I was talking to a friend at work the other day who didn’t know The Story, and so I gave her an abbreviated version (“Let me explain…no, there is too much, let me sum up.”). She was appropriately pissed off on my behalf. Then she asked, “Was he cheating on you with her or on her with you?” And I said, “I don’t know, but is one better than the other?”
I’ve thought about that question before. I don’t know the answer. I’m fairly certain that I was The Other Woman, a term I hate to apply to myself. The Other Woman, as most people see her, is a homewrecker, easy, a slut, a person with very low morals. Look at Rielle Hunter, the numerous women that Jesse James was with, the numerous women that Tiger Woods was with. What are people saying about those women?
The difference, of course, is that I had no clue that I was The Other Woman. The funny thing? SHE did. She knew about me last July. So she already knew he had cheated on her with me, and she found out (I’m assuming) that he was still cheating on her with me in December. But she still, evidently, forgave him. Of course, she’s got it made at this point – she’s got him wrapped around her little finger. Anything he EVER does wrong, she’s got the trump card.
What’s the difference between being cheated on and being the one he cheated with? Is one better than the other? Here’s one way to look at it:
- If he cheated on me, then I wasn’t enough, he wanted something else, something different.
- If he cheated with me, then I had something special, something he couldn’t resist, even at the risk of getting caught, again.
Either one sucks. One is not better than the other. Not when you’re lied to.