Good Read: Being The ‘Other Woman’


We talk a lot of smack about the other woman, to be honest. You know, the sidepiece, the jumpoff, the one who’d never make it to wifey status. The one you call up for a quick hit and hide from your main woman. We poke fun at her, pitying her for not knowing that that’s all she’s ever going to be- the one on the side. We blame her for leading the man astray, you Jezebel, you. She gets cussed out for tampering with the sanctity of a monogamous relationship. In the words of a friend, “Why doesn’t she just go get her own man and leave mine alone?” She’s the ho, the two-timing slut, the one that’s no good enough, et cetera. I used to be her, and trust, I didn’t give a flying flip about it then.

I’m not writing this from the viewpoint of the repentant sinner, either. Shoot, being the other woman was the most fun I had in a hot minute. I’m sure there are a lot of women who get stuck as the ‘mistress’ and hate it, waiting for the day when their man is going to up and leave his main squeeze, and legitimize what they have together. I’m sure there are some women who don’t even know that they’re the other woman, and I’ve been there as well (that sucks). I’d rather be told up-front that you’ve got a girlfriend, that actually earns you points.

Yeah, you read that right. I used to prefer taken guys to single guys (never touched a married man, though). It wasn’t a conscious choice, but one that I simply gravitated towards. Now, it ain’t like I’ve done this time and time again–there were only two guys I slept with who were in long term committed relationships. I don’t count the third because his relationship wasn’t monogamous. And I’m not counting any foolery that didn’t end up in sex. Upon reflection, guys who were taken were simply easier to deal with. There was never any messy debate about which direction the relationship was headed. I never had to deal with his real life troubles, all that ish just got passed to the main girl in his life. It was about sex with no strings, plain and simple. Frankly speaking, I considered myself to be getting the better deal. Relationships were drama, with little trust involved, all kinds of deception, the uncertainty of feelings. With a taken guy, you knew where you stood. As long as both of you wanted the same thing from the ‘relationship’, it was all good. People like to assume that the girl always has an emotional investment in such matters, which is not only ridiculous, but fodder for a different post altogether. With single guys, however, they always seemed to assume that I’d want more from them (y’all ain’t all that), which puts them in defensive/a**hole mode. I don’t have energy to play those kind of games. Sometimes, all I really want from you is sex. I don’t need no dinner and flowers, no sweet talk, and I don’t need you to call in the morning. You can just step, for real. No hard feelings.


I think my attitude towards relationships began at a relatively young age. When I was fourteen, I was talking to this twenty-year old dude who had a bunch of other girls on the side. He and I would just talk whenever I came over, and we never even kissed till I was about fifteen. Now, I was a chaste young lady, I’ll have you know, so there was no freaky-deaky stuff going on, just the teenage making out slash heavy petting. I found his stories about the other chicks to be hilarious (trying to juggle three girls on Valentine’s Day makes for a funny story), he was great to chill with and he was good at making out with. After a couple of months, he started trying to get me to go out with him, at which point I was like, you must be outta your damn mind. We had a good thing going here (ignore the creepiness of a 21yr old trying to snag a 15yr old), and I was not about to jeopardize it by settling down with a player. Oh honey, no. I already knew better, and I never forgot that lesson. One of the guys I was involved with in college got offended because I told him I would never enter a relationship with him, which surprised me. You’re a cheater! Why on earth would I want to commit to you?

Now, I’m not some cold-hearted b*tch, for the record. I genuinely liked the guys I slept with, I thought of them as friendly acquaintances if not casual friends. As for their women, well, I was mostly indifferent towards them. See, my way of thinking is that it makes absolutely no sense to blame the other woman when your man starts cheating. She’s not in a relationship with you. She, technically, has no loyalties towards you (unless y’all were friends in the first place). The state of your relationship is not her problem. Go get mad at your man, he’s the one who betrayed you.

My brother once asked me where my moral compass was when I started sleeping with a guy who was in an 8yr relationship. I told him I didn’t have a moral compass then. The fact of the matter is, cheating is wrong. But back then, I didn’t care. I was getting some, single and hot, without relationship drama stressing my life and it didn’t matter to me who was getting hurt in the wake of my actions. The word for that is selfish. Hedonistic, maybe. However, the catch is that what goes around comes around. Both guys I was involved with watched their relationships end, partly thanks to me, and they had to deal with the pain of that happening. In one way or another, I received my fair share of pain and heartbreak. The universe doesn’t let you get away with sh*t like that.

Do I regret it? Meh. It definitely made my life a helluva lot more interesting. The first guy’s girlfriend decided to make me her bff for some unfathomable reason, and that played out over some months with great entertainment value. Shoot, I even gave her the details of the affair once she asked. I actually liked her better than her boyfriend. If I could go back, I’d skip sleeping with him in exchange for being friends with her. I was involved with the second guy for a few years, got my heart broken then cut him off. He ended his relationship, came back for me and we’re now engaged. But that’s a whole different story.

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