Affairs are never of the heart

I was sitting at a café yesterday having breakfast when Harvey the Married walked past. He was holding the hand of a young girl I presume was one of his children. I don’t think he even saw me and if he did he hid it well.

It’s been almost a year since he bit me so hard I thought he was going to eat a chunk of my flesh and yet the sight of him still fills me with fear and loathing (see The bruises of Harvey the Married – Part III). That swagger I found so attractive is still there. The charming smile that he has used to win over so many women still breaks out across his face and his life goes on as it no doubt always has. Or so I thought.

It came to me in a roundabout way short time ago, that he and his wife have in fact separated but remain living in the same house. No doubt this is for the sake of their children, a situation about which I have already shared my thoughts in Real men leave their wives.

A quick Facebook stalk revealed that the wife has reverted to her maiden name, previously using the double barrel of maiden and married, and removed references to her loving husband from her business website. While part of me hopes that this separation is because the wife came to the realisation that her husband is a bastard and she can do better, I’m almost as certain it’s because she found out about his many, many affairs.affairs (7)

Many of my readers expressed to me in various fashions that they felt I should have been the one to expose him. And trust me, it crossed my mind more than once.

Affairs are funny things … we all hope and believe it will never happen to us but as someone who has been party to an affair (or several, see The man who shouldn’t get married), the victim of an affair and the friend of people who have also been victims, I find it a difficult issue to take a stand on.

All too often, it’s the third party or “mistress” who bears the brunt of our wrath and not the offending partner. We nickname them skanks and slags, stalk their social media, make fun of their dog’s Instagram account and wish them every kind of bad karma. And while I do these things, some small corner of my mind whispers “who are you to judge?”

I love my friends fiercely, and when something like this happens to one of them, I want to hurt the “other woman” who willingly engaged in the affair. I’ll pick up my metaphorical shovel and do all in my power to bury her. And like my friends, I will continue to believe that somewhere, deep down, the husband/partner is still a good guy. He lost his way. He didn’t mean to fall into another woman’s vagina dozens of times. He was tricked/blackmailed or my personal favourite, was “protecting” his partner.

Well that shit stops now. I decided long ago that I would no longer be party to an affair and from today, I will no longer treat the partner and the other person differently. You made that bed together. You filled it with your whore noises and your unfaithful cum together and together you will bear the wrath of scorned women everywhere. And it’s not because you do not deserve forgiveness or pity or a second chance. It’s because my friends simply deserve more. They deserve a partner who will respect them, admire them, love and support them. And it’s my job to make sure they not only see that, but they believe it.

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