I’m writing this because the anger needs somewhere to go besides my own body. You were part of the wreckage of my marriage, not the whole cause, but absolutely a willing participant that played a significant role. He made his choices, but you made yours too, and the fallout landed squarely on me.
What still amazes me is how quickly you stepped into something with a man you knew was married. You talk about supporting women, about empowerment, about being some kind of advocate, yet you had no problem walking straight into another woman’s life and acting like her existence was irrelevant. You crossed lines that weren’t yours to cross, and you did it with a level of entitlement that would almost be impressive if it weren’t so pathetic.
And then there were the expectations. The gifts, the outings, the hotel stays. The need to feel more important and more wanted than the marriage you were actively helping him destroy. You wanted the attention, the fantasy, the illusion of being chosen, even though deep down you had to know he wasn’t choosing you. You acted like you were owed something, as if the destruction of someone else’s marriage was just collateral damage.
But the part that still hits the hardest is that you involved your child. You brought a married man you were secretly sleeping with into your child’s world. You created memories, accepted gifts, and pretended it was normal. That wasn’t just reckless, it was heartbreaking to learn about. It crossed into something deeper, was so incredibly irresponsible and more troubling than anything else you did.
You also inserted yourself into my life in ways that were invasive and cruel. Asking him about me, asking about his love for me, asking how things were going in our marriage and asking whether he’d be happier leaving his marriage. You weren’t just participating, you were digging, prying, trying to wedge yourself into a place that wasn’t yours. They weren’t harmless questions they were deliberate.
And when everything finally came out, you disappeared. Barely any attempt to face the reality of what you helped create. Zero accountability, zero explanation. You were bold enough to participate in the destruction, but not brave enough to stand in the aftermath. This spoke volumes about your character.
And here’s the truth you probably still don’t want to face: You weren’t special. You weren’t the exception. You were one of several. If you thought he was going to choose you, he wasn’t. The things he said about you made that very clear.
I don’t need anything from you. Not closure, not an apology, not understanding. What I need, what I’m giving myself right now, is the release of finally saying all of this without holding back. I don’t wish the pain I’ve felt on anyone. But I do hope you eventually confront the choices you made and the harm they caused, there is something in you that allowed you to participate in something so incredibly destructive, and I hope you eventually heal whatever that is. Not for me, but for the version of you that deserves better than the chaos you helped create, and more importantly for your child that deserves better.