Here is a loaded statement: I was in an emotionally abusive relationship with a liar and a cheater. We broke up back in March, before I knew about the cheating. I won't deny it: I most definitely have flaws that I'm sure contributed to our ultimate demise. Regardless, I was so overly sick of crying. I was sick of feeling unappreciated. I wasn't the confident woman he fell for back in September. Her spirit had been crushed. We both needed out.
A couple weeks ago, he tried to win me back.
He made us a reservation. He told me he changed. He loved me. Gorgeous. Confident. He would never hurt me again. This was a forever kind of thing. It was hard to take him seriously considering our past. At the time, I wasn't exactly sure how I felt.
You know who was sure? His girlfriend. As in, current one. Nine days after our Thursday night rendezvous, she messaged me to tell me that she looked through his phone, saw him trying to win me back, and that I should know the truth.
I felt like I was in a movie. My stomach dropped. My heart sank. My jaw felt tense and I felt instantaneously nauseated. Sure, I had seen her name before. Heck, I knew who she was. That Thursday night when we met up, he told me that, yes, they had "slept together once but nothing was going on there." He told me she was just a friend. He told me that she wasn't me.
But there she was, her name, on my phone.
He told her that he had been completely over me since we broke up in February (lie). I was insane (debatable, but no). He kept me in his life because I was unstable and I needed him (eesh). He told her that she was who he wanted to be with, that he needed her in his life, that she was also gorgeous (for my future boyfriend, maybe try calling me beautiful instead). Oh, and about our Thursday night rendezvous? According to him, we met to "clear the air" and remain friends. Heck, at least he told her he was seeing me.
She ended things with him earlier that morning before messaging me, after seeing a conversation between him and me. Of course -- there's plenty more to the story, but I won't bore you with the lengthy details. The disgusting details. This isn't a Lifetime movie, after all.
The harsh truth: Being contacted by the other woman is scary. Is everything she told me the truth? Who knows. I believe it to be. She came off as genuinely nice, caring, and at the end of the day I appreciate her reaching out. Did I cry? For a few minutes, sure. At the same time, though, my semi-John Tucker Must Die encounter was amazing. It helped me put my past behind me. It helped me walk away from a dangerous situation for both my heart and my health. My stress and heavy conscience about a love gone wrong were washed away, and for the first time in a long time, I feel truly happy knowing I'm rid of such negative energy in my life. I can only hope that she can completely walk away, too.
Last night I got off the subway in Brooklyn, headed to cocktails for a friend's birthday. As the warm air kissed my cheeks, I cranked up my music and felt a renewed sense of self. Confidence. As I walked down the street, I realized she was back. Back, smiling, and ready.
Have you ever been in a similar situation? Do you have any "other woman" stories of your own?
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