Broken Up · Free Write · Letter · Personal · Prose · Relationships · Writing

Letter To “The Other Woman”

To The Other Woman,

You knew who I was, I think that’s what bothered me most. I know, I know, everyone tells me to blame the man, but I expected that from him. You, not so much.

You knew who I was and that we were together. You didn’t care.

I used to wonder why you married that asshole. The one that fucked everything that walked and had a vagina. I thought, you seemed so nice.Why would you be okay with that?

I was at your wedding. There are pictures of us arm in arm. We were not that close, so I wondered where all of your friends were. I only saw people from work and I assumed  family. I found this odd. So why? Why were things like this?

Did it make you feel better?

Did it make you feel justified?

I know you remember the day I confronted you in the car, please know I would do that again, but your chicken shit boyfriend did his best to keep me from ever seeing you again. And you apparently didn’t have the guts to face me either.

I assume he made me, and probably my family, out to be an enemy. People that did not care. People that indulged his addictions and were not actively trying to get him help. You must have known so much better. Did you fancy yourself his savior, with your education in psychology and coming from a “good family?”

I used to think that loving someone would be enough. I loved him and every single of his flaws. I loved him even in the depths of his sickness. I knew I could not change him. So I didn’t try. I wanted him to do it on his own. Turns out he needed more of a mommy, so he found one.

Congratulations. It’s a boy.

I hope you two are happy together. Because clearly from his multiple hospitalizations and relapses on heroin it must be going great. All part of the process you say?

All the things he is doing and saying with you were already done with me.

Him begging, “Please don’t give up on me. I’ll be good. I’m getting better. I’m going to do X,Y and Z…I love you.” He is shaking and crying and throwing up. Your heart breaks looking at this man you love. So you stay and you hold him. You tell him, “I’m here for you.”

Sound familiar? Get used to it. Every two to three months you will hear this same story. And you will believe it. Every time seems genuine, because in the moment it is. But just wait a few more weeks and you’ll get to relive it again. It becomes quite predictable. Which why I assume the year I told him “I will believe it when I see it. And I don’t care anymore,” he soon after decided to find someone new, you in fact. A person that was easy to turn, fresh and gullible, to believe all of his pain and suffering.

Believe me when I say, you are not special. Neither was I. This is what he does with women. We were just caring and loving enough to look the other way. To see good when all he showed was bad. I have to believe that. I have to believe that despite that fact that you are a selfish, adulterous bitch that didn’t care about hurting me, you must actually care about him. Why else would you do this? Or perhaps you are more fucked up then I could have ever imagined.

I hope you know that when all is said and done, I will be your best friend. I will be the only one that understands this insanity, his insanity. But please go a few more years. Oh and live together for 3 or 4 of those years like I did, then we will really have so, so much to talk about.


The Ex