I Was the Other Woman...

It started in a truly innocent fashion. I got a friend request on Facebook from this really cute guy we'll call Dean for the sake of legalities. His (real) full name seemed kind of familiar, but it turns out he just has the same name of a guy I went to high school with. I noticed my best friend was a mutual friend in common, so I asked how she knew him.

"He's my cousin! My Uncle Mickey's son. Why?"

"He friend requested me on Facebook. He's cute."

"He's married," one message read, then an instantaneous second appeared. "But no one in our family likes his wife. She's really controlling. He's not allowed to have pictures of her or their son on his profile."

"What? That's insane," I replied, having now lost interest.

He was married. Oh, well.

But then, he started liking all my posts. My pictures. Status updates. Even memes I shared. He liked every single one. I assumed we just had a lot in common, but with each "Dean liked your photo" notification, my interest in him piqued more and more.

Then I came out. I let everyone in my life know I was bisexual via Facebook update. And guess who messaged me congratulating me on being, "So brave"? That's right. Dean.

"Do you have Snapchat?" I asked.

"Duh. I'll add you."

Almost instantly the notification popped up. Dean has added you by username.

For a few days it was truly so innocent. He would send me pictures of him and his son at the park, pictures of him drinking with his buddies, pictures of him playing guitar, but then he began to compliment me more and more every time I'd send a picture back to him. He began calling me bae, queen, and beautiful, and while I was completely flattered, I had to address the elephant in the room.

"You know I'm best friends with Brianna* right?"

"Yes."

"So she told me you're married."

"I am."

"Then why do you spend so much time talking to me?"

"My wife and I aren't on the same page anymore. We haven't been for a long time. We got pregnant too soon. We stopped sleeping together. One time she went seven months without having sex with me. Then I found out she cheated with a coworker. I confronted both of them, but neither of them cared and neither did I anymore."

"So why are you still with her?"

"My son deserves both his parents."

"I guess that's honorable, but he can still be happy with you guys living separately. You deserve to be happy."

The conversation must've gotten too deep for him then because all he replied was something along the lines of, "You're probably right, oh well. Here's a picture of my kid watching Moana."

That was that, until the next night. It was Friday and I was a little tipsy. We were messaging back and forth again about his marital situation. I was getting sleepy, so I ended the conversation with a rather risky goodnight message.

"I'm going to sleep now. Goodnight. But just for the record, I'd totally suck your dick if I was your wife."

And I guess that's when he decided there was no going back. He committed to getting me in bed.

A few weeks later, an opportunity presented itself. It was Christmas time, so his wife was staying at her friend's house for a Christmas party. She wouldn't be home. He invited me over.

I called Brianna freaking out. What do I wear? How do I do my hair? Should I even be doing this? I knew if my moral compass was wrong, Brianna would either tell me so, or tell me so and encourage me to do it anyway. Instead, she told me it wasn't wrong--because Dean's wife is a bitch, and she cheated first, so doesn't she kind of deserve it? AND she encouraged me to go visit.

So I did it. I stopped by. It was awkward. We sat awkwardly on the couch "watching" a football game on ESPN. I drank about 4 glasses of water to try to focus on something other than my nerves. We talked about nothing that mattered, and then we played a board game at the dinner table. No moves were made. No kind of raging sexual tension. Just awkward middle-school-esque hang out session. And then... ding ding. The front door motion sensor rings, and in walks no one other than his wife.

"Hey honey," he said, so nonchalantly. "This is Halo. Brianna's best friend."

"Brianna...? Oh, your cousin," she said, unbothered. "Hey, how are you?"

"Hey," I muttered awkwardly.

She looked away from me, her eyes darting back to Dean.

"Why didn't you take the trash out?" she asked, motioning towards the garbage can.

"I did this afternoon, but it got filled back up again while I was cooking dinner."

"Well take it out next time, Dean," she nagged.

"I will, hon."

"How long as Miles* been asleep?"

"About 2 hours," he answered.

She fanned herself with her shirt.

"It's really hot in here," she complained, stepping out of the kitchen to check the thermostat. "Oh my god, it's 74 degrees in here."

"Miles was cold earlier," Dean replied.

"Well you know he's going to start sweating, Dean. No wonder he wakes up drenched. You keep it too hot."

"Just turn it down now then. He'll be fine."

"Okay. I'm going to bed. Goodnight," she said, walking to towards the stairs. "Good meeting you, Haley."

"You too," I whispered, not correcting her when she called me the wrong name.

Once we heard the door shut I finally let out the breath I'd been holding in since she'd gotten home.

"I knew she was coming home," I said, shaking, placing my face in my hands.

"It's fine. She doesn't care."

"You're lying. I need to go."

"Well, it'd look kind of sketchy if you just leave now that she's home."

"It looks kind of sketchy anyway that you have a girl in your home when she's not home," I replied. "But I really do need to go."

When I got home, I texted Brianna.

"OMG!! SHE CAME HOME?? WHAT DID SHE SAY? WHAT DID SHE DO?"

"Literally nothing," I responded. "It really was like she didn't give a fuck at all."

"Because she doesn't."

The following week, things really started to heat up. Our messages quickly turned from texts to sexts, and pictures were getting more and more risque by the minute. He even told me he had to report for Drill that weekend, but wanted to see me after hours. I agreed, knowing I really shouldn't. At that point, it just seemed too far gone. I had to do it now. No backing out. Mama might have raised a morally inept homewrecker, but she didn't raise no bitch.

That Friday night, he arrived at the house and I asked if we could--in true Halo fashion--watch a Harry Potter movie. The movie started and we sat awkwardly on the couch. But, I was in dire need of a blunt, so I invited him to my room and I smoked a blunt while he drank a few Michelobs.

When I was finally high enough to let my guard down, it happened. He kissed me.

It. Was. Awful. Terrible. Literally fucking horrible. He had no lips. He didn't pucker what he did have (which wasn't much) and it truly felt like I was making out with my Zac Efron poster circa 2006 again. I was kissing a wall. But for some reason, I didn't stop it. Our shirts and pants came off, and soon I was on top of him in just my underwear trying my best to make out with this stiff ass piece of plywood otherwise known as his face.

"We should stop," I said, pulling myself off of him and sitting back on the bed.

"Why?"

"Because you're married!"

"She doesn't give a fuck about me, and I don't give a fuck about her. Fuck it. But if you don't want to, we don't have to."

"I want to, but I don't want to. I'm going to feel like a horrible person. But I don't want you to hate me if we don't fuck."

"I'm not going to hate you. I mean it would suck if I came here and we don't, but you're cool. We can just hang out."

So we just hung out, for about 20 minutes, until we were kissing again. Though, this time we didn't stop. I got out a condom, and he asked me if I was sure I wanted to do it. I told him yes, I was sure--BECAUSE EVEN IF BEING A SIDE CHICK ISN'T SEXY, CONSENT IS!--and we did it. We did the thing. The sex. We did the sex.

It was okay. It wasn't life-changing. It was better than the kissing, for sure, but I didn't have an orgasm. The bad part was that I also didn't feel like a terrible person afterward. I just kind of felt like, "Okay, this is a thing that happened."

It happened a few more times afterwards, but, eventually, my conscience caught up to me and I stopped. We still have conversations sometimes, but there truly was no more meaning to it than we both needed a little sexy time. I'm glad I didn't catch feelings, but I'm more glad I ended it.

Dean tells me that he and his wife are now in an open relationship and that if things aren't better in a year then they'll separate and probably divorce. I say that probably should've happened before she even cheated on him, but I'm not married, so what do I know about marriage? Nothing, I suppose.

I do know one thing, though... the girls I've slept with aren't much better in bed than Dean was, but that's a disastrous story for another time.

-Halo