Being the Other Woman Is Not Worth It
I still remember my younger years when I didn’t care much about being the other woman. Or, should I say, the other girl? I first ended up in one of those messy situations at just fifteen. Then again at eighteen. I was so thirsty for affection that I didn’t care if the guy I was messing with was taken.
Now, at almost twenty-four, I want to say that being the other woman is not worth it. Hell, sometimes even being the only woman to someone is not worth it. But that’s not what I’m aiming to write about today.
There are a couple of reasons that brought me to this conclusion. First, I deserve more than just someone else’s scraps and someone’s leftover time and affection. I deserve more than to be someone’s second choice or naughty, little secret. Second, what does this situation say about the man involved in it? That maybe he is a coward who can’t break up with his girlfriend before starting to see someone else, or simply wants to have the cake and eat it too. Either way — not the type of person I want to be associated with. Third — getting out of this situation unscathed is impossible. I can either walk away with guilt of knowing something that his girlfriend doesn’t, or I can try to ‘do the right thing’ by telling her, blow up the whole relationship and/or simply make them both hate my guts. There is no right way out. Just a less dramatic one.
