It Hurts To Be ‘The Other Woman’ Too

It was always the backseat of your car. We would use the excuse of “needing to talk” to end up intertwined on your soft leather seats. I knew what I was. The unspeakable, unimaginable, mistress. Yes, that was me.

I had feelings for you and you took full advantage didn’t you? But how can I blame you, when I was just as guilty. I sat there, my hands stroking your back, moaning, but from the corner of my eye, I could see your phone light up with messages from her. “Where are you?”, “When are you coming back?”

It broke my heart, until it happened so much, that I didn’t care anymore. For the one hour we met, I was the girlfriend. I got the cuddles, the forehead kisses, and the steamy sex. I took full advantage, so am I guilty too? Am I guilty for knowing how he likes his kisses, for knowing what makes him moan and what doesn’t?

And once the adrenaline rush died down and he dropped me home, I walked my walk of shame up the stairs into my room before breaking into tears. My time slot was over, my one hour was up. Next week would be a new time, a new “talk.”

I loved him. I loved him so much that I let him, but I craved the physical intimacy too. I felt numb. I was so addicted to him that I kept coming back for more. I wanted clothes flying. I wanted that attention. He could have been kissing my neck and whispering “I love you” into my ears and I was too busy wondering whether he was going to fuck her after he dropped me home.

We had chemistry, but we didn’t create sparks like you and her. We didn’t have people cheering us on, and how could we, I was the mistress.

It was so twisted that I wanted to be better than his girlfriend. He had pitted me against a girl I had never met. I would sometimes see bits of her jewelry or old clothes in his car, but I always pretended to turn a blind eye, and play dumb. When people asked me about them, I smiled and said “Yes, they’re so cute”, forgetting that our tongues had probably intertwined the day before.

Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore. It began to effect my mental health. I started questioning why he couldn’t just be with me, why I was second in line. I cut it off. We’ve hooked up since, he’s single now, but never regularly. I couldn’t do that to my heart and head.

Don’t be the mistress. Don’t get emotionally attached. And please for the love of god do not compare.