I have a confession to make. I’ve been the “other woman.” And more times than I want to admit. But I’m not strategically malicious and destructive, because here’s the thing…
I never knew she existed.
Either her name never passed his lips. Or I did once hear her name, but she was “just a friend” or his “ex girlfriend” or maybe “she wasn’t anything serious.”
But here’s the other thing…
In the end she was serious, and I wasn’t.
I don’t want pity for being the “other girl,” but I want understanding. While my actions were later deemed ignorant, they were always innocent. All I yearned for was connection, affection, and the opportunity for love. In the end, I had none of those things.
Once I became aware of her existence, I left. Sometimes she would also find out about me, and other times she never would. But I would never let myself cross into the world of being the real ‘other woman’. I didn’t want ‘her’ man. I wanted my own. One that would never do to me what he did to her.
I sometimes hear that “being the other woman is hard.” But I think that finding out you are the other woman is hard. I thought his intentions were genuine (they weren’t). I thought I was the only one (I wasn’t). I thought there was potential (there wasn’t).
In the end, I was just something new and exciting; something fun and entertaining. But something disposable and temporary. She was his stability and security; his comfort and attachment. If he didn’t care about hurting her, could you imagine how little he cared about hurting me?
The truth is, he is still just a boy, who didn’t truly deserve either of us. A man knows a good thing when he sees it, and he fights for what he wants with loyalty and genuine intention. He isn’t distracted by desire. He is focused on commitment. That is the man I want. That is the man we all deserve. And that is the man I hope we all find.
I may have been the ‘other woman’, but now, I’ll never settle for just ‘another boy’.