The Call From The ‘Other Woman’

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I wasn’t trying to break up a happy home.

Yes, I’m quoting pretty much every person who finds themselves in the position of the ‘other woman’ and let’s be clear, I’m using ‘the other woman’ in the most genderless way possible. I watch a lotta buzzfeed, and I don’t think you need to be assigned the female gender to be ‘the other woman’ it’s more a historical term perpetuated by the patriarchy. Some of y’all gender fluid bitches can be the ‘other-woman’ too, don’t get it twisted.

You’re ‘the other woman’ the minute you get a phone call after two in the morning from someone calling from what sounds to be a payphone even though I thought we, as a society, had long gotten rid of them.

The voice on the other end is someone you don’t recognize and isn’t trying to call you about student loan payments. They also sound like they’ve been crying about something they can’t change – the loss of a family pet, the turn of a seemably stable economy

“who is this?” the voice on the other end demands, as if you might have called them at some outrageous time of the night/morning.

Without needing time to get myself together, I have a general idea what’s going on.

“Can I ask who this is?” I enquire just making sure it isn’t Sallie Mae being slick.

“You know who this is.” The voice on the other end responds, although I absolutely did not, which is why I asked.

I would hate for the person on the other end to think I’m mocking them in their moment of sincere vulnerability, but I chuckle, to myself mostly.

Married folks love to think they’re spouse is the only married person you’re dealing with. I want to comfort the person on the other end and inform them that plenty of men cheat, and I happen to deal with a credible number of men who do and to save us both time, it would be to her benefit to start using names and perhaps identifiers, especially if she’s married to a Matthew. I’m dealing several Matthews.

“I just want you to know Matthew has a family and is a man of the church!” The voice on the other end asserts as if Matthew didn’t put all of that information in his dating profile when I found him online in the first place.

Matthew also has two kids, one is college aged and goes to school in Syracuse. White folks who cheat love to send their kids to schools in Syracuse. The younger of Matthew’s kids is in high school, a brunette with curly ringlets, she seems to know everything that’s going on and seemably, doesn’t care much, at least compared to the enraged woman calling my phone.

“Matthew and I are still in love, we are working on this marriage, and I’d appreciate if you stopped seeing him” she continues. There’s a slight chatter in her teeth between her words. I’m sure it’s cold at whatever payphone in front of whatever gas station she’s putting this call in from. Perhaps the chill in the air and the heat of her anger is resulting in evident and obvious mistakes everywhere.

Yes. Matthew used an online dating profile to hookup with black guys on the other side of town, sure. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you. I’m sure he loves you. If the age of your eldest child is indicative of your years together, there is nothing I’m giving Matthew for 15 minutes at a time that compares to the twenty years you’ve shared together. Apples and Oranges. Albeit, familiar apples versus new and exciting oranges.

Let’s move on to the next issue in this unique conundrum. You would appreciate if I stopped seeing Matthew denotes the idea that perhap….and hear me the fuck out…Matthew is seeing me.

If your Matthew is the Matthew I think it is, he is at least fifty, has more than enough psychological baggage he needs to bring up at Confession, and he gets in his vehicle to come to a part of town that is institutionally set up away from the side you reside in. This Matthew covers the cost of my meals and knows my situation as a student – your enemy here is not me ma’am. It’s capitalism.

And you need to be on the front lines of economic reform. Big business wiping out the strength of the middle class should greatly concern you. You don’t worry about what I’m doing. You need to make sure that workers receive a livable wage.

Because when we don’t.

We’re coming for some Matthew’s

We might get us a Todd,

We might even make time for Chad.
But you ain’t called for all that. You got feelings and shit, and they’re hurt.
And I got work in a few hours, and I’d like a few more hours of sleep before clocking in.

So I wish you luck on your marriage. I know it took a lot of courage to call. Do I think this is the last call you’ll have to make during the course of your marriage? I do not.

And on the behalf of every ‘other woman’ everywhere…could I suggest calling during daylight hours?

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