I Loved Him More Than His Wife But He Still Left Me

I met him sixteen years ago, back in high school. We phone-dated for a while, but life pulled us apart. All the times we were dating, we never met—it was just calls and texts. Four years later, we reconnected and met in person for the first time. That’s when the real story began.

Somewhere along the line, I went snooping and found out he was dating someone he claimed was his sister. I didn’t take offence at that. I fought for us. I wanted to prove I was worth choosing. But in the end, he chose her. I was shattered. He was my first love, and surviving that heartbreak felt like surviving a storm with no shelter.

When I heard he married her, I thought that was the end of our chapter. I wished them well and moved on. But he resurfaced sometime after. I tried to avoid him: obviously, I didn’t want anything to do with a married man. I had a principle: never date a married man. But he wouldn’t let go. He was everywhere, all the time. And the closer he got, the more I realized I had never truly gotten over him. So I put my rule aside and started dating him again.

We reconciled. We’ve been together for five years now.

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In our third year, I fell pregnant. I told him. The next day, he vanished from the surface of the earth. My calls went unanswered for three weeks. I was worried, anxious, and abandoned. I ended the pregnancy, believing he didn’t want the child. When he finally resurfaced, he claimed he’d been sick and hospitalized. I was hurt, but I listened. I gave him another chance.

I told him I needed clarity by my 30th birthday. I needed to know if he was serious or just playing games with me. I wasn’t getting any younger. My birthday came and went; nothing changed. Months passed, and still, he said nothing about where we stood as a couple.

So I started talking to someone else. I told him, hoping it would force him to choose.  From the way he acted, I could tell he was hurt, and guilt washed over me. I loved him too much to let go or cause him pain because you don’t hurt the ones you truly love. So I gave him another chance. He asked for time until the end of the year. I agreed. I stopped talking to the other man.

But the year ended with another pregnancy. I was 31. He told me to keep it, but when I asked what would happen next, he had no answer. Days later, taking it out became the only option again. I wanted to keep it: I was growing older, but the situation wasn’t safe. I needed him to hold my hand through it. But he fell sick again. Vanished. I went through it alone.

When he started having issues in his marriage, I felt responsible. I kept asking if I was the cause, and he always said no. Still, I carried the guilt: the two abortions, the silence, the shame of being the other woman. I was sure that whenever his wife prayed, she mentioned me by name, asking God to take me out of the picture. I told him I wanted to move on, but he begged for more time, saying we needed to talk things through.

I told him I needed assurance. I was willing to wait, but not in vain. He said he couldn’t promise anything. He said he didn’t want to fail me.

So I started talking to that man again. We met. Had a good time together. But I couldn’t move past him. I didn’t want to be with someone else while still nursing a broken heart. So I went back to being the mistress.

He was angry and hurt. But we reconciled. Then, we had a misunderstanding. He went silent. I did the same. Three weeks later, he came running back. We spoke. Had a good conversation. But days later, he gave me the cold shoulder again.

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I asked what was wrong. He said it was because of the man I had entertained. He said I chose someone else over him. How? I let someone go because of this endless love I have for him. How else do we choose a man?

Maybe he just wants to move on to another mistress and feels guilty, with no words to say it. But that’s fine.

It’s been two months already. I’m hurting. Nursing the pain of being the mistress for over five years. Every day is hard. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I can’t think. Sometimes, I feel worthless. Because why do I still love a man who is married? Who keeps running away from me?

One thing I’m sure of is, if I ever manage to heal, I’m staying single forever.

—Michelle

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