Hello, my pretties! How are you all doing? Well, I hope!
I’m doing well enough, working my tail off but still holding on to some of my sanity (I’ll talk about all I do for work someday… maybe).
But, since some of my sanity has gone the way of the dodo already, I thought I’d share one of my dumbest moments. The moment I was The Other Woman and didn’t realize it right away. Sit down and grab a snack.
I met L in my early twenties, through a mutual friend at a hobby group. L was fine. He was a bit taller than me, tanned, dark-haired and green eyed. He was also smart, funny, a few years older than me (around 28-30, if I’m not mistaken), and interested in the same hobby I was into. What’s not to like? We hit it off pretty quickly.
At first, we just spent some time together after the hobby portion was over, chatting. Then it was out for ice cream. Then it was dinner. Then it was a park, and by the way, I have my daughter this weekend, is it okay if I bring her along? Oh… your daughter. Uh… okay.
He brought her along (I think she was maybe a bit under 2 years old) and it was fine. He was minding her, and the kid was nice. I didn’t have to get too involved in this first outing. Of course, this was about to change.
As we spent more time together, he had the kid come along more and more often (which is okay, he’s her father!) and started slowly pushing her towards me, with a small task here, another there, and you are so good with her… And he seemed to have her much more than the weekends, but that was fine too.
Everything was fine, until he mentioned that he was “still in the process off getting divorced”, and my inner alarms started sounding. I started asking questions about how long they had been separated. Ooops, no, not separated, they were living in the same house, but it was just for the kid. Another red flag. And then, she had gotten pregnant to keep him in the marriage.
Oh, boy. That’s when it hit me like a ton of bricks. I was not dating a recently separated guy. I was dating a married guy. Like, really, truly married. Damn. I can’t even put all my feelings in words. I felt gross. Guilty. Stupid. Angry. At him, at the friend in common, at myself.
No, nothing explosive happened, though. I just told him to go back to his wife, blocked him on everything and the friend was collateral damage. I just couldn’t look at her face anymore and think she had introduced me to that son of a gun.
I was dumb. Really, really dumb. I can admit that now, with a lot less shame than I carried when I found out I was helping a guy cheat on his wife.
Last I heard of him, they were still married. And I’m really sorry I was that stupid.
I’ll take a shower now, because I feel icky again recounting this. I would ask you all to be nice in the comments, but you know what? Let me have it.
See you all on the next post!