There is a lot I wish I could tell you. I wish I could respond to the message that you sent me, left sitting in the Facebook message requests from over a decade ago. You said you’d choose to believe your husband’s version of events. I will not pretend to understand the gravity of the harm I caused, or did not cause, but correcting this falsehood seemed like something that would implode your life.
Despite my disruption in your lives, one thing that was clear to me was your husband loved you. He spoke about you with high regard. This is what made everything simple, then. At no stage did he intend to leave you.
The transparency, combined with my naivety, was what made everything so simple, then. It was clear to me that I was irrelevant, an escape, someone who he did not need negotiate dishes or finances or childcare with. I did not matter. You did matter.
I struggle to articulate why I liked not mattering, why I liked being irrelevant. Life was chaotic, the notion of someone relying on me seemed terrifying. Your husband would never rely on me. We met when I was a teenager, him in his thirties, how could he? In many ways, he was an escape for me too.
You mentioned that you had a lot on your plate in the message I hadn’t responded to. By this point, you were pregnant. Your husband was so excited, for both of you. I can see you have had another child, when I return to the message I haven’t responded to. You all look very happy, in your polished social media version of the truth. I hope it is real, I believe it is, from how he spoke about you.
My friends are getting pregnant now. Nineteen year olds look very young. I moved to the suburbs with a man the age your husband was when I met him, he is still older than me. Like you once did, we are renovating the house. I am not pregnant. We have a dog. In many ways, it is simpler. In some, more complex.
I do not think I would want to know if my partner briefly used another woman as a fleeting, irrational escape.
That is all I was. I’m sorry.
From,
Other woman
Comments
you weren’t just an escape—you were a mirror
and now that you’re older, you finally see the imbalance for what it was
not romantic, not complicated—just predatory dressed up as connection
you didn’t implode her life, he did
you just existed in the fallout zone
owning your role doesn’t mean shielding his
and apologizing doesn’t require erasing your pain to center hers
this letter’s not for her—it’s for you, processing the version of yourself that settled for being disposable
and maybe that’s the real closure
This caliber of letter you attempting to forgive yourself. Be kind to yourself but this woman doesn’t need your reflection of the situation.
Grace is a verb, use it on yourself and extend it to others.
Be patient and kind to yourself. You deserve to be cherished.