them in the same places that you once were yourself: his kitchen, his car, his office, his porch. Anywhere you ever were with him, is now tainted by her.
The pain of knowing you obviously weren’t good enough.
Not pretty enough.
Not smart enough.
Not funny enough.
Not talented enough.
No thoughtful enough.
Not enough.
The pain of wondering what is so wrong with you that he needed someone else.
Then the comparisons start; why is she better than me?
The pain of remembering all the times he excused himself from spending time you, that now you have to wonder if it was to spend time with her. You never wondered before what he was doing when he wasn’t with you, because you assumed that he was working, or hanging out with his other friends, or going to the gym, or doing something else productive to society, you never assumed he was cultivating another romantic relationship. How many stupid lies did you fall for?
The pain of feeling absolutely betrayed.
And then, another darker and worse tunnel leads you down the path of wondering how many other people knew about it and didn’t tell you? How many people saw what was going on, but allowed you to stay oblivious? How ridiculous did you look to those people?
That tunnel is where you meet your new friends embarrassment and humiliation. And you just learn to live with them. Because you were stupid and this is what happens to stupid girls.
You were not different. You were not special. You were just another girl.
(…but the secret is that YOU are special one. You have been all along.)
okay. I can’t make you love me with the same exuberance as I love you. You’re young, and attractive, and funny, and smart, and charming, and you still have so many options to choose from, but I can’t be just an option. I need to be the only one. And as petty as you think it is or society thinks it is, I need labels. I get that labels aren’t cool, but listen, I never claimed to be cool. As uncool as I may be, I love equally as deeply, I need someone who isn’t afraid to love me the same way. And I get that you’re just not ready for it, but I can’t change who I am. And you can’t change who you are, and where you are in life. And I’m sorry for thinking that I could force that on you. Your feelings do matter. But I can’t be what you need in this season of your life, and I’m sorry.
momentswithmisty.com 