A Woman Scorned

I hope you will all forgive me today if I take break from diving matters and write about something a little closer to heart.  For some reason, over the last few days, the same issue has been cropping up with my female friends - that sickening, gut-wrenching feeling you get when you find out your man has someone else, or isn't the person you thought he was.  It is a sad state of affairs that women truly are our own worst enemy - when a man chases after us we lose all interest, but the minute someone else is playing with our toy, we want it back.  What is that innate instinct that makes us like this?  Is it hormonal, or biological, that if another female is finding the male sexually acceptable, then automatically you can see what is attractive about them too?  And how many times have you found an amazing guy, only to discover that someone else found them first?  Are you fed up of being second choice, or of being abandoned because you were 'moving too fast', only for him to get married to the next girl he meets? 

I want to help my friends, to reassure them that all will be well, that there is a pot of gold at the end of that rainbow; but I'm not convinced, I can't make that conviction when I'm not 100% sure can I?  Nothing worse than a hypocrite.  I've been there though, god knows, more than my fair share of times, and for whatever reason, I've spent a lot of my dating life as 'the other woman'.  Don't for a minute think that I'm proud of this, because trust me when I say it shames me to my very soul, but I'm hoping that maybe amongst all the crap, there is a shining beacon of light for another woman out there who has gone through the same things that I have.

Recently I have started receiving emails from an ex I knew back in Bahrain.  He was third in a line of disastrous relationships that happened extremely close together and damn near ruined me in a very short space of time.  Each relationship was short-lived, but intense, and each one taught me something about myself, and made me promise to myself that I would never be anyone's second choice again.  These three guys, let's call them Teddy Bear, Cleveland and Paddy, broke me and re-made me a little harder and a little wiser (at least when it comes to relationships, but I am still blonde), and prepared me for something I had no idea I was looking for - COMMITMENT!! Dum dum duhhhhhhh. 

 

Teddy Bear happened fairly soon after I arrived back in Bahrain after my first time in the Maldives - he was tall, slim, big brown eyes and seemed quiet and gentle.  We never really went on dates but spent time together at his or my house, and the inevitable happened.  He told a few porky-pies at first, but it's difficult to maintain a lie about not having a family when you have a giant teddy bear with your daughter's name and date of birth tattooed on your chest.  He told me he was separated from his wife, things weren't working, divorce was imminent, blah blah, and stupidly I went along with it.  He was sweet and kind, and we were together all the time.  His best friend, Cleveland, lived on the naval base, and spent most of his time at Teddy's flat, so that became the hang out joint.  We broke up after about 2 months, I forget why, and Cleveland conspired to get the two of us back together because the group dynamic just wasn't the same.  We struggled through another 6 weeks or so, and then his time was up and he left back to the States.  I was upset, of course, but had no expectations, so the email from his wife came as a surprise a few days later.  Apparently, in a fit of honesty or stupidity, dear sweet little Teddy had spilled the beans, and what a shock, the marriage wasn't on the rocks at all, but strong as ever, and here I was, being harangued as a home-wrecker.

 

For a couple of weeks I kept myself to myself, despite Cleveland's begging me to hang out with him - we were both bored and lonely after Teddy left, but it wasn't the same.  He moved out of the base and into an apartment, and invited me round to check the place out.  Cleveland was the complete opposite of his friend - shorter, quite round, but extremely quick-minded and intelligent, and could make me laugh until my belly hurt.  I went round to the flat, drinks happened, as did other things, and before I could blink we were a couple.  We were more than a couple, we were inseparable, joined at the hip.  We never went out because we didn't need anyone else - we were lovers and best friends, we made plans, we drank, we went to the gym together, and we bbq'd on the roof.  Then things started getting a little strange - we still never went out, but when I suggested it the idea was quickly rebuffed because he didn't want other men looking at me.  If I went out without him, I would receive messages demanding to know where I was and who I was with.  If we didn't have sex for a day, I was scathingly asked who else I was sleeping with.  He became verbally abusive, calling me a whore and telling me I was fat, and the threat of physical violence was there - once he got so pissed off he punched through the windshield of his truck.  After about 4 months we broke up because he was being too paranoid, and I was heartbroken.  During the few weeks we were apart we kept in touch and he seemed to be back to his old self, so we gave it another try.  Big mistake.  Halfway through a brunch with friends, he messaged to say that he had gone onto my Facebook, on my laptop, and found messages from a guy I had slept with while we were broken up.  He called me all sorts of names under the sun, and then blurted out that he had been seeing a colleague behind my back pretty much the whole time.  I took some friends with me a couple of days later to pick up my stuff from his apartment because I was too scared to go in there alone, and apart from occasionally bumping into him in a bar and then walking in the opposite  direction, we had no further contact.

 

Last but not least - Paddy.  Paddy had actually been on the outskirts of our group since the beginning, and he was a chaser.  I knew he was married, he made no secret of it, and was one of the only guys to proudly wear his wedding ring.  I met him the first time in between Teddy and Cleveland, and he made his interest abundantly clear.  I mocked him and ignored him, never replied to his messages or his invitations to hang out.  He was beautiful though - California blonde hair and the most amazing blue eyes, big sparkly American teeth and enough tattoos to keep me wondering.  During my time with Cleveland I wasn't allowed to even look at other men as friends, so his communications died off, but the minute trouble began, Paddy somehow got wind and upped the stakes.  He was thoughtful and kind, messaging me several times a day offering a sympathetic ear with no strings attached.  I eventually agreed to go around to his apartment for a drink, and we ended up in a bar, and had a great time - he was attentive, pulling out chairs and listening, I mean really listening, to what I had to say.  And he never tried anything that night - I'm pretty certain I made the first move.  Amazing how jaegerbombs diminish morals. 

 

We fooled around for a few weeks and then broke up because I had to go home for Christmas, and he was married anyway, so what was the point?  I was home for 3 weeks, and it was hard - we were Skyping and calling every day, and the 'L' word was bandied about far too quickly.  When I came back to Bahrain he moved in with me, and we started making plans together.  He was going to divorce his wife and I would move to America; we would start our life together as soon as those papers were signed and nothing was going to stop us.  I would get up at 4am to drive him to work and he would bring the shopping home and walk the cat (don't ask).  We were deliriously happy, and pretending at being grown-ups.  He left at the end of January, with promises and tears, and the constant contact continued.  He was living with his wife, and she found some rather compelling evidence of his behaviour in the form of a video (again, don't ask), which to my brain was perfect opportunity to initiate the divorce.  I was on track, but Paddy seemed to be dragging his feet, and on Valentine's Day I gave him the ultimatum to shit or get off the pot.  He got off the pot and made the decision to stay with his wife, but sincerely hoped that if things didn't work out, I would still be waiting for him.  I told him to fuck off.  Sincerely.

 

He carried on emailing and sending love messages, telling me how he often thought of how different life would be if he'd made another choice.  What it boiled down to though, was that he was scared of rocking his safe little boat, and it was easier to go back to his wife than it was to make a mess.  He still emails, and has a baby due in January - now he wants reassurance from me that he will be a good father, but this I have no interest in giving him.  Paddy's days of getting reassurance and kind words from me are over.

 

I have been with Sharkboy now for nearly 8 months, and I am happier than I have ever been.  We spend most of our time, unfortunately, apart, but our feelings haven't waivered for a moment.  Not once have I thought that I'm not number 1 in his mind, and no one has come close to taking his place in mine.  Whether this will continue or fade away, we have no way of knowing, but for the time being we are both willing to put 100% into a relationship that has enormous potential.  Neither of us are attached to anyone else, as far as I'm aware, and we've taken the appropriate steps to make parental introductions in the next few months.  After that, let's see.  He is a large part of my life, but not my whole life (sorry baby!), and I believe that to be vital.  The minute we form an obsessive relationship with someone that our whole world revolves around, we are screwed.  What do you do when that person, inevitably, leaves and you are left with nothing?  Something that strong and powerful is bound to combust at some point, it's just a law of nature, and then you end up bouncing around the relationship-sphere with no one to rely on but your own broken self.

 

So here are my words of advice ladies - it is easy to love the wrong man just because he says the right things, but you need to be strong enough to sort the men from the boys.  Look out for those little signs and trust your gut instinct.  Don't carry on a relationship because 'he's not always a dick, sometimes he can be really sweet, you just don't see him like I do'.  BULLSHIT!!!!  Trust your friend's opinion, it's easier to judge a relationship from the outside than it is from the inside.  And my number 1 piece of advice that I wish I had followed all those years ago - never settle for being second best.  I refuse to be anyone's second choice, and so should you.  If a man isn't tripping over himself to be with you, then he's just straight-trippin'.

 

 

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