A
21-year-old man and
my childhood friend,
whom we will call
“X,” had a serious girlfriend for
two years in college, and was
very happy with her (evident in
his Instagram feed with recur-
ring captions: “Grateful for my
best friend”). But he was actively
approaching other women and
professing his feelings for them.
As an outsider, I would con-
demn him as a hypocritical
womanizer. I always held the
blunt belief that infidelity is the
betrayal of trust, and those who
help the cheater are complicit in
the immoral act of violating rela-
tionship norms. Thus, getting
with X was nowhere on my moral
compass. Being on the other side
of an infidelity equation was defi-
nitely not a place I ever imagined
myself, but in a twist of fate —
one nebulous night in New York
City over the summer— I became
the “other” woman.
Amidst aimless bar-hopping,
when he tried to kiss me, I reject-
ed him because I knew he had
a long-distance girlfriend. But
he was insistent, saying, “We
are still young, we should live a
little,” and I drunkenly thought,
“why not?”
Terrible decision.
I observed the dangerous
effortlessness to indulge in my
vices just the next night. An
irresponsible fling subsequently
bloomed.
Although I felt nauseous from
being with him, there was a sinis-
ter excitement in the affair. After
a long week of competing in cor-
porate internships, I itched for
our fancy dinner dates in SoHo
and the movie nights followed by
romantic strolls through Times
Square. I was living with a cou-
ple and they thought he was my
long-term boyfriend.
The scenario was great, except
it was all a lie and I was fully
aware of it. But in my mind, I
had already enforced a denial
of his girlfriend’s
existence because
I
was,
honestly,
ashamed.
A part of me
even
knew
our
fling was built on
his insecurity. But
I wanted to be
flattered. I didn’t
want anything to
do with what was
happening
under
the surface. Yet
I was still, not so
deep down, dis-
gusted at who I was
over that summer.
However,
admit-
ting to myself that
I have consciously
betrayed my val-
ues and in turn
ignited my inner
dark cravings for
the forbidden fruit
was the inevitable
self-confrontation
I wanted to avoid
in order to “live
in
the
present.”
In other words, I
was the conflicted
“other” woman.
Soon enough, summer came
to an end and confessions of his
love for me arrived with it, which
contradictorily enshrined the
guilt-painted reality that he had
a girlfriend. I was devastated
that I helped a man cheat on a
woman who had no idea what her
boyfriend was doing behind her
back. So I denounced the affair
and we agreed to distance our-
selves when we returned to our
respective colleges, and he went
back to living with her. Yet, noth-
ing stopped.
We regularly fired text mes-
sages, where he couldn’t stop
reminiscing on our summer dal-
liances and I couldn’t contain my
guilt. He implied we should orga-
nize some New York City esca-
pades because “a guy who works
out and has a lot of testosterone
needs to have sex.” Two months
earlier, I would
deliberately dis-
regard such alarming statements.
But now, I was the conscience-
stricken “other” woman, so him
excusing his infidelity with the
precursor of masculinity was a
red flag for me.
I made some new discoveries.
While he was seeing me and still
in a relationship with his girl-
friend, he was also pouring out
romantic messages to another
childhood friend’s college room-
mate — a girl he had never met,
but admired through stalking
her Instagram. He was simulta-
neously telling his high school
girlfriend that she was “the one”
ever since they broke up four
years ago. She was shattered
when X misled her to believe that
he wanted to rekindle their rela-
tionship but later refused to leave
his current girlfriend.
With the growing tide of
morality burning within myself,
I started confronting my per-
verseness for feeding his falla-
cious ideas that he could just
play with four different women’s
emotions and presume there
would be no repercussions. So I
pressed his need to be truthful to
his girlfriend for his own good.
My role now changed to “the
good friend.”
In the following turbulent
days, a mutual friend of ours,
whom
X
would
habitually
approach for relationship advice,
discovered his cheating and also
urged him to tell his girlfriend.
This is when X called me cry-
ing and said: “I have told her
everything, she is sitting right
in front of me.” I knew him well
enough to know he was falsifying
a mental breakdown just to stop
conversations that made him
uncomfortable. But I didn’t dis-
close that I didn’t believe him. I
was exhausted.
A few sleepless nights later,
our friend showed me new posts
of X and his girlfriend together
that confirmed he faked the
whole event of telling his girl-
friend. Now, I felt the necessity
of slamming the brakes hard on
X. I was too guilty for fueling his
twisted romantic perspective. I
knew he would keep going if no
one stopped him and I knew his
girlfriend would be the one to
suffer the most.
After a month of pondering
about her well-being, I sent an
email to her with screenshots of
texts between me and X. I owned
up to my complicity in getting
with
her
boyfriend,
despite
knowing she existed.
Within an hour, X tried call-
ing me and I firmly refused to
talk to him, because him desir-
ing my reasoning for sending
the email only demonstrated his
ongoing belief that his “obedient
girlfriend” (in his own words)
was not entitled to learn of his
mendacity. But parts of me were
crumbling — I felt awful for doing
this to my friend, even though I
believed I did the right thing by
coming clean to his girlfriend.
With contradictions flaming in
my mind, I ultimately texted him
to close the chapter.
Although without animosity,
he expressed his devastation for
hearing his girlfriend say, “You
are dead to me,” and requested
for me to forward the email so
he could explain his “thought
process” for every event. Of
course, I was not going to help
him sow more excuses. Instead, I
implored him to face the situation
with veracity, as I was now the
“good moral being” in addition
to my previous role of the “good
friend.” He finally expressed an
interest in understanding the
root of why he kept on doing all
this. After that, we blocked each
other from everything (includ-
ing Venmo and LinkedIn). I
never received a reply from his
girlfriend, but I only hope I’ve
helped her future in some way.
Sometimes I wish this story
never happened. I distressed my
friend and possibly ended his
relationship. Yet, I remain con-
tent with the thought that per-
haps we all learned to never drive
down the roads of infidelity,
deceit and lies again. And as days
pass, I’m tempted to shelf this
experience as a faint, vile mem-
ory. But I precariously attempt to
hold on to the trajectory of will-
fully abandoning my moral codes
and rediscovering them. After
my stressful ride to the “other”
side, I commit to exercising self-
control next time my impulses
try to hijack my beliefs.
Wednesday, January 16, 2019 // The Statement
7B
Wednesday, January 30, 2019 // The Statement
7B
BY RAMISA ROB, STATEMENT CONTRIBUTOR
Infidelity from the “other” side
NIGHT SHIFT
ALEXANDRIA POMPEI/Daily