I hated her with every fibre of my being.
In the beginning, she was merely a symbol, a wrecking ball that invaded our family and smashed it apart. I didn’t ask her name for a long time. If I knew her name that would make her a real person who slept with my husband without a thought for his wife or his two young sons. In my grief was a speck of doubt that this was really happening and that my husband was walking out of our front door after sixteen years to be with her.
He came back to me twice, the guilt of leaving his family behind weighing on him, but he never stopped seeing her. I sent him to a hotel when we didn’t connect again. I told him to stay there and figure out what he really wanted so he could stop wasting everyone’s time. I prayed he would pick me, but the hotel he stayed at ended up being his new girlfriend’s apartment.
When I found out, I screamed at him for the first time in my life, my voice cracking as I called him every bad name I could come up with. I said he was a walking midlife crisis, a cliche and a sexual harassment suit because she’d been the receptionist in his office when he started sleeping with her.
Sophie Monk talks to Mamamia about cheating:
One of the times we were together after the initial breakup, I asked him questions about her. I was starving for information, needing to know every last detail about this girl who replaced me.
“What colour is her hair?” I asked him.
“Pink,” my husband replied proudly, clearly still smitten. He was always so easily impressed. There was no way I could compete with this girl who made him feel cool and young again. He bragged about going to clubs, staying out all night and then hitting Denny’s at 3:00 a.m. It was clear he felt cheated by the years he spent with me and was making up for lost time.
They moved in together permanently after the last time he left me. By this time, she had a name, Michaela. I looked up her full name on the internet and found a few pictures of her. She had tattoos and the aforementioned pink hair, but her face was plain, almost homely. Still, she made my husband feel alive again, and I couldn’t compete with that.