It would seem that I’ve stirred up some stuff about cheating spouses, angry wives, and mistresses bearing the brunt of the blame with my last post. I guess I’ve really been healing up nicely… I forgot how I desperately crawled through the internet looking for some answers to questions that weren’t even clear to me, and how easy it was to read things into what people said that they might not have meant.
I admit, I did not see the quick post about not being harsh with women who’d been hurt stirring up so many people’s emotions.
In an effort to explain my reluctance to verbally bash all Other Women for their membership in the club that ruined my own marriage. I’d better spill something that I failed to address during the The Dark Year, when Chef and Tanya were the new Chef and Bird, and I was just some lunatic codependent living in the ghetto who was writing her crazy on a blog for the world to read.
I won’t lie to you and say I didn’t think about this a lot while I was terrorizing Tanya. I did. I have a conscious.
Here it goes.
The man who is actually Rebekkah’s biological father was married, and we lived together for a couple of months before I kicked him to the curb for cheating on me.
Horrible, right? I was The Other Woman.
The problem with living a life being dictated by only black and white scenarios is that rarely does anything in life ever really falls in either of those categories. Most of what a person does that really gets our attention started long before a bad decision is made.
I’d been trying to find a way to leave home. I was attending college, but still living with the person who molested me, and I felt almost desperate. I’d asked a relative who lived in the same town if I could live with her, and she didn’t want to become involved in this sordid mess, and flat told me no. Don’t you just love family??
I worked the evenings at a 24 hour restaurant, and had gone on a couple of dates with a guy I liked okay. I will admit, I would have seduced Norman Bates if I thought it would buy me a ticket out of the hell I’d been living in for years. Turns out, a misunderstanding and a guy afraid I would tell his secrets were about to take care of my problem for me.
I went to work as usual, but a few hours later, I began to feel sick. I spoke to my manager who let me punch out, and then I called home for a ride. No one answered, so I left a message. My manager had me lie down in the break room. I fell asleep…and woke up there the next morning!! I called and called home, and still got no answer. Finally, I called the guy I’d gone on two….TWO…dates with, and he came and picked me up to take me home. When I arrived at my house, all of my things were in garbage bags on the lawn and my family were all in the house ignoring my calls and knocks. The person who could be hurt by my knowledge had decided that since I hadn’t come home that night, it was the perfect opportunity to kick me out, and my mom was soothed by scriptures about rebellious children and how it was God’s will to make me suffer so my soul would not be lost.
Sidenote: I hate when people twist the Bible to justify something a moron naturally knows is just plain wrong. I ended up smack in the middle of the stupidest “Christian” crap constantly. It’s a wonder I didn’t go atheist….
Patrick, my two-date guy, was freaked out. He did not come from a dysfunctional family, and the experience of witnessing it worked in my favor. He was angry on my behalf. He loaded the sad two sacks of junk and clothes my family had packed for me up in his car, settled a stunned me in the front seat, and I found myself living with a guy I didn’t know.
A few weeks later, Patrick and I had just signed a lease on an apartment. I felt grateful to have a place to live, and more than a little unsettled about living with a man who had some glaring flaws. Patrick was, and is to this day, the most intelligent human being I’ve ever met.
He is the kind of guy that does long multiplication in his head, and then explains how that number is the equation that explains how a cow in Africa’s hair color is related to the orange orchard that his father worked in as a kid….Bizarre, but I believed him. If anyone would know, it would be him. I spent a great deal of time listening to stuff that made no sense to me and nodding when I thought it was appropriate. He never seemed to notice or care that I was never adding anything to any of our conversations. He was obviously just happy to have a captured audience. I remember thinking this must have been one lonely kid…
The night before the big move to our apartment, we were awakened by a pounding on the door of the trailer we had been staying in. Incidentally, it was parked in his parents’ back yard. I could go all sorts of hilarious places with just that, but I won’t. He did give me Rebekkah after all.
Patrick jumped up and headed towards the door, telling me to stay in bed. I’m pretty sure we both thought it was a cop. It was worse. It was an angry wife.
Patrick recognized her voice screaming obscenities before he made it to the door, and instead of answering the door, he had a yelling match with her through it. She knew he had a girl in the trailer with him. In other words, she wasn’t retarded. Why else wouldn’t he open the door?
After he tried lying to her about me, he then resorted to name calling. I don’t remember much about what she was saying. I remember her crying. I remember thinking Patrick was a douche, who’d taken me on two real dates while he was married to a woman who was home taking care of the kids.
I also remembered I had no where else to go.
This guy had failed to mention a wife, and five stepkids he’d raised for years. It had been bad enough being a Fornicator. Now I was also an Adulterous Woman. I felt pretty positive that Patrick wasn’t going to be the true love of my life. I watched in pure horror as this professionally dressed, attractive woman pulled off a high heeled shoe and beat it against a window in an effort to break inside. I hadn’t ever experienced having my heart broken, and frankly, it was just unsettling to watch her act like a complete nut job. I tried to blend into a corner in the living room/dining room/bedroom and not be noticed.
The wife, on the other hand, could notice nothing else, and it was the site of me cowering in a corner that made her hell-bent on getting in that trailer. What seemed like an eternity went by before she limped back to her car, broken high heel in her hand, and drove away. I tried tentatively to discuss his marital status, but Patrick was upset about his wife flipping out, and needed time to think. We went to bed, both of us doing a lot of thinking.
In the end, I moved in the apartment with him, knowing full well he was married, and that his wife was devastated by what he had done. It didn’t matter an iota to her what my story was, or the reason I had ended up in bed with her husband.
We lived a very unpleasant existence together for a few months, and then I found out about my pregnancy. He was delighted to have a baby on the way…not. We had a fight, I went to work, and the next morning, I caught him in bed with two...two...women. I did not love this guy, and it was pretty apparent when I flipped out over them trying to steal my clothes, and not saying all that much about finding them both naked in bed with my boyfriend. After they left, I tried to talk to Patrick about all of this, and he locked himself in the bathroom and wouldn’t come out. Two hours later, Patrick still hiding in the bathroom, I had a suitcase packed, a relative on the way to get me, and I was shipped off to live with some distant relatives in Central Texas. Rebekkah was born and the rest is history.
I tell this story to say this: there is always a back story. The people who want to like me will tend to agree that me being The Other Woman was strictly by accident, and Patrick is the Douche Bag in our scenario. People who don’t like me will wonder why I didn’t call those distant relatives instead of moving in with him after I did know. Life is all about a point of view.
What happened in the case of Chef and Tanya and myself can’t really compare to my experience being The Other Woman, other than I learned first hand how pain can make a normal, intelligent woman beat a window with her high-heeled shoe. It isn’t a mystery to me anymore.
I don’t judge people mainly because at some point or another along my way. I’ve committed sins that disqualify me. I’ve struggled with addictions, sexual promiscuity, and fornication. I lived for almost a decade with Chef before marrying him. Don’t even get me started on what most people consider smaller sins….cussing, lying, taking revenge for perceived injustices, not honoring parents, letting things be more important than God…I think you get what I’m saying. There aren’t many commandments that I haven’t trampled on repeatedly on my way to this moment. I’m a Christian who has blown it a lot.
I know first hand how much a person who is forgiven so much feels toward the One who forgave her. It is no small thing for me to try in some small way to spread that feeling around to others who probably need it as much as I did.
19 responses to “Everyone Has A Back Story Too”
I was going to leave a comment on the other post but wound up here instead. Yes, it would seem the idea of cheating does stir up emotions doesn’t it. I too have sat on both sides of the fence with the same man even. I find it interesting that it is so easy to villify the other woman. I guess it’s easy to make a demon of the other woman than to look in the mirror and admit the faults within yourself that would lead a man to stray or to admit that the husband is really defective merchandise. Sometimes the wife is a good woman and the man cheats because the is a sociopath—sometimes not in all cases but certainly in my case. But what most people forgot is that there are two victims—the other woman and the wife. Men that cheat don’t just walk up to a woman and say hey I’m married let’s have an affair. No what they do is get you hooked and then the truth that they are married comes out along with lies that we chose to believe such as, ” we have already discussed getting a divorce” and ” we don’t sleep in the same bed” and “we are just like roommates now”. Sure we believe that crap because we are in love with the douche and want to believe he really does care about us. The only thing a man like that cares about is getting off. No woman in her right mind gets involved with a married man–notice I said right mind. The only person to be blamed, to have anger and rage at is the husband man who was cheating. Someone had left a comment on the other post that the other woman deserves all she gets because she cheated also. Hmnn, I beg to differ. When I was involved with the married asshole I wasn’t cheating on anyone–I did not have a husband or a boyfriend. I was not the cheater at all. The cheater was the man who had a wife, kids and responsibilities that he was cheating on. The other woman is not the cheater unless of course she is also married to somebody else. So lets put all the blame, anger and rage where it really belongs—on the man or person who is married and broke their vows. Let’s not paint the woman as the bad person be it the angry wife or the other woman–the only real culprit is the married man. Why is it that as a society we are so quick to forgive the married man and lay blame on the other woman or the so-called sexless wife?
Isn’t that the age old question though? My answer for myself, I find that we don’t attack the man because we consider then too stupid to help themselves. We always assume women are so much more skilled in the art of seduction. We forget how we’re all suckers for being loved. Men know what to say to make it all okay. It’s sad all the way around. That commenter has a rough path ahead of her. Life had a way of teaching us what it feels like from a different point of view. I learned to be careful long ago. I hate eating my own words later and looking like a fool.
I agree that commentator has a rough road ahead because it seems she only wants to blame the ow and is not looking at what caused the situation in the first place–at least this is the impression I am getting based on the response she wrote–I could be wrong. We never really move forward until we look at the why’s and not just the who. For example, years ago I was taking fancy balloon art lessons from this older guy (well older than me at the time) and the know I had a boyfriend and one day out of the blue he says to me, I would never cheat on my wife but if I did it would be with a woman like you. I pretended that I did not hear him. And that was the last balloon lesson I had with that person. What was he expecting me to say, hey sure I’ll have an affair with you–never mind the fact that my boyfriend at the time was a hunk and 8 years younger than me. Was that line a come on? I never did or say anything to make that man think I would have sex with him–shoot my boyfriend even came with me a couple of times for lessons as well. Again I believe that all blame goes to the man.
sorry, but it takes three for cheating, one to do it, one to do it on, and one to do it with… you dont get off free because you didnt have a third. you were the third. you let it happen just as much as the other two.
i think this is why i try not to make it all about her…
ive been the third once before… i was 17… and i had no idea people *our* age would even be married, so i didnt even think to ask… i just assumed, since he was chasing, all was fine, and i went with it… id never really known dishonesty in my sheltered little life heh. he took me to a party, where i met all his friends, one friend said to me… you know hes married right? WHAT THE? i took off, i got lost, he found me, i got in the car, i threw stuff out of his car, i ran away again, this was before everyone had cellphones… i was miles from home and i had to walk until i found a gas station, and then wait for someone to come and get me… best night ever! i looked him up since my own d-day… theyre still together, with a bunch of kids… i desperately hope she never found out about me, and if she did, (i assume so, since i met all his friends :/) that my running away helped her out a little bit… but i doubt i was the only one…
You are right. It takes three. You probably saved yourself all kinds of misery down the road.
didnt stop the heart break i felt seeing her pictures (the wife) and whispering sorry to her heh.
i saved myself an ass kicking at least! glad i lived on the other side of town heh.
Let me guess the friend that said he was married was a woman, right? Because in my experiences I find that male friends cover for each other in situations like that.
no, unfortunately… it was a male friend who thought i was fair game for him too!
I am so sorry that happened to you. Men can suck sometimes–but not all men are bad. I really believe that there are some good ones out there, somewhere in the world……..
thank you 🙂 but its ok, it was a bit of an eye opener for sure!
there are good men! i know heaps of them! unfortunately theyre all related to me! lol.
well, shoot send some of them my way 😉
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I’m horrified at some of the situations you’ve found yourself in Bird. What makes it worse for me is hearing that your parents ( parent?) threw you out. I dearly hope that the person who molested you paid a price for doing so and I hope the secret came out fully so your mother knew and then understood what she’d done to you. As a parent she owed you a duty of care and she fell down badly on that.
As for being the other woman, in this case I’d say you bore none of the blame at all, but I can’t agree with Ivonne that it’s just the men to blame as they’re the cheats. Men who do that are scum since no matter how bad their wives may be (in their eyes) they have the option of honesty, separation and divorce rather than cheating. But some of the ‘Other Women’ know full well that their partners are married and it’s despicable for one woman to treat another woman so shabbily. If she wants to be with that man she can insist he separates from the wife properly before they have a relationship. Remember though ladies, what he’s done once he can do again, and probably will.
I’m one of those lucky men who liked his cake and didn’t need to look elsewhere to eat it too. If death hadn’t taken her we’d have gone on forever. If I could wrestle death to get her back I would.
I hope you’re going to be very happy in this new house and get your life and the lives of those around you, fully back on track. You’re a Sweetie.
xxx Huge Hugs xxx
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David, my whole point was that it is easy to blame the other woman but seriously even if a woman is scandalous and goes after a married man he is still the one cheating and to blame if he does pursue that relationship. So what if a woman comes on to him—why can’t the men who are married honor the vows they took no matter what kind of triple chocolate cake is sitting in front of them. Again you are faulting the women when the man who is married no matter what the circumstances is to to blame. A married man should be saying, No , thank you Mam I am married. An unattached woman having an affair with a married man is not the one cheating. Is her behvior perfect, no not at all. But you can’t blame her for the man cheating on his wife. What did she friggin put a gun to his head and say do me or I’ll shoot you? How awesome that you had a great marriage.
You’re always so nice to me, David!
I’ll admit, my life started off pretty rocky. I think though, when you are actually living through it, you get the impression that everyone is dealing with something just plain horrible. I spent an entire childhood trying to find a way to be “normal”, only to find out that “normal” doesn’t really cut it. For me to survive, I had to become tough; but to still be someone I could respect, I also had to remain gentle. It’s quite a balancing act.
My poor mom had her own kind of hell growing up, with mental illness making everything just plain too much to deal with. Some people were never emotionally equipped to be parents in the first place, forget about being a parent to someone who was being abused on top of being neglected. I was super pissed at her growing up, but things looked different when I started the process of sorting through all this crap so I could salvage as much of myself as I could. It was like she was crippled, in a wheelchair. How pissed can I really be that she was unable to walk? She wouldn’t have chosen being this way had she any choice, and she did try her best. Her best fell short, but it was her best. I had to accept that my mother was weak. I have never found that kind of person respectable, and I still struggle with not being a complete dick about weakness.
I did tell her about the abuse years later when her asshole husband dropped her on my doorstep and found himself a younger woman. She admitted that she knew that something was very wrong, but she couldn’t face supporting five kids alone, and chose to ignore it. She was soooo ashamed. I think her knowing made me feel even worse. It was easy to forgive her when she didn’t attack me, or make unbelievable excuses. She admitted to being a coward….that in itself isn’t cowardly or weak. It’s super hard actually. I respected her from then on. She suffered a massive stroke and has been in a nursing home for almost a decade now. Whatever her sins were, she’s paid for them in spades.
The jerk is still free to this day. He is very, very skilled at giving the impression of being an upright, religious citizen. I tried unsuccessfully to have him arrested a few times, but it’s hard to prove things like this. I have forgiven him too. I know his family, and he came by this pervertedness honestly. His day of reckoning may not be here on earth, and frankly, I don’t seriously care. He didn’t destroy me, and that is my best revenge. He’s really, really going to hate the book, though. He shouldn’t have molested a writer, now should he have???
lol–no one should ever mess with a writer. I know what you mean by weakness. I feel the same way about my mother. She was not strong enough to protect us. Her choices that she made had more to do with her own fears than being a good mother. And it’s hard to look at that when I am so fierce about protecting my dogs. I protect my dogs how could you not protect a child or keep them safe. I hate to see weakness in women, I hate to see it in characters in movies. And I hate to be weak–it’s why I never ask for help. I also hate people who hide their evil behind religion or fake spirituality. Wow a lot of hate going on today……
I believe there is disfunction everywhere you look. Genetics make beasts out of lambs and shadows out of kings. The world is messed up. All of us are in one way or another. It’s just how we deal with the disfunction around us that determines what kind of person we are down the line. I will be the first to say I feel for your life story, although I have never lived it. How I would have reacted to your situations I will never know. And your soul’s instinct to survive opens doors you never knew were there. When I was young I was the “other woman”…he divorced, left behind two kids, and we married. Then he messed around with the girl upstairs and I was too clingy and we split a year later. What was I thinking? WAS I thinking? The flow of the river around me just bobbed me up and down, and I dealt with my own mistakes and misfunctions the only way I could. It took quite a few years later for me to find someone who appreciated me and my flightyness and my loose threads. You will too.
Sometimes the vermon of the earth get away with their black ways. Some get caught. The best thing you can do is say by, have a great life, go to hell, and leave them behind in the scum pond they came from.
Doing good, girl.
Thank you for sharing your mistakes, too, Claudia. It is very healing to others when we realize we aren’t the only ones that have made really big mistakes. Your a sweetheart!
I remember reading the Scarlet Letter in High School and it always bothered me that Hester had to wear the Scarlett but the minister she had the relationship with did not have to pay anything. Society is so quick to slap those scarlet letters on woman and yet so forgiving to the men. The men need to be held accountable for their actions but many woman just look the other way because they have financial security or social status in their marriage. Either way you look at this it is a hotbed topic.