To the Other Woman Who Needed to "Clear the Air"… Just Don't.

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What happened to me… well, I should say us… is becoming more and more common these days.  It’s sad really.  That this is a normal, nbd type of scenario that so many people have been through.  You, though, you made this one extra unique.  Extra special… and honestly, a living hell for me.

Here’s how it goes…

He lied (to me and to you).

He cheated (on me and on you).

You didn’t know (but I always had that feeling).

Until you did…

Now, normally in this scenario, you would feel bad.  You chose not to feel bad.  In fact, instead of feeling bad you decided to start a half of a year’s worth of shaming, harassment, and just overall inhumane rudeness.  

It started with your call.  First you called me on my cell while I was at work.  I didn’t recognize the number, but it was local so I answered.  It was you.  All you said was, “Hi.  It’s me, XXXXX.”  

I was shocked.  Stunned.  I could barely breathe.  I had barely spoken to him in the 22 days since I’d caught you with him.  But, here I had you on the phone.  Calling me.  All I could say was that I was still at work and that you could call me back later.  You made an offhanded comment about what time I would be done working like you knew me.  

I hung up.  I cried.  I was getting ready to leave for a dinner night with friends.  I was almost there.  Almost back to normal.

Up until this point, I hadn’t said  bad things about you.  I used phrases like, “I’m sure she didn’t know about me so it’s really not her fault” and “she seems like a nice person” and “she’s cute.”  Different than most of these scenarios, I knew who the blame should be placed on.  

Him.  He lied.  He cheated.  Him.

I couldn’t get through the dinner.  I had to know what you wanted.  I had to know what kind of person you were.

You tried to start with small talk.  I could hear your friends giggling in the background  I’m fairly certain you had me on speakerphone, but in these days of Bluetooth technologies, who knows.  You asked me questions, and I answered them honestly.  

And then you said it.  

You said, “I didn’t know about you at first, but then when I found out, I didn’t really care.”

I’ll let that sink in.  You were driving around with your friends.  You were giggling.  It had been 22 days since I caught the two of you together, and I was inching closer and closer to at least putting on a smile and acting like I was over him.  

You brought all my efforts down with 4 words.  “I didn’t really care.”  

I tried to be so strong.  I tried to be level headed.  I tried to be everything that I wouldn’t normally be because thankfully this is not a situation that I had been in before, but I wanted to leave this with a sense of pride and accomplishment that I wasn’t the “crazy girl.”  I told you that I really thought he cared for you and that what you had with him was real, or at least real to him.  You said, “I just thought it was fun.”  

You crushed my entire world with one phone call.  

I tried to give you advice about what I had learned about him over the last 11 months of my life spent with him.  I tried to talk you into taking him seriously.  Seriously.  What on earth was I thinking?  

I know what I was thinking.  I was thinking that if I had to go through this much hurt… This many tears… All of this… Then it had to be for something.  Something bigger than what he and I could have been.

I was rooting for you.  I wanted him to be happy.  That’s how you know you really care about someone.  Not just care about them in an “I hope you don’t die” sort of way, but a true caring for someone and their well being.

I was trying so hard to be everything I didn’t think I could be.  We spoke for 15 minutes before you had to go to be with your friends, and for my own well being I needed to be inside with mine… and back to the case of wine I’d bought shortly after your first call.

The things you said to me and how you were so nonchalant about what had happened… I’ll never understand that kind of cold hearted selfishness.

But I’m glad that’s not who I am and I’m glad I don’t understand it.  I’m glad I felt the way I felt.  All of it.  The ups and downs.  The highs and lows.  

I know that I was a better person than you were in this scenario, but I hope you learn and grow from this.  I honestly hope that you are never put in my shoes.  I hope that in you, he had finally found the one.  Because I still think that something greater than what could have been needs to come from this. 

But, if you do happen find yourself in this scenario again, in either role.  Don’t make the phone call.  Just don’t.

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