Sunday, 14 June 2009

• Being The Other Woman

  I've seen or experienced quite a lot of sides to relationships - I'm talking "romantic" ones here.
  
  My first proper boyfriend was David, when I was sixteen. At the time, I was in no fit state to be with anyone; I could barely take care of myself. In fact, I didn't really do that either. I was self-harming and suicidal. I was smoking. I drank a lot. I smoked grade. I abused painkillers. I needed help but instead I found him. I wanted someone to love me and wanted to feel safe. I just wanted someone's arms around me. Instead, he used me for sex. He verbally abused me. He raped me; not in the violent manner that we think of when the "r-word" is mentioned, mind you. I said no. I pushed him away. He lay on top of me and said "Don't worry, I'll be gentle". He would f*ck me so hard, I'd be red-raw and would have serious bruises on my thighs. I had a miscarriage when I was with him, not that he ever found out. It took me virtually a whole year to accept it had happened, and I'm still coping with it now. I never ever told my therapists about it.
  
  Next up was Rick. I was still sixteen and he was twenty-one. When we first met I was, surprise surprise, very VERY drunk. And chain-smoking. And I'd probably had a joint that afternoon. We started making out. However, he'd been with his girlfriend for two years. This was my first taste of the world of "The Other Woman". We see each other virtually every day. We'd talk 24/7. He admitted he was falling for me, but still he had a girlfriend. Eventually, he ended it with her to be with me. I don't really know how long we were together for. I honestly can't remember. But it was over by Christmas. I remember making out with a guy in front of him, just to make him jealous.
  
  Then there was Ferg. This was in college, and I was seventeen. I remember one time, when I was still with Rick, he, I, Ferg and my college friends went out where we obviously weren't drinking underage (!). I was drunk and I sat on Ferg's lap and started to make out with him. Right in front of my then-boyfriend, Rick. Oops. Ferg and I didn't last long. I felt he was being too forward, I guess. I also realised that I wasn't ready to be in a relationship right then. So I called it off. He'd actually split up with his girlfriend for me, as it turned out. I hadn't known that at the start, though. I do remember him kissing me, in college, when he was still with her. Risky business, seeing as she went to the same college and our friends were mutual.
  
  I stayed off the dating scene. Wasn't my thing. Not what I was after. Then November 2008 rolled around. There's this guy that I'm friends with, Bradley. He tours with bands and I met him through a particular one when I followed one of their tours. Anyway, it was the last night. We went to the after-party and towards the end, Bradley and I started to get...closer. Drink does that to you. He went home afterward, before getting a taxi back to my hotel room where we spent two hours being rather, ahem, intimate. He had a girlfriend who he'd been with for a year or more. He's still with her now, actually.
  
  Then it was January 2009. I went to see another band in my hometown. This time, however, I'm not saying who it was. We could get into a bit of a mess if I named names. Anyway, I'm friends with a guy who was touring with them. The band's lead singer needed some makeup because they had a photo shoot for a rather popular music magazine. I had makeup in my bag, so I went up to the dressing room to help (let's call him Rabbit) out. So there I am. The whole band is there. A couple of people touring with them, who I'm friends with, were there. The friend who led me upstairs and goes "Rabbit, this is my friend Sandy. She's the one who can do your makeup". We go out into the corridor and put on concealer and all of that good stuff. After the show, I'm hanging around outside with a couple of friends along with the group of fans. Rabbit's there and we slowly make our way towards him. He sees me and gives me a huge hug, complimenting and thanking me. I give him a cigarette and repeats. At the after-party, there's an obvious attraction. I ended up having sex with him. I ended up seeing the band again and spent 3 or 4 nights hanging out with them. Rabbit, in particular. He had a girlfriend at the time, who I didn't know about, plus a kid. I think they've split up now.
  
  The current situation is far more serious. I met a guy, much older than I am, and we've fallen head-over-heels for each other. He's been married for fifteen years, no children. Anyway, we've written to each other every day. It turned out he'd be in London for a couple of days and asked me to come and visit him. I'm currently sitting in my hotel room as I'm writing this. He came over last night. Spent some time together, went for a meal, before he left to go back to his hotel at something stupid like 5-6 a.m. this morning. He's coming back tonight, and it'll be the last time that I see him for goodness-knows how long. He actually bought me some gifts, including a bottle of Chanel No. 5. He bought champagne. And some Pimm's and lemonade because I told him it's one of my favourite drinks, if not it. This isn't purely physical; we haven't had sex yet. We have a great mental and emotional connection. We have a lot in common and can talk about anything and everything. We think about each other nonstop. We miss each other like crazy when we're not together. I feel safe with him and I feel beautiful. Hearing him tell me that I'm hot, gorgeous, beautiful...he tells me that my body is perfect which is something I've always yearned to be told.
  
  You might be thinking that I'm promiscuous or a whore. Or just easy. Maybe you think I'm some girl who likes to seduce guys. Not at all. After the one-night stand in Leeds, I freaked out a bit. I guess it was the first time that I'd just had 'sex', no strings attached. It provokes some strange feelings. It was fun, yes. But I realised that I wasn't respecting myself by doing that. I told myself that it wouldn't happen again. Then I met Rabbit. Alcohol + lust = sex.
  
  Last October, my dad was about to leave my mum and I for another woman. He was sick of the marriage or whatever and went down to the south of England to stay with her for a few days. He and my mum managed to rescue their marriage, they work at it every day. But it nearly destroyed everything. I couldn't eat, started smoking again and was about to get thrown back into therapy. My mum was a wreck. I honestly thought she was about to have a massive nervous breakdown. I swore that I'd never do anything like that. But in a sense, I guess that's what I am doing. Okay, so this guy doesn't have any kids. But he does have a wife. I've never met her and I don't know what their relationship is like, so I can't comment on that. I plan on talking to him tonight about what's going to happen. I go home tomorrow, and he flies back home on Sunday morning. I can't contemplate starting a relationship with someone without feeling guilty. As if I'm cheating. I also know that if I do sleep with him, then I'm going to be his completely. Rather like Anya in the book 'The Darkest Kiss'. If that happens, I shan't ever be able to be with someone other than him. Well, that's how I feel right now. Things might change. Right now I suppose I'm a mistress. A lover. A guilty pleasure and a dirty little secret.
  
  I seem to always be The Other Woman, nowadays. I'm not sure why. I don't want to sound conceited or big-headed - and you have to understand that I do not look at myself and see this - but perhaps I'm a bit like a fantasy. I have big boobs and curves. People comment that I look sexy, or words like that. Apparently my skin is soft and feels amazing. Again, these are things that I have been told. I'm not making this up.
  
  It makes me feel good. Makes me feel attractive. After years of feeling fat and ugly and disgusting. After years of battling body dysmorphia, anorexia and EDNOS. The way I feel when people say that I'm beautiful, thin, perfect, is absolutely indescribable. Perhaps I allow myself to do this because I want to feel accepted and pretty. I still think that there's something romantic about being someone's lover, but of course, only when you ignore the ugly cheating part.
  
  One of the two main things that I feel as being The Other Woman, right now, is a sense of...empowerment. I have this great effect on a guy and I love knowing that he's crazy about me. I walk around with a hint of a smile because I've read his letters, because I have this little secret. Because people will look at me and not realise that I am in this situation. It's literally a case of 'there's more than meets the eye'. But at the same time, the second thing I feel cheated and perhaps used. Because this guy is married and probably won't leave his wife. I know that sounds selfish and I'm not asking or hoping for anything.
  
  Give me your worst. I'm looking forward to reading anything about how I'm a horrible, selfish whore. How cheating is awful and that I'm a bitch or a c*nt. That I should end it right now. Which we've tried by the way, and failed miserably. When I say we tried, I mean we tried really f*cking hard. Don't tell me to try harder. You also have to realise that you can't help who you fall for. Never in a million years did I think that I'd a) meet him, or b) be in a relationship, of sorts, with him. It was unplanned and a shock, to say the least. I know cheating and affairs are terrible. One nearly ruined the little family that I have left. And I know that this is a bad idea. But I've never met anyone who makes me feel so amazing. So alive.

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