Mayora’s Corner: The Other Women

He always has his other women. Hidden in between the lines of his life are the numbers of women that interest him. One he calls when he wants a coffee, needs a companion over dinner, wants a little chit-chat, or when he wishes for a travel buddy.

As a woman who marks her territories well, my constant struggle for years was on how to co-exist in this realm. When jealousy bites, I could hurt him physically, cursed him to the deepest hell, and wreck a havoc on anything that my hands can hold.

People say that it was just of my extreme obsession to him. But who can stay calm when you find underwear or panty-liners in your boyfriend’s apartment? People say that I am pretty, sexy and hot. But under the wrap of my supposed perfectly chiseled body is the fire of insecurities.

There were nights that I cry. There were mornings that I am lonely. There were days that I am gripped with fears.

He might not be the most handsome. But his words are powerful that can charm and tame. For a woman, to listen to him is to allow him to break and destroy her strongest guards. That’s what he is.

Maybe by having a child would change him according to the mold that I wanted him to be. It did not. Instead, it fueled much to my insecurities that I exploded. Everything that we built for years were razed to the ground and we decided to part ways.

But I can’t live without him, and he can’t live without me. Then we gave love another chance, and another chance, and another chance. I took an unfamiliar route to understand his side.

There are lots of ladies that he exchanged messages with – over Viber, Facebook, Instagram, and SMS. But in all these, he does no lock his phone especially when I am around. Our home is a “No Password Zone”.

He would allow me to open his emails and update him of the latest notification. I am free to read all his texts for as long as I can. Sometimes, his girl-friends do not know that I am the one responding to their texts.

I have access to his Cloud account where everything are synched.  I am the sole manager of his finances, so I can trace and track everything that he spent his money with.

Instead of mudslinging his other women, I befriended them, so I can freely ask questions like “Why in heaven’s name that you like him?” [As if I don’t.] Here are their answers:

“Because he is the kind of person that no matter how drunk I am on a night before, I know would regret nothing the morning after.”

“He cloth himself with the stories of his family. I spent days with him on a road trip. But our stories start and end with his family.”

“He can lure, but he is a thinking predator. He understands well the chances of consuming his prospects when they enter his fold. But he knows the value difference between family and one-night-stand.”

Then it dawned on me that his other women are not vultures but are ladies of their own class, good friends with high moral integrity gifted with elegance of their own. They are the fortress that safeguard him when I am wandering in the wilderness of confusion.

Today, many of them are my extended eyes, alternate ears, and silent whisperers of what is going on around him. After all, a flower does not think of competing with the flower next to it. When they bloom together, they are the most beautiful.

 

(Note: This writer is the girlfriend of the owner of this site.)

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