Thursday, 15 August 2013

A Letter to the Boyf's Ex Wife

My boyf had an affair with me.  His wife found out and chucked him out.  Ridiculous boyf thought it would be a good idea to tell said ex wife my name, the town I lived in and where I worked.  And of course, since she had looked at his phone, she also had my mobile number.

So for many weeks I was contacted by his ex ('H') in a variety of ways.  Texts, of course.  Linked in messages.  Comments on my website.  Facebook.  And then emails and calls to my colleagues at work.

It got to the point where I was worried she would turn up with a bucket of acid.

I don't blame her, of course.  I would have done the same.  Actually, worse.  I probably WOULD have turn up with a bucket of acid.  Or shit, probably.  Less likely to go to jail that way, I should think.

As my regular readers (of which I know I have at least one - thank you mother) know, H texted me again recently, as it was a year since Boyf left.  Because I am a nasty person, and because I hope she never finds out, I reproduced it in this blog.  The language used was much calmer but essentially it was very sad; she said she would always consider Boyf to be her husband - the implication of which being that she will never move on and find another loving relationship.

I have never responded to her.  I would love to, but I know that it would only scratch off the slowly healing scab and let the blood flow again.  So I thought I'd write my response here.  It's a sort of therapy for me.  I hope you don't mind.  Just skip over the boring bits.

Dear H,

Thanks for your recent message and indeed, for all the ones that went before.  I don't blame you for contacting me and for saying the things you did (although, I have to admit, contacting my work was a low point for me and I did seek legal advice at that point).  I know this sounds highly patronising coming from me, your arch enemy, but I get it.  I completely get that you feel I have ruined your life and your family and have brought everything crashing down around you.  And I am truly sorry.

Why am I writing to you?  I suppose to apologise in part.  But also, to use your phrase, 'woman to woman', to encourage you to stop blaming me, stop using me as a focal point for bitterness and an excuse not to rebuild your life.  I know!  Of course you'll never listen to me!  It's ridiculous.  And that's why you'll never see this letter.

Let me tell you something.  From your texts, you infer that I seduced 'C' with my younger woman wily ways.  That I was somehow out on the prowl, looking for sex and on a mission to create family wreckage wherever I went.  That he was, in fact, happily married, and I persuaded him with the use of my extremely small boobage and damp crannies to leave you and his children and live with his mother in some shitty road in South London.  Evil, aren't I?

It's not true.  We met at some gig where the person I was with was far too busy shmoozing other people, so I was introduced to C, who was also alone.  I asked him a shedload of questions; partly because that's what I do, partly because I was nervous.  I didn't fancy him.  He was nervous too - he did that fidgety tourettes thing with his leg and wouldn't look me in the eye for about half an hour.  We spoke at first about his job and he talked about your kids.  Lots of people came up to him to say hello and he was obviously really well-liked.  

After another beer, he told me - this will be hard for you - that he didn't love his wife.  That he was planning to leave you and live in Paris.  He was going to leave everything behind and live the life of an artist. Bare, naked.

He danced with me in a most peculiar way and then said he had to go.  I kissed him on the cheek and asked him to send me a postcard from Paris via our mutual friend.  

And that was it.  I didn't expect to see him again.  I didn't know his second name, where he lived...anything, really.

But then he contacted me through Linked In.  I was really surprised - I hadn't actually given him my full name, had I? - but he had tracked me down, somehow.  And yes, after several emails, I agreed to meet him.

So this is my point H - he did the groundwork.  He doesn't love you.  If it hadn't been me, it would have been someone else.  Did you know he'd had an affair before?  No, I didn't think so.  He stayed with you to keep the family together, and because of this, you have all become increasingly unhappy.  You say you were on the brink of a new life.  I'm sorry, but you are wrong.  You were on the brink of Armageddon, however you look at it.  He.  Didn't.  Love.  You.

Why the hell am I blasting the last remnants of happiness that you are hanging on to?  Am I really that much of a bastard?

Possibly.  But if I were you, I would want a stab at rebuilding a life with someone who did love me.  And the first stage of that is to accept that the person you have hung your hat on for all these years has been a complete shit to you.  He has treated you badly.  He has been unfaithful.  You have supported him through his depression and he has thrown it back in your face.  Please.  Recognise this and find someone who does love you.  Stop saying "he will always be my husband" and realise that he won't - and he hasn't been for many years.  

Think about it.  And move on with your life.  

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