How It’s Like To Love (And Be Loved) By Someone Else’s Man

When I was younger, I hated the idea of cheating. I hated everyone who once lied to their partners.

I remember watching my mom cry every night when she thought me and my siblings were asleep. She tried being strong for us when my father was away with his new girl. I hated my dad. I hated him and his slut. I hated how I can’t change anything for my mom.

She then took him back and after three more mistresses, they are now living peacefully together again. I have no idea how my mom was able to forgive my dad for doing that. For me, it’s a mistake that can never be undone.

I grew older and I had my first boyfriend when I was 22. Not that I’m a late bloomer, or I guess somehow you could say I am. But more than that, the real reason why I never dated when I was younger is because all the guys who liked me were either married or have a girlfriend. And I had no intention of ruining any relationships so I ran and ran and ran. Until I finally stumbled upon this guy whom I call now my “Prince”.

I could never stop talking about this guy. He came in like a perfect storm, I remember crying when I finally realized I was falling in love for the very first time. I had no idea what I was feeling, all I know is that I was scared. Of what, I don’t know. As much as I would like to try to put into words how great the relationship was, I don’t think no words can suffice. I just know that there were times when me and him would say nothing but “I love you” for hours. Nothing else needed to be said. He wanted me to just fight for him, he wanted me to trust him and I wanted the same from him. However, sadly, the problems were inevitable.

From the love story that was perfectly written, we hit the rough road. His jealousy caused us to grow apart until I had no idea who he ran to for comfort. And then one day, he just left me hanging. It was over. Done.

And they were right when they said that once you lost someone, it is never the same person that comes back. He had changed. A lot. And I did, too. I changed so much, I couldn’t trust him anymore. Especially when I found out the real reason why he left me – a new girl.

Along the road that I once called perfect, he got along with one of our mutual friends and they hit the high road, shared laughter and tears and decided to fall in love with each other.

I hated him. I hated her. I hated love. I hated myself for not being enough. I hated everyone and everything. I hated how people can never stop looking around even when they’re already taken. I hated how love can bring people to extreme ups and downs in a second. I hated seeing another day. Misery became my best friend for the next three months where I started questioning everything about my relationship with him. Suddenly I didn’t know which ‘I love yous’ were true. I questioned all the times when we weren’t together that he said he  was supposed to be working or studying. My life started falling down into tiny little pieces and I couldn’t do anything but watch myself fall into the deep abyss.

Surprisingly, however, the moment he walked back into my life, I took him back without a second thought. I took him back like nothing was ever done wrong against me. I suddenly understood my mom– love does that. Love changes people’s beliefs and principles. Love makes people forgive and forget. Love makes people stupid or smarter, depending on how you look at it.

The rest, as they say, is history. We broke up, got back together, broke up and got back together over and over. Until we both finally decided to take different paths.

I then swore to myself that I would never do it again, once a partner cheats on me I should never take him back. Because my ex, my father and my other guy friends proved to me how once a cheater always a cheater.

Until I met this one guy. He’s a guy from another country who visited mine. He is smart, attractive, older than me, and in a long and stable relationship for two years. We got along really well and I adored him. We talked about everything day and night, stay up together ’til almost morning and we escaped the world together.

We skipped classes and hang out secretly in all places we would never get caught. And I guess, the inevitable happened. One day, we were hanging out in my dorm, having the usual conversation together. I don’t know how things happened but next thing I know, he was on top of me kissing my mouth. I laughed at him and told him I couldn’t do it and he said it was okay. Everyone could guess how it will end, few minutes later, we were having sex. My first sexual experience. He took my first kiss, he took my virginity. And did I regret it? No. We did it over and over. We had sex almost every time we meet. We did it in hotels, classroom, shower, and almost everywhere. But all along, I know he has a girlfriend.

He came home to his own country. We agreed to keep in touch and to keep our relationship, so yes, there goes my norms and my principles. I’m the other girl. I’m officially the mistress.

I don’t know how I ended up being where I am right now. I don’t know how from a second of hating the idea of cheating, I am now on the other side of the picture. I somehow wish he would leave her but I feel bad for her that I’m sharing her man. I feel bad that those lips I have kissed and nibbled, same lips kisses hers, same lips tells her the three words I need to hear from him too. I feel bad that I wish their relationship would fall apart hoping that mine will blossom. But it kills me knowing that the man who owns me is owned by someone else. I couldn’t bring him to my parents nor to my friends. I couldn’t post on social media our pictures together, because his social media account is filled with their pictures together.

I guess people will never really understand someone else’s point of view until they’re there to see it, to feel it, to experience it. Everyone has their reasons for their actions. Everyone has their own way to justify their decisions that seem wicked. For me, there is no enough justification for sharing and attempting to steal someone else’s man other than he owned me and I did not stop him. Maybe because I never let other men touch me the way he did. I never let other men look at me and hold me the way I allowed him to.

What will happen next, I don’t know. I am not proud of what I have become but I still want to share my words to girls who are probably in the same position as where I am right now. Life unfolds in the most mysterious ways. Life unfolds in ways we least expect them to. But whatever happens, even if it may seem like a dead end, at least I know now that life indeed unfolds. Little by little.