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| /Courtesy |
I met my husband’s girlfriend… and ended up sympathizing with her.
The signs were everywhere to see. She was the first one to wish my husband on his birthdays, he would take out her six-year-old for many outings, she would call often at odd hours and my husband would sneak out of the room on some pretext.
And well, I even once happened to spot the two of them together at a café when my husband was supposed to be in office.
‘It was a chance meeting,’ he retorted when questioned. And this wasn’t the first time I confronted him. I always felt a bit odd about this unusual friendship.
She was a widow and my husband’s friend from college. Both of them had remained in touch as college buddies for years but things really got thick when she shifted to our city to be with her parents after her husband’s sudden demise in an accident.
My husband wanted to be supportive towards her and I totally understood it. He would spend long hours with her give her pep talk; he would even attend her son’s parents meetings as a guardian. I thought of it as a phase and, in fact, admired my husband at his selflessness in helping an old friend overcome her grief.
But this was three years ago. With time the meetings became more frequent, the hours longer and the bond stronger. I began feeling discomforted and I told my husband only to be rebuked at my small thought.
I have had at least half a dozen rounds of strong arguments; I have left the house in a huff for two months and have even threatened divorce. But every time my husband maintained that they are friends and I should be the one who should be ashamed at bringing any other context to their relationship.
Over the years I had gotten tired, even in fact, as sad as it sounds, used to the idea that my husband would leave everything at the drop of the hat if he gets one call from his ‘friend.’ He was otherwise attentive to my needs, we had a normal sex life and life was good until of course, she needed him and it was time for me to make space for my husband’s top priority.
And well, I even once happened to spot the two of them together at a café when my husband was supposed to be in office.
‘It was a chance meeting,’ he retorted when questioned. And this wasn’t the first time I confronted him. I always felt a bit odd about this unusual friendship.
She was a widow and my husband’s friend from college. Both of them had remained in touch as college buddies for years but things really got thick when she shifted to our city to be with her parents after her husband’s sudden demise in an accident.
My husband wanted to be supportive towards her and I totally understood it. He would spend long hours with her give her pep talk; he would even attend her son’s parents meetings as a guardian. I thought of it as a phase and, in fact, admired my husband at his selflessness in helping an old friend overcome her grief.
But this was three years ago. With time the meetings became more frequent, the hours longer and the bond stronger. I began feeling discomforted and I told my husband only to be rebuked at my small thought.
I have had at least half a dozen rounds of strong arguments; I have left the house in a huff for two months and have even threatened divorce. But every time my husband maintained that they are friends and I should be the one who should be ashamed at bringing any other context to their relationship.
Over the years I had gotten tired, even in fact, as sad as it sounds, used to the idea that my husband would leave everything at the drop of the hat if he gets one call from his ‘friend.’ He was otherwise attentive to my needs, we had a normal sex life and life was good until of course, she needed him and it was time for me to make space for my husband’s top priority.
However, secretly I was hurting inside playing this second fiddle to my husband. I felt queasy about their bond where they wanted to be friends with each other but took care never to involve me in their meetings.
His son was quite fond of my husband but she as much as didn’t even know what grade my daughter studied in. She would never ever attend any of our family functions even though I invited her.
Basically, she kept any interaction with me to the bare minimum. Since I only had this uncomfortable feeling about their ‘friendship,’ with no concrete evidence, family and friends often dismissed my fears.
Until one day I decided to take matters into my control. I decided to hear it from the horse’s mouth and gathered the courage to invite her for a coffee date. I requested her to keep our meeting a secret. She laughed and complied.
The day I was supposed to meet her, I was nervous, anxious and upset. How would I broach the topic? What would she think of me? How hollow my marriage would seem? And funnily enough, what would I wear to meet her to look better than her.
But as soon as she sauntered into the café where I sat befuddled with all these thoughts, she allayed all my fears. She greeted me with a familiar smile and said – ‘I saw it coming for a long time. I understand your discomfort in our relationship and I am your culprit.’
It was as if the burden was suddenly taken away from my shoulders. Here was a woman I barely knew, who was ready to own up, even lay bare with honesty (if such a thing is possible) her illicit liaison with my husband.
All these years, while I was running in circles to get an answer from my husband she did not beat around the bush and admitted that she and my husband started dating two years ago.
She said that my husband always maintained that he had nothing in common with me. She confessed that during moments of her weakness she had given in and romance blossomed between her and my husband.
She told me that in my husband her son has found a father figure once more. I sat there like a statue while she answered without being questioned. She admitted that had she known that there wasn’t anything particularly wrong with our marriage she may not have carried on with my husband.
In fact on knowing that we had a completely normal marriage until she came in his life, tears trickled down her cheeks. Here I was sitting with my husband’s girlfriend and instead of grilling her, I was listening to her patiently. It was she who broke down not me. It was the oddest scenario I had ever found myself in.
For that moment we were two women sitting together and mourning the fact that both of us were wronged by one man. I was cheated upon and she was made to believe that our marriage was just a piece of paper and we had not had a physical or emotional intimacy for years. A blatant lie, I told her and blurted how he passionately made love to me just last week.
‘Men, I tell you, she guffawed.’ I knew at that moment she was hurting more than me. Because somewhere down the line while I had accepted the situation, she was coming to terms with the fact that she was, in fact, a home breaker.
She offered to call the relationship quits though she admitted it would hurt her a lot. I stayed quiet but wasn’t sure even if she were to break the bond would things be any better in my marriage. The trust, love, honesty had all dissipated into thin air. The more she talked the more I was moved by the honesty of this girl who is technically my husband’s mistress.
I did not advise her on what to do but that day I made a resolve. Whether or not she leaves my husband, I am going to file for a divorce. Maybe they will continue, maybe they won’t but I have to move on. My husband couldn’t honor the sanctity and he didn’t even have the courage to own up to his love. I am not stretching my marriage anymore.
Sometimes in life, there are no words to describe a meeting or a bond with a person. That afternoon I experienced something like that. I would always respect her for her honesty but I would also hate her even though I know it was my husband’s fault.
I am distancing myself from both of them so that I can think clearly on my path ahead. But somewhere I would always carry this image of a crying widow who found love once more in life only to perhaps let it go again.
I don’t know if you would have also felt the same in my situation but secretly I will also grieve for my husband’s girlfriend if she were to nurse a broken heart once more.