The Other Woman | Chapter One

The sunlight beams through the curtains painting the white walls a shade of sunshine yellow. The rays passing though the curtain create a kaleidoscope of light, making my room resemble a lit lantern. Fireflies living on the ephemeral light I think to myself as I lie happily in my bed imbibing every joule of energy and happiness that I can find.

This day gives me a new reason to reflect and turn my wrongs into right.

There. There, I say to myself. This constant bickering need to go for the poetic overkill leads to a buzzkill.

The alarm clock reminds me it is 6.30 in the morning. Why does the clock remind me to be awake when I already am? Or maybe I am not.

He is still in la-la land. I notice his curly mop of hair, his most striking feature that makes him look attractive yet child-like even when he lies here in a slumber. He lies here next to me. And I lie next to him with a million thought-bubbles in mind. Thoughts about him throb in my head, for every single moment of my waking life. These thoughts make an appearance in motion, in a sequence; in flashbacks.

There is a perception tied up with being in a new woman in a man’s life. When you date a guy who is a practical mess, you are a little guide of shining light for him. How are you supposed to be his messiah anyway? When you are nothing but a nomad yourself? In search of something that may not exist. Or it may. In utopia.

He coos about me being one of the things that make him happy, but sometimes he won’t give me a reason to feel the same. Sometimes his words seem forced, because he knows that I live for these validations. Sometimes, his validations seem unconvincing to me. For that elusive peace of mind.

How do you react when he says that the things I do unintentionally remind him of her?

She was the ‘most amazing woman’ he had ever met. Apparently. I think that tag should pass onto me. Why not?

When you are told about his past, you never really know how to react. The gong of jealousy hits you in the throat, and in the head, as he continues to talk about her. If you vocalize that his statements are turning you off, you are no sport. Insecurity, these Martians have named it.

As a matter of fact, I did tell him my opinions.

“You are thinking too much,” he retorted. And then wham! The man will close in on me. “I need to stop thinking about her,” he claims. “Or I won’t be able to give myself in this relationship.”

Snap. This is how he distances himself from me.

Feelings are dangerous things that should never be spoken about. Positively, he does teach me things about myself. I decide to maintain an icy cold conduct with him. But no. He then needs to be my knight in shining armour and show the sweeping side in him. The reason why I fell for him. I once again find myself happily tingling with his attention.

I reassure myself that everything is fine. It is just the over-thinking. My mind’s mechanism sends me into over-drive.

She makes an appearance again. “She was just another girl in your life.” I speak in a reassuring cadence, secretly begging him to spend time with me this very moment; instead of being caged in the corridors of the past. Then I put on a confidant face and offer him advice which I wish he would use.

His next woman might very well say the same thing about me. My mind decides to let me find peace only when I die.

Maybe I should drop a not-so-subtle hint that I too have feelings. Yes, I know I am safe in this relationship. We are magic when we are together. Like paper to fire.

Of course, he doesn’t mean to hurt me. He likes to keep communication channels open in this ‘whatever-it-is-that-we-have’ stage.

Doesn’t our relationship need a label? Heck, who came up with this labeling business anyway? We were never the conventional ones.

He needs her. I need him. Maybe I even want him.

These talks put him off. Maybe I shouldn’t reveal these feelings to you.

Wait a second. What am I afraid of? Hurting his feelings or mine? Or just losing out on whatever precious time we may have together? Or the fear that I may end up alone with a goldfish and a cat for company?

Maybe I’m just very vulnerable right now. Maybe my mind is on a tripkill.

I wanted to be your special somebody.

Delusions. That’s all that is left of us.

I hope. No, I am sure that one day things will be good. Just like how it was. Not too long ago.

I am his other woman.

           And no. It doesn't pay much to be an emotional slut.