Relationships are like being in a dream; they are colourful, beautiful and sometimes very short. It hurts to wake up to a harsh reality without your significant other. The fact that that it couldn’t work out and that you can no longer be with him is painful.
However it hurts the most when you get to know that the time you two spent together was nothing more than an illusion; an illusion which was shared by another woman. This girl here was cheated by her boyfriend. Distraught with the loss, she has written a letter to the girl with whom her boyfriend cheated on. (Courtesy: iDiva)
“Hi X,
Yesterday was the eleventh night in a row that my boyfriend wept on the phone. I broke down too. Somewhere along the conversation, tired of his apologies and all the miserable crying, I dozed off.
A week and four days back, my boyfriend confessed to cheating on me. You’d know that because you were with him when he did that. You were at the end of every lie that he told me – the late nights in office were by your side, his boys’ night out was in your arms, and the untimely visits to the gym were all an excuse to see you. He tells me that you are aware of my existence. And, that you sat and saw through all the long messages that he typed out to me, after he had sex with you.
Yes, he had sex with you. I am not going to embellish it and call it making love. Maybe that’s how I’d like to deal with it – that I am the woman he makes love to and he went to you, the other woman as I am conditioned to call you, out of pure lust, out of this inherent human need to experiment and explore, to break out of the rut of permanency.
In the last eleven days, I have called you many names. One of them may or may not have been “whore”. Who am I kidding? I have called you that, that and many other synonyms of the same. The anger I felt towards you, initially, amounted to that. I cursed and cursed…
Until, I realised that I don’t know you. I have never even seen you. In my mind, you are the owner of this perfectly sculpted body with a mind as beautiful as your face. I have imagined you to be someone who draws a man in with her enunciations, drinks whiskey, and talks with conviction – everything that I couldn’t be for the man that we both love.
But what if, you are not all those things? What if you too, like me, are a sum of all you insecurities and fears? What if you, like me, fell in love with a man in your most vulnerable state? What if he narrated the same stories to you that are restored in the abyss of my heart? And, what if you too were a woman, just like me, hoping for love and happiness to possibly change your life?
It’s not my place to call you names. We didn’t have any pacts of travelling the world together, or spending the New Years somewhere on a secluded beach. I don’t deserve any answers from you because it wasn’t you I was in a relationship with. It’s the man who chose to sleep with you that happens to be the love of my life. It’s his shame, not yours.
We’ve both felt loved and been cheated on by the same man. This hasn’t been a first for me. I hope with all my might that it’s a first for you, though. Because if it isn’t, then we are not only united by the men in our lives but also by the betrayal that we’ve been served by them. We are united by our displaced sense of selves. And, that is one realisation that pierces me.
My boyfriend tells me that he will never see your face. If it makes you feel any better, you are not the only one he has abandoned. In this weird play of abandonment, you and I have often switched places. We’ve been, both, discarded by an indecisive man who differentiated us by the days in a week – Weekends for you, and weekdays for me.
Know this that we’re both better than this. I have often wondered in the last 11 days what I would say to you if we ever met – if I will have the courage to let you know that you don’t have an enemy in me. I have a feeling that words will fail me -much like the man who failed us both. All I hope is that when this happens, we’re both in a happier place – a place that is deserving of our invincible light.
Love (or something like it),
The other woman
P.S. – I am dumping him, tonight.”