The Diary of the Other Woman

It did not start with the usual hello. It was past midnight and I’ve been fumbling with my keyboard for the last two hours. The past conversations I’ve had that night were lacklustre, boring and generic. There wasn’t anyone that piqued my interest. I was about to go to sleep until the tag brought me you.

Do you read?

Those were the first three words you said. Not a hi nor hello but that. Perhaps, by then I already knew I’ll be in for a ride. I gave you the best academic sounding answer I can. It didn’t necessarily answer the question directly but I tried to portray myself as this smart 19 year-old kid who knows shit beyond her years. Boy, was I wrong. It was FIFA season and you asked me to accompany you to the wee hours of the morning as we talked. The very first set of words we shared is blurry to me. It’s been long gone in the deep abyss of my memories, already churned into pieces I can no longer put together. You gave me your number and I eagerly messaged you as if my life depended on it.

You told me you were 22, only to find out two months later that you were older. I should’ve seen it by now. This enthralled me. The idea of being with an older guy always had its appeal to me. It makes me feel that age doesn’t matter and no delineation will be established.
You were one of those people that started out as a stranger and quickly transcended the borders of being a person I think about constantly. You told me what you do and I bought it; an architect who can’t talk during the day because of work and projects he’s working on. I was stuck at this notion of you for three whole months, alongside the anxiety of finally wanting to see how you actually look like. You never told me anything about the way you look. All I had was your real age and that you play football every weekend. I had to go to a convention and took this time to see you in the afternoon. The field was jam packed with people. Little did I know there was bonfire to celebrate a short-lived victory our university had. I was waiting for your messages, hoping you would show yourself. All the while, I was anxious, scared, and hopeful that the voice I heard on the other end will finally have a face to accompany it. My heart beat escalated as you asked me to wait by the football goal post. My eyes wandered and someone emerged from the crowd. It was you.
It was worth the wait, I thought. It wasn’t. We had dinner. I was off to go home and we kissed. Fast forward a little, we had sex. I asked you to be gentle and you were. You caressed me as if I were precious to you. You kissed me as if you belonged to me. It was a bittersweet first time for us but the revelations that followed destroyed me to the core.

I have a girlfriend.

Those words resonated in my head before we parted and I was never able to ask you questions. I never asked why? Since when? How come? All I knew was that at the train ride home, those words of yours played in my head like an overplayed car tune. It cracked. It replayed. It stuck. Words were never enough for me to describe the horror I felt at that time. I was conflicted. I liked you by then and the question whether or not I will continue seeing you was up. Logically, the answer was an easy no but heave ho! I chose to stay.

I chose to stay despite the fact that you lied to me early on. I chose to stay despite the fact you had a girlfriend. I chose to stay simply because of you. The almost twelve months that I was with you was a whirlwind of emotions. I experienced feelings of ecstasy from your touch. I got high of the little escapades we had. I was hurt whenever you drove me away and say you didn’t have the time for me. I was annoyed whenever you’d tease me. I smiled whenever we spent a good time together and I cried for every time I knew you were with her.

I knew that the thing we had will never go anywhere. I knew that your words were always tainted with lies. I knew that eventually you were going to leave. We stopped talking for months prior your overseas attempt and a few days before your flight. You contacted me.
You asked if we could meet one last time. I was hesitant. I knew the implications and precautions if we do meet. We’re either going to have sex or we’re going to fight one last time and leave everything on a sour note. I was stupid enough to agree and we met yet again at your place. The moment I step foot in your room once again, the familiar smell of cigarette butts in the air were there. Your black guitar no longer hanging against a wall and your bed in its crumpled majesty. Your bed, where all of our sins happened. Your bed where you held, fucked, and talked to me plenty of times. Those memories brought about by that single step slowly brought me to tears.

I was always careful to not cry in front of you. You hate seeing people cry. Believe me, I tried not to. However, every time you spoke that you’re finally going to leave in a few days, I well up. You’re going to gamble overseas in the hopes of employment. I was sure you were going to be.

I’ve said it to you before but I was genuinely happy for you at that time. You were finally going to get the pay you deserve for the amount of work you put into a project. You were finally going to get a better chance at life. I said all these things to you while crying because even if there were sincere wishes for your success, I was devastated. I got so used to your presence that losing you in the next few days were breaking me inside. The realisation that the day will come wherein, I’ll wake up and you were no longer breathing the same air as I was. It pained me because losing you meant I had to start at square one. I cried because by the time you get there, she’ll be there… Your girlfriend was already there,waiting for you. We talked all night until 7 a.m. with swollen, red eyes. I fell asleep, still crying from the pain of losing you.

You still left.

You left without a word and until now, I’ve never heard from you. I never expected to. There was a part of me that wished you’ll keep in contact. It’s almost a year since you left. The tracks of your presence somehow still linger with me but I’m hopeful they’ll slowly disappear.

It would be so much easier if I just hated you. It would be so much easier if I just cursed and despised you. However, it was never in my nature to do that. I’m not proud of what I did nor I advocate it. You were one of my biggest mistakes but you’re not a regret. I admit that a part of me still wanted what was happening. I enjoyed the attention you gave me. I could’ve walked away anytime but I didn’t. They were all conscious yet irrational choices. I’m not proud of what I’ve done.

But meeting you was a lesson in itself. I learned a lot of things about myself. I’ll never compromise and settle again. I’ll never allow myself to be treated like shit yet again. It was because of you that I will fall head over heels a guy who will never value me for what I’m worth. It was because of you that I questioned my self-worth and never will I let that happen again. Can I say that I loved you? Yes, I did.

If by a remote chance, thanks to cyberspace, this reaches you… This will be the first and last time I will ever write about this.

Allow me to tell you that I’m happy for what you’ve achieved and I’m finally getting better. I am better. I will be even better. I have numerous people surrounding me with sincere love and those who will never take me for granted. I’m young and smart. I have so much more ahead of me. You were a lesson in itself and for that I thank you.