Never Being the Other Woman Isn’t a Virtue
It’s pure luck.
I recently came across a story about the supposed virtues of never being the Other Woman, and while I agree with the overall message of maintaining your standards and not settling for being someone who makes other women miserable, I can’t agree there’s a special virtue attributed to it never happening to you.
While accepting the advances of a married man is a choice, never being the other woman is more a matter of luck than anything else, and for one simple reason: people lie.
You see, the one time I was the other woman, I didn’t know.
All I knew was that a man wanted to go out with me and since he wanted to take me on a date, I figured he was single.
He wasn’t married, but he had a girlfriend, and they had an agreement to be exclusive — except she didn’t know I existed, just like I didn’t have a clue about her. I would never have said yes to a date if I had known.
I don’t ask apparently single men who ask me on a date if they’re really single. I suspect nobody does.
It took me a while to find out he had been lying to me, and sadly, a little bit longer than that to break it off for good.
I never denied responsibility — after I found out
After I found out, I decided to step away. I decided I could just stop seeing him and put what had happened in the past. It had all been a mistake, one I didn’t have to make twice.
Except he decided to pursue me again, and that was when I made the even bigger mistake of leaving the moral decisions up to him. I rationalized that if he didn’t care about his girlfriend enough not to cheat, why should I care?
Why should I be the one forced to play morality police?
Of course, the point wasn’t that it was my responsibility to keep him in check, but it was my responsibility not to put myself in a position I had always despised. I didn’t want to be the other, I wanted to be the one.
When I broke it off for good, I felt guilty. I knew it had been primarily his fault since he was the one who cheated, and if he couldn’t have cheated on his girlfriend with me, he would have found someone else (and there were others), but I also knew I had my own share of the blame.
I understand being swept into something bigger than yourself
When you’re emotionally hungry, and someone tells you you’re special, you believe them. When they tell you they miss you, and they’d like to be with you right now, you believe them.
You drink that stuff because you’re so parched you don’t even have the time to think twice.
You believe one day they’ll realize you two are a better match and break off the relationship to be with you. You hope for that, despite any evidence of how unlikely that is to happen.
But one day, you wake up.
For me, it wasn’t a matter of thinking I had an ongoing affair with him, but a matter of carrying on with my life and have him seek me out from time to time — and me not having the strength to say no, to put an end to it.
Until I did.
I don’t deny being the other woman is a choice
I’m not saying the other woman is a misunderstood saint, an innocent without agency or conscience who was used by a master manipulator. Of course, the other woman shares some of the blame — as long as she’s aware of what’s going on.
You can always choose to break it off or carry on. I made the mistake to carry on for a while, but when I broke it off, I broke it off for good.
If you were never the other woman, you’re lucky no one ever lied to you
I never thought I’d be the other woman, and I definitely didn’t set out to make that happen. But the moment I went out with a man who was in a relationship, I was already the other woman, despite the fact that I had no idea.
Not being the other woman doesn’t make you especially wise or virtuous, it makes you lucky no one ever lied to you.
Are you sure no one ever did?
