From The Straits Times    |

marriage, cheating, mistress, relationship, divorcePhoto:123rf.com

“Hello, thank you for your message. I would like to know more about you.”

This simple message from a man named George* would take me on an emotional roller-coaster ride.

I had sent him a short message via a social networking website – his profile indicated that he was 55 years old, and that like me, he was looking for a friend.

In subsequent messages, he told me he had rescued a badly abused dog. I told him it touched my heart, as I was feeling like an abused animal, having left my 14-year marriage just four months earlier.

Within days, we were chatting online and on the phone, exchanging details about our childhood, families and things that mattered in our lives – as well as romantic feelings for each other. He was articulate, humble and he seemed to be reaching out to me. I felt attracted to him, too.

We never saw photos of each other or asked to see each other through a webcam. He wasn’t interested in my appearance; he told me he knew I was beautiful – from the words I wrote him and my voice when we talked over the phone.

A month into our relationship, he told me he was married.

My whole being yelled: “Why?”

Was this some cosmic joke? My marriage broke up because my husband Mike* had cheated on me. And here I was, in a similar scenario to the one I had left behind. Only this time, I was the other woman.

But when George asked: “Is that a problem for you?” I answered: “No.” The fact that he lived halfway across the world in New York made me feel safe with him. I was smitten. I was vulnerable. And I wanted and needed to be loved again.

How My Marriage Crumbled

Mike, who was the same age as George, and I, had been married for about 12 years when things started to change, around the time he was promoted to a senior manager. He seemed more stressed and distant, and started travelling a lot. He kept late nights and was also away on weekends. It was part of his job, he said. When he was home, he spent his time in front of his computer and only came to bed long after I had gone to sleep.

I was exhausted from my daily routine of managing the household, taking care of our 13-year-old son and working part-time as a teacher. I didn’t pay much attention to the fact that we were just co-existing and not communicating with each other. Not all was bad, however – I had a nice home, and Mike was a good father who provided well for the family.

A couple of months later, I searched Mike’s briefcase while he was at the computer. It was as if an alarm had gone off in my head, telling me he was hiding something from me. I found a business card with a woman’s name on it and a pair of black panties. The time he spent away from home and the hours in front of the computer began to fall into place.

The next day, I gathered up my courage and called the number on the business card. The woman confessed that she had been seeing Mike for six months. They had met on the Internet, but he didn’t tell her that he was married. “I am sorry,” she said, before hanging up.

I spent the afternoon crying. When I confronted Mike that evening and asked why, he just shrugged and walked away. It was a coldness I hadn’t seen in him before and I knew I was alone in my pain.

I tried for about a month to forgive, and to show love, but the trust was gone. Mike moved out of our home, took our son with him and we ended our marriage. The sad part was that I had lost the man who was both my husband and best friend.

Getting Out There

Two months after the breakup, my friends insisted I should get out more to meet people but I recoiled at the thought. I had been married for so long: What did I know about dating now?

So when a friend suggested I join a social networking website, it sounded like a good idea. She told me that I wouldn’t have to go out and that it was safe.

I wasn’t looking to get on the dating circuit again, so it sounded perfect. Besides, who would want to date me anyway? I asked myself this question repeatedly, and it made me delve deeper into the hole of self-pity I had dug for myself. I had always been told I was attractive, but since I found out about the affair, I had gone from feeling beautiful to ugly in a matter of days. I let myself go and refused to look in the mirror. I felt that somehow, I was to blame for Mike’s infidelity.

A month later, I met George online.

Becoming The Other Woman

George made me feel attractive and worthy of love again.

He told me he was in a dead-end marriage and wanted out. Why did I believe him when I had just come out of a similar situation myself? Perhaps some twisted part of me wanted to find out why my husband went astray. It is hard to understand, but at that time, I was in a place I didn’t want to be in. I had been wronged and I was hurt beyond belief.

George and I fell in love within two months. He showed me so much love and attention – which I had lacked for months. He made me feel important by showing me that I mattered as a person. He offered advice and a listening ear. He wrote me long love letters, sent me flowers and called me the love of his life.

I was vulnerable and still recovering from my broken marriage. He was hurt and searching for love. We both knew we were stepping on a landmine, but reason went out the window.

I was now the other woman.

We were exchanging “I love yous” online while his wife was preparing dinner. At times, he would type: “Just a second, she is asking me something,” and would come back after awhile.

Even though being the other woman bothered me, and made me feel guilty, I wasn’t ready to give him up. I also wondered if I was taking my revenge, on my husband who had gone astray, on someone else.

Let’s Meet Then

George told me he was going to be in my city for work and wanted to spend time with me. This would take our relationship to a whole new level. Was I ready for this? What would his wife do if she found out?

I had been in her shoes once and I knew the pain. So why was I doing this to someone else? Did I want revenge? Or did I feel powerful knowing I was still attractive after what my husband had done to me? These questions pounded through my head as the weeks drew closer to our meeting.

Six Days Together

Six months to the day I met him online, George walked up to my house, and into my arms. At that moment, I knew we belonged together. He later told me that he felt pure electricity, although he had only greeted me with a peck on the cheek.

He was not handsome and he was a little overweight, but I thought he was just right. Within minutes, we were at home with each other. The conversation flowed and laughter followed. I felt like I had known him for a very long time.

He was spending six days with me. All I wanted was for time to stand still.

Ours wasn’t a sleazy love affair. Our talks had always been handled with love and respect. And when we found ourselves in bed, it was beautiful. Some nights, we just lay in each other’s arms and talked into the wee hours of the morning, about our dreams and hopes of being together. He never talked about leaving his wife, though. It was wonderful and beautiful, but at the same time, ugly: We were hurting someone and we both knew it.

As the six days came to an end, I broached the subject of our future. He reached for my hand and said: “Let’s not spoil our time together.” So I left it alone.

As I held him in my arms the day he left, something told me this would be the only time we would have together. But I kept quiet as he left me standing at the front door of the home I had shared with my husband. He never looked back.

The End

George continued to call me the days after his visit. I thought there was a future for us. Or rather, I hoped.

Two weeks after he returned home, he sounded stressed when I called, saying he was busy with work and would return my call. Sometimes, it was hours or days before he got back to me. When I showed irritation, he got agitated. When I broached the subject of “us” he’d say: “Don’t pressure me. I can’t give up 30 years of marriage for someone I’ve only known for six months. I need more time.”

The silence between us grew longer. When he finally said: “I have a home here and I have things to do”, I realised that with him, I would never take centre stage. His wife was his reality and I, his dream. He had grown comfortable with his life and she was his comfort zone. I, on the other hand, was living in a make-believe world we had created.

A month after his visit, George told me he felt strangled and needed a break from us to think.

I had known all along that it was coming, but it didn’t stop the pain. But this time, I had only myself to blame. I had gone in with my eyes wide open, knowing full well I was coveting another woman’s husband. I had read somewhere that most married men who have affairs never leave their wives. Perhaps it is the truth.

George stopped calling me and when I tried calling his office, he never answered. I e-mailed and pleaded with him, but I had become persona non grata.

Life Goes On

It has been two months since the end of our affair. I still think of George. Part of me wishes that one day, he will come back into my life as a free man, but something tells me he has moved on. I had just been a break in his marriage. It didn’t matter that he had broken my heart. It is time for me to move on, too.

I’ve since met other men online, but none have captured my heart like George did. Many, like him, say they are in dead-end marriages – I break off all communication with them once I find out. I don’t want to tempt fate again.

 

*Names have been changed.
This story was originally published in the May 2012 issue of Simply Her.