I Was The Other Woman: Why I Didn't Want Him To Leave Her For Me
I felt empty inside. I always felt empty inside after we had been together, but this time the emptiness pooled into my heart like a black cascade of smoke before he even left the bed. Maybe I didn't love myself as much as I thought I did. Maybe it was all just a front to hide the afraid, disturbed little person that really lived inside of me.
He once told me I was like his little piano; dark and brooding, overdosed with sad, elegant beauty that kept him lost in the melodies I so often performed for him. He said my low, sultry, daunting chords haunted him. I took it as a compliment.
I knew I didn't love him. I was curious about him. I never quite understood how or why he always managed to worm his way into my most intimate places, but I knew it wasn't out of love. I did care about him deeply. I wanted the best for him. I wanted to see him prosper, fulfill all of his wild and crazy dreams no matter how extreme or silly they seemed to be.
I wanted him to be happy, and although it cost me my own sanity, I knew that in some way I brought him happiness; because I too was just as wild and crazy as he and his dreams.
He needed our long nights lost in too many glasses of wine and pillow whispers that should never have been said. He craved my attention, my ideas. He was captivated by my imagination and the imagery I provided with every word I spoke. I could make him see beyond the veil with the things I would say, and, although he'd never admit it, it was me who sparked the fire fueling him forward.
He needed that. He needed what he wasn't getting, and I was always willing to give it to him.
I was not the woman that texted his phone every hour on the hour. I never made him dinner. I wasn't checking his whereabouts or planning date nights every Friday. I never complained when we went weeks on end without seeing one another let alone speaking. I didn't need to know his friends, even though I'm sure they all knew me. I didn't expect anything from him. I was not the woman to ever curse his name and call him an asshole because he kept me up at night wondering about his secrets.
We weren't skipping down Broadway holding hands in the sunlight. We didn't get all dolled up to go to fancy dinners with overpriced menus and sommelier service. We didn't dance until the sun came up at sweaty dancehall clubs. We weren't planning baecations or visiting relatives in distant states. There were no gift exchanges on holidays. I don't think we've ever even wished each other a Merry Christmas.
We didn't do any of that, because I wasn't the woman he was supposed to do that with. I was the other woman, and I knew my place, despite however it made me feel on the inside. I was fun and as carefree as a warm California breeze in the middle of December. That's why he always came back to me. He could be himself with me.
There were no standards. No questions. It was all be and let be with me, and he needed that.
He told me he loved me once. I didn't believe him though. No one ever really loved the second option, or else they would have picked it first.
But hearing him say it entranced the she-devil that resided deep within me. Being with him only highlighted the darkness that had suffocated my innocence so many years ago, and how could that ever be love? Torture would have been a more appropriate description of what we both felt for each other.
Pure, cold, bloody torture.
I didn't want him to leave her for me. We'd never work as a real couple, and I knew that. Canoodling between the sheets at godforsaken hours of the night, we did that well. Laughing, playing, behaving as reckless as we wanted to, we excelled. But dating, being together exclusively... Well that was nothing more than a funny thought to me.
Although it crushed my pride and left me feeling deserted in a wasteland of wretchedness at times, I knew he made the right choice when he chose her. She was a quaint, demure, sweet girl. Tame. That was the perfect type of girl for him to spend the end of his days with. We never talked about her, but if we ever did, I would tell him she'd make a darling bride. I could tell that she loved him, and she would stick by his side no matter what. She believed in him, probably more than I ever could. And even if she did ever know about me, she knew that he'd never actually let her go to keep me.
I couldn't be kept.
For nearly a year, I allowed him to use up my body as his own personal little toy. I enjoyed the release. He was a stellar lover, and there were times I would have been willing to quit my day job just to f-ck him from sunrise to sunset. Climbing on top of him, feeling myself slide down on his sturdy, thick shaft and slowly rocking back and forth until the both of us exploded made me feel like a conqueror. The way he would pant and groan and squint his eyes every time he pounded deep into my womanhood, with my legs, smooth as silk, wrapped tightly around his body, made me feel like the giver of the Earth.
And every time he came, with beads of sweat falling from his forehead hotly piercing my skin, letting out that long sigh of aching absolution, I felt like a breaker of chains, a ruler, a god.
But as I lay there next to him in my bed, sex heavy in the air and sheets moist with our fluids, the shallow, sullen, gloominess would always start to creep in. He would stay the night, cuddle me even. But even that couldn't combat the hollow abyss filling me up as he wrapped his arms around me. I always snuggled up closer, as if I could unzip his skin and climb into his body, but that wouldn't get me any warmer. It never did.
A rational person would probably wonder why I didn't just stop, end things for once and for all, go about my life, and find someone who would value and recognize my worth. But I've never been a rational person. And sadly, for a long time the emptiness he left me with every time we were together felt better than the nothingness I often felt when we were apart.
Eventually, I walked away from our secret love affair. Not just because I knew it was wrong playing in the shadows of another woman's happily ever after, but because I could no longer stomach the vacancies I created in my own heart simply by entertaining him.
Despite the glamour I find in keeping secrets, I finally recognized that it was never really him that caused the emptiness. It was me allowing myself to be his second option, because I was already treating myself like the second option.
That's the interesting thing you learn about yourself when you're playing the other woman. No matter how much fun you're having or how enjoyable the ease and simplicity of a no-strings-attached relationship can be, there always comes a point when a woman is forced to think about what makes a man choose her for seconds when he already belongs to someone else. It forces you to take an internal look at yourself and ask the question:
Why am I even okay with this?
Why don't I want more?
Do I even deserve more?
My answers to that question left me feeling a lot more unfulfilled and confused than being with him ever did, and I started to realize that our story was never about what he wasn't getting that I knew I could provide. It was about what I wasn't providing for myself. It was about me being cool with tossing my feelings and emotions in the backseat all in the name of a good time and mean-girl giggles with the homies. It was all about me not putting in the time to patch up the holes in my heart left from my own past.
It was about me foolishly thinking that if I filled them with someone void of the same morals and self-respect, I wouldn't feel as bad.
When I finally stopped avoiding the root of the issue -- my behavior powered by resentment, insecurity and fear -- and took the time to investigate myself, my thoughts and my feelings, that's when I was finally able to break free from the emptiness that made me feel okay with being the other woman.
And that's the day I stopped being her.
He played his role and I played mine. I can't say what, if any, lasting impression I've made on him. But I do know the clarity and growth our time together imparted on my spirit. And for that alone I am grateful.
xoNecole is always looking for new voices and empowering stories to add to our platform. If you have an interesting story or personal essay that you'd love to share, we'd love to hear from you. Contact us at submissons@xonecole.com.
Featured image via Being Mary Jane/BET
ItGirl 100 Honors Black Women Who Create Culture & Put On For Their Cities
As they say, create the change you want to see in this world, besties. That’s why xoNecole linked up with Hyundai for the inaugural ItGirl 100 List, a celebration of 100 Genzennial women who aren’t afraid to pull up their own seats to the table. Across regions and industries, these women embody the essence of discovering self-value through purpose, honey! They're fierce, they’re ultra-creative, and we know they make their cities proud.
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THE ITGIRL MEMO
I. An ItGirl puts on for her city and masters her self-worth through purpose.
II. An ItGirl celebrates all the things that make her unique.
III. An ItGirl empowers others to become the best versions of themselves.
IV. An ItGirl leads by example, inspiring others through her actions and integrity.
V. An ItGirl paves the way for authenticity and diversity in all aspects of life.
VI. An ItGirl uses the power of her voice to advocate for positive change in the world.
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I think we all can agree that social media really is a double-edged sword. What I mean by that is there is just as much bad that can come out of it as good. At the end of the day, it really is about 1) having your own mind, 2) finding balance when it comes to how much time you spend online, and 3) doing your own research instead of taking random people’s opinions as the gospel (i.e., facts).
Gee, I wish more folks did all of this when it comes to if a man needs to have a large penis to sexually satisfy a woman (he does not) and if a woman who has had multiple sex partners will ultimately end up with a vagina that is too large for smaller penises to please her (a lie).
Science totally has my back on debunking both of those things (more on that in a bit). Know what else does? A particular type of sex method that is becoming more popular by the day. One that just might convince you to, as they used to say back in the day, focus less on the “size of the wave” and ride out the “motion of the ocean” instead.
It’s called shallowing. Here’s what it’s all about.
What Is Shallowing?
GiphyIf there’s one thing that I wish folks would say more thoroughly when it comes to women and orgasms, it’s that when it comes to75 percent of women not being able to orgasm from only intercourse, the accurate statement is they struggle with achieving a vaginal orgasm without the assistance of some type of clitoral stimulation. Yeah, we’ve really got to remember that very few things in this life are a complete monolith — orgasms included (check out “U-Spot Orgasm, Fantasy Orgasm & 6 Other Orgasms You Should Try Tonight”).
In fact, it was while I was reading up on pairing — a word that is used for when clitoral stimulation transpires during penetration — that I decided to do some deep-diving into shallowing (because it was mentioned inone of the articles that I read).And what is it? Shallowing is when a penis, finger, tongue, or sex toy of some sort is used in order to ever so slightly penetrate the vaginal opening of a woman.
And why is shallowing not just a current sex trend but something that every woman on this planet should try? It’s because of what I’ve said, more than once, on this platform: it focuses on the most sensitive part of a woman’s vagina, which isthe first two inches of her vaginal opening.
When the emphasis is placed there, not only does it increase your chances of experiencing “the big O,” but it can also build up anticipation, which can intensify your orgasms too — yes, shallowing can also be seen as a form of edging.
Another thing that’s cool about shallowing is — and it really and truly can’t be said enough — something that makes vaginal and blended orgasms easier to achieve for some women really has little to do with the size of a man’s package or even his technique; it’s straight up anatomy. Yep, the closer that a woman’s clitoris is to her vaginal opening, the easier it is for a penis to stimulate both. So, science makes it possible for vaginal orgasms to be easier for some women than others.
At the same time, shallowing can make it possible for more women who want to see what a vaginal orgasm actually feels like (because it’s easier for the head of the penis to stimulate the opening of the vagina while the shaft can rub up against your clitoris; based on the position that you are in, of course — the missionary with some pillows propped under the lower part of your back is ideal for this).
Now that you see what shallowing actually is, do you get why I said that penis size doesn’t matter when it comes to doing it — and getting the kind of orgasms that you want? Contrary to popular belief, your vagina is only around four inches. In fact, some health experts say that it ranges between 2-4”. Anything larger, your body literally has to stretch out to accommodate; this includes penises and babies. So, if your vagina is “making room” for more than four inches, why in the world do you think you need a 10-inch man? Yeah…exactly. It really is time to get over the silliness. The average penis continues to be 5.5”. Makes sense when you take it all in (no pun intended).
Aight, so now that you know what shallowing is all about, let me try and hard sell you on why it’s a sex technique that you should try as soon as tonight (if you possibly can).
1. It takes the pressure off of you and your partner.
I’ve been working with couples for almost 20 years at this point. This means that the topic of sex comes up quite a bit. And if there’s one thing that continues to be an issue is inconsistent orgasms (check out “Why Do Orgasms So Often Seem Like A ‘Hit-Or-Miss’ Experience For Women?”).
Listen, no matter how many articles you read or sex positions you try, if you’re anxious, stressed out, or overthinking, it’s gonna get in the way of you experiencing high peaks of pleasure on a consistent basis. Since shallowing is something that can easily be done even in foreplay (via fingering and/ororal sex) if you get that first “release” off, that makes it easier to just sit back and enjoy the ones that (hopefully) are to follow.
2. It teaches you more about your vagina.
A part of the reason why I keep repeating certain facts about vaginas in these articles is that it’s amazing how little certain things are discussed en masse — like the size of the vaginal tube. And since shallowing helps you to stimulate the nerve endings at the entrance of your va-jay-jay along with your G-spot (which is housed a little ways from your opening), shallowing is a great way to explore that area of your body as you figure out what truly works for you and…what doesn’t.
3. It’s the perfect merging of foreplay and intercourse.
When you really stop to think about it, shallowing is like the bridge between foreplay and intercourse because you can use so many different things to do it. So, if you want to experiment with a new sex toy or you want a bit more time to “warm up the engine” before full-on penetration begins, shallowing is one of the most sexually arousing compromises there is.
4. It can help to increase your partner’s stamina.
A few years back, I penned an article for the site entitled, “We’ve Got Some All-Natural Ways To Increase Stamina & Sensitivity.” Listen, even though I onceread a GQ article that said that over 60 percent of the people they polled were fine with intercourse lasting no longer than 5-10 minutes — that poll doesn’t speak for all of us, chile.
So, if you would like your man to build up to going longer, shallowing can help to make that happen. Since he’s barely putting beyond the tip in, he can learn how to be in you for longer periods of time without being, well, in you.
5. It helps you to appreciate whatever “package” he has.
Again — and it really can’t be said enough — if shallowing is all about exploring the mere entrance of your vagina, you don’t need a man with BDE (check out “BDE: Please Let The 'It Needs To Be Huge' Myth Go”) or honestly, even anything close to it.
I mean, even though, reportedly, the size that the average woman says gives her the most orgasms is eight inches — I bet those women have never really tried shallowing before. 10”, 8”, or the average 5.5” can certainly get the job done. And well.
6. It feels A-MAZ-ING.
Okay,so now that you know about shallowing, I promise that if you put the word into your favorite search engine, you’re either gonna see articles on golfing (LOL) or sex, especially as of late. That’s because more couples are trying it out and getting mind-blowing results from it. So, if you’re looking for something new to try, give shallowing a shot.
Hey, anything that’s designed to stimulate your most intense vaginal nerve endings has got to be something for the record books. I mean, how could it not be? Lawd.
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Featured image by Juan Moyano/Getty Images