Let's Talk About The Other Woman, Shall We?

I never imagined I could hate someone so viscerally. To help me manage my rage, I would run. At night. When I could also cry without anyone seeing me.

I would fantasize catching my husband with the Other Woman (whom I knew. She had worked for my husband for years). And then I would imagine chasing her down the street. Her running. Me driving. I would imagine her terrified face in my headlights. The tires rolling over her body. Like a rabbit. Only bigger. And uglier.

But, at some point within the first six months, I realized that my fury toward her wasn't helping me at all. I felt ugly. I felt mean. And so I began to do what various ministers in the church I attended urged all of us to do. See the face of God in every human being. Every! Even her.

Ugh.

Right?

But I was willing to try. It's not unlike the loving kindness meditation, in which we begin by imagining spreading loving kindness to those close to us – our kids, our parents, our friends. And then we extend it outwards. To our boss. To our kids' teacher. To the grocery store clerk. And then outward further until, eventually, we are imagining extending loving kindness (or at the very least, the wish for a harm-free life) to our so-called enemies. To her. 

The thing is, it worked. With time and intention, I was able to see her not as a monster but as someone who hadn't learned to transform her own pain and so she transmitted it. It felt good. Like a thousand pound millstone around my neck was gone. And, for the most part, I haven't given her a whole lot of thought since. 

But it can nonetheless help to consider the character of the Other Woman when we're still in our early raw days post D-Day. If only to recognize that, in the immortal words of my husband's therapist when I asked what she had that I didn't replied "what those women have is nothing you want."

He was so right.

It's a point that Sophie Benoit made beautifully in her most recent "Here's the Thing" newsletter. The advice seeker asked Benoit for her advice on his relationship with an ex-girlfriend who had moved back in with her ex-boyfriend but with whom he was again sexually involved. He saw himself as morally un-compromised. She saw it differently:

you aren’t doing day-in-day-out relationship shit. You two are fucking clandestinely. OF COURSE that’s “winning” some imaginary battle of what’s more exciting. I know that you two have had a bunch of emotion-laden confessions of love and like, which might make it feel as if this relationship is More Than Just Fun Sex, but let me be clear: those declarations are not actual emotional hard work, they are indulgent outpourings that build drama (and thus excitement) right into the very foundation of your affair. Late night “I miss you”s are a pale imitation of the work that goes into a loving, functional relationship.

It's, perhaps, a perfect description of an affair, isn't it? As we often remind each other on this site, an affair is fantasy. It's "late night 'I miss you's'".

She goes on to address the letter-writer's admission that he doesn't feel guilt that he's sleeping with another guy's girlfriend: 

For most people, it’s a pretty big ethical boundary to cross, no matter how much you like the person you’re crossing it for. If you do decide to look inward, I would encourage you, as much as you can, to exclude her actions from informing your self-judgement. Yes, it’s her relationship with another person; yes, she chose to cheat on her partner. But what role did you play? What does that say about your respect for monogamy in the future? What if that guy were you? 

What role did you play? she asks. It's a fair question. And it's a question that often gets overlooked by those of us who recognize, validly, that it's our husbands who have betrayed us. That the OW owed us nothing, really.

But again, I recall the words of my husband's therapist: What those women have is nothing you want. Cause ain't that the truth! No, she hadn't made a commitment to me. And yes, my real issue was with my husband who betrayed his promise, both explicit and implicit, to me. But that doesn't change that the OW (or in the case of this letter, the OM) has played a role in the harming of another person. What those women have is nothing you want.

Think hard about that. I don't care how pretty the OW is, or how young, or how desirable she might seem. What she has is nothing you want.

Now sit in a church pew or on a meditation cushion and begin to shed yourself of any connection to her beyond wishing her well a long, long distance from you. Hating her is nonetheless a connection. And you are far too amazing a person to be connected to the likes of her.