Being The Other Woman

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In my previous article, "A Personal Story: Addiction and Over-Achieving", I spoke briefly about being rejected and numbing emotional stress. A great contributor to the emotional stress I had been dealing with for the past year was with this failed, I guess you can say relationship... or "relation" I had with a woman. This woman was a decade my senior. She was funny, absolutely stunning, charismatic, intelligent and just every spark of perfect that anyone could have ever imagined. Her communication skills were impeccable. Till' this day I do not think in the time period we were together that we ever argued. She set the bar high for everyone else in terms of setting standards of what I want in an individual. Till' this day when I think about her, my heart springs and blooms red roses. I could not believe that the universe had granted me to be with such a human being. Needless to say, if it is too good to be true, it probably is.

It is no secret that roses have thorns. I was the other woman. The side chick. The mistress. Her Marilyn Monroe. The classic "climbing out the window" scenario before the spouse arrived home. Our text messages were cut short after dinner time and I was probably saved under another name. I was restricted by time slots and weekends were off-limits. What started as a casual fling escalated into a full-blown affair. I was swooned, courted and romanced by someone who initially stated that they would be with me after certain situations had cleared.  Lo and behold, she is still with that person. I denied suitors my heart and curved every flirtatious approach because to me, I was waiting for someone. Her touch was a baseball flying 120mph and my skin was the window, shattering glass in every direction. People would tell me that love like that does not last and when it ended the way it did, the shards of glass that were my skin was being stepped on by pedestrians. Over and over again.

My young and inexperienced soul was deprived of love and I believe and know that she knew this, and ran all the way with it until she ran out of breath and hit the finish line. My heart was exhausted. It ended with a text message stating that the spouse was suspicious and the text was from a family member. Of course, I had believed it in the moment. Looking back on it, she probably realized that it had gone too far and implemented a plan to cut it short without having to be held accountable. When I saw her days after, she had avoided me, left early from places she knew I would be in and generally disappeared. I saw distance in her eyes, I am sure she saw something in mine. I saw guilt, annoyance and frustration in hers. She saw desperation, disappointment and pain in mine.

Actions speak louder than words and I could have spent an eternity bringing up all the lies, adjustments to stories and excuses to dangle in her face but I was the fool already, there was no point in dusting off the jester suit I had already been dancing in. The woman was (and still is) extraordinarily clever. I admired how the world seemed to move around her using her wit and charm. She also kind of raised me. She gave me self-esteem and made me feel more beautiful than beauty itself. She taught me how to cut a steak, act sophisticated, how to be submissive, encouraged me to travel, how to pay my bills, how to manage my finances, how to lie effectively, how to ask for more than the cards I've been dealt, how to have real sex, how to deal with a woman, how to follow my dreams and be consistent and how to find my voice in writing. She even taught me how to properly buy the correct damn bra size (if you ever read this, I will love you forever for this if nothing else). I will always love her because my everyday life has improved because of her willingness to shape and mold me into a functional adult. She was one of the best mentors I've ever had. She was my Christian Grey.

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She pulled the "no contact" move on me and for months I did not hear from her. The vulnerability I had for affection had kicked in and I fell into the pits of addiction, all the while striving for my career. I felt humiliated and ashamed. With all the moments we've bedded together, I've never felt so painstakingly naked. When she did get in contact with me, certain details did not match up. For instance, her spouse was suspicious yet I saw online activity on her end from all points in time. One time after the heartbreaking end-of-all text, during one of the last times I saw her, we were walking to another building when she had warned me that her spouse was going to be in the area for work as an attempt to stay away from her. Total bullshit but when you're under the influence of love, you believe anything. If she told me the moon disappeared from earth's orbit, I would have denied the reflection of the moonlight. Lies upon lies, I mean if she could lie to her real significant other, most certainly she could lie to me. She was literally taking candy from a baby and it was a breeze.

This woman destroyed me. I remember one summer night, sitting on my fire escape around 1 in the goddamn morning crying (drugged on marijuana, Adderall, caffeine stimulants and painkillers) and pinching myself until I scarred. Any pain was better than what I was feeling. I looked up to see the sky change colors and it had became six in the morning. I literally spent hours crying over a person who thought of me occasionally, if ever. How could someone so beautiful be so ruthless? I was fucking pathetic and...really naive. I felt abandoned in the sense of an adolescent awaiting to be picked up from school. The devil in a dress never looked so good. I have to thank her though, I learned a lot about love and how psychologically deceptive and emotionally manipulative it could be (with the wrong person). I also want to emphasize that I highly doubt she had wrong intentions in terms of purposefully hurting me and she did truly like me enough to go through this adventure. However, it was selfish on her part and I wish she could have kept everyone's best interests in mind. I really felt for her spouse though more than anything. What I thought was a forever kind-of-thing, was just an ecstasy of adventure and a fantasy to her. This experience had been the milestone that I think had transitioned me from being a young lady into a woman, although I have a lot of learning to do.

The situation was much more complicated, much more intense and much more detailed than this article and there are not enough words to fully describe the story from beginning to end in detail. I also did not expect her to change her life much, yet she did make me feel entitled or at least made me believe that I was. My story has a classic theme that many women fall into which was being the other woman. The side chick. Feeling powerless and self-deprecated yet infatuated and excited at the same time. The side chick never wins. So to anyone who has been and still is in this situation, they will never leave who they are with to be with you. They would have done so already.

 

 

 

BLOGCrystal Santana