Being The Other Woman: Who we are, what every woman should know and how to avoid us (6 page)

After Beth discovered our affair, I thought for certain that we would end at the risk of losing his family. I thought that getting caught would change how he felt about me and our relationship. I was prepared for him to tell me that it had all been a mistake. In a sense, I expected to feel relieved that what was troubling my conscience had come to an end, that the ordeal would be ended before it got further out of hand or to a point where there would be no looking back. In my mind, this was still a quiet and private matter.

Instead, he reaffirmed his feelings of love for me and I learned to trust that his love for me was real. Instead of Beth’s discovery of our affair ending it, in many ways it ended up helping it grow. I was amazed that someone could love me this deeply. Within two days of Beth’s receiving the anonymous letter, I received this letter from Blake:

I’m
sitting
here
like
an
animal
that
has
just
taken
a
bullet,
slumped
over
and
wheezing.
Feeling
like
I
am
going
to
die.
I
know
I
am
human
because
I
have
emotions
of
a
tidal
wave
right
now.
Feelings
that
I
have
never
felt,
and
amplified
feelings
of
newer
feelings
since
I
met
you.
You
are
such
a
wonderful
person.
I
am
fortunate
to
have
met
you.
I
don’t
want
to
lose
you.
I
want
to
run
away
with
you.
I
just
need
$100,
a
machete
and
a
thong,
and
I’m
in
business.
I
need
a
partner.
You
are
the
archetype
of
the
perfect
woman.
You
are
the
most
wonderful
woman
I
have
ever
met.
I
have
been
most
pleased
with
you
as
my
lover,
partner,
travel
buddy,
and
friend.
We
have
been
dealt
a
low
blow
by
bad
people,
but
I
want
you
to
know
that
I
am
certain
that
we
can
work
through
this
unfortunate
episode
of
our
classic
novel
story.
I
know
of
no
other
love
story
more
awesome
than
ours.
You
truly
are
the
best.
I
miss
you
so
much.

Christmas was ruined that year as we adults forced smiles and painfully feigned joy for the sake of our children and our social obligations. I could not wait to tear the tree down and lock it in the basement as a forgotten piece of the past. Christmas has forever been scarred for me as every year that has passed brings memories of those feelings on each new Christmas morning.

For New Year’s Eve, some friends of mine rented several rooms in a nearby ski resort town. The plan was for the adults to have their space and for all of our children to have another space where they could enjoy a supervised children’s celebration while we hit the grown-up festivities. Blake’s plan was to stay in his condo near the resort, but he surprised me by renting a chalet. He planned to leave his condo and spend the night with me. He surprised me again by arriving early at the party we were to meet at. When I spotted him I was talking to an acquaintance, I jumped up with glee and ran to him. I was so excited to just be together and ring in the New Year and our new life. I was immediately disappointed, however, when he accused me of being flirtatious with the acquaintance I was talking to. I had been speaking to the on again, off again boyfriend of a friend who had been inquiring about the friend. I disregarded this because I thought it was Blake’s nervousness at stepping into the unknown, a passing moment of insecurity. I was able to convince him that no foul play was at hand, and we resumed our loving behavior toward one another.

That evening, a large group of Blake’s and my friends entered the establishment. With them was a woman who was a close friend of Blake’s wife. Of the party, one of the men, who was slightly inebriated, approached Blake and chastised him for being seen in public with me. The entire group of businessmen had determined that the affair itself was not a bad thing, but being on public display was. This blew me away. It was not the
sinfulness
of the affair that was being judged, but the fact that it was “flaunted.” What’s worse, several of the men in the group were known to be philanderers themselves. All of this “public” concern increased my belief that Blake’s marriage was a mere social arrangement.

Blake told the man that he was in love with me and that it wasn’t an “on the side” kind of thing. I believed that this was because Blake was different from the businessmen and their shallow lifestyle. But his defense inspired the inebriated ass to become irate and call me a whore. As Blake jumped to my defense, I also came to his defense when I told the rest of the group, “I love him.” With that, Beth’s friend who was with them, pushed me to the floor.

Blake and I left immediately, and when we arrived at our chalet I had a full-on anxiety attack that lasted all night. I had never experienced anything like it. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t settle my nerves, felt like I was on the verge of throwing up any minute. I had an overwhelming feeling of impending doom, as if something had happened to my children or to a family member. Someone was hurt or in danger, and I couldn’t get to them. I could not be still, could not stop shaking. I felt trapped and imprisoned, as if the walls were closing in around me.

The next morning, our group met for breakfast. When Blake finished eating, he said that he was going to go back to his condo to deal with the mess he knew was imminent. He promised to meet me back at the chalet in about an hour, where we were to stay an additional night with my children. I waited for him for a long time. When I didn’t hear from him, I phoned him out of concern. I could hear that he was driving, and he told me that he was back in the city almost home. He said that when Beth had heard about the previous night, she had lost her mind and had been screaming horrible things at him and their children. Chaos was exploding on the home front. He had to get home to calm things down and remove his children from exposure to their mother. I was shocked that he had not phoned me to inform me of what was going on. Why had he just left me there to wait for him? I tried to take advantage of the rest of my rental time with my children, but this incident, in my eyes, signaled what the New Year would entail, and it consumed me.

Blake had done a splendid job of winning me over. He had met all of my needs. Except for one thing: he was married. His marriage seemed to be a sliver in his finger that he wanted to remove, but he couldn’t get it out. It was as if subconsciously he asked for help. Nurturing him came very naturally to me. I likened my help to bringing my tweezers to a child,
this
will
hurt
for
a
second,
but
once
it’s
out,
things
will
be
quite
better
and
heal
rapidly.

I thought that because he loved me as much as he did, it was inevitable that we would share our lives. I believed that our deep relationship would drive him on its own to start the life we had planned and dreamed of. I never thought for one moment that we were not in forward movement. What seems to be the most difficult to convey as I write this is that our relationship was very real to me. Others don’t understand how that is possible in an affair. Blake was everything that I had ever wanted in a partner. I was willing to surrender my life to him. As our relationship grew stronger, I began to realize that this man was the man that I was willing to endure all things with. As we were meeting one day, an involuntary thought flashed through my mind:—I could easily spend the rest of my life with this man for all of the right reasons. The most compelling reason was that he was my best friend and most intimate confidant. I had contemplated marriage before in my past, but I had never in my life been so sure until that very second. He was the meaning of comfort to me. I had never felt a greater or more intimate closeness to anyone before him because of the openness we had in communication.

Blake was consistent in his assertion that I was “the one” and that he was just having a difficult time with his guilt and figuring out how to do things right. He hurt for the hurt that he was causing Beth. I understood his guilt—I felt guilty, too. Certainly not on the same level, but I did feel it deeply. Blake had met Beth right out of high school. She had expectations. She had stuck by him through some hard times, hoping that he would marry her, which he did five years later. She gave him three beautiful children for whom she wanted nothing but the best, which included having their father as an active participant in of their lives. She expected to live out the rest of her years with this man. But he had sideswiped her in every sacred place. I sideswiped her. It is difficult for me to witness someone in emotional pain. It is unbearable to me when I am the cause of it.