The Other Other Woman (43 page)

Sent: Friday, December 7th. 4:46 p.m.

To: Wynne, Matt

Subject: Tonight

Did u leave yet? Can u meet?

He responded just a few minutes later.

__________________________

From: Wynne, Matt

Sent: Friday, December 7th. 4:49 p.m.

To: Katya Batsevich

Subject: RE: Tonight

I’ll be at Meehan’s at 5 p.m.

Chapter Sixteen

It’s amazing how a few simple words can rip out your heart and feed it to you. Not only was he going to see her, but the email was sent that very Friday night from his phone when he was having drinks with me and Brooke. He left me, someone he sees maybe once every six or seven weeks; to go meet some woman he could see every single day without ever having to leave his office. This was far worse than just finding out that he was possibly sleeping with her. Because in my heart, I probably always knew he was. But if he was going to sleep with her that night, he would have just said he would meet her at her place. This was far more sinister to me. They were meeting. They were meeting to discuss something. And although Jules and Brooke would both tell me I was completely out of my mind, I knew right away that they were meeting to discuss her moving to Florida with him. I could feel it in my bones.

To be honest, it took me some time to get over the initial shock. But since my kids weren’t home and I still had my computer up… I decided to do a little investigative research. Until he had gone to Ukraine, I had never noticed anything in the emails from Katya other than her needing help with jobs. But these were all emails that happened to be flagged by the system. What about all the emails that didn’t get flagged? I decided to run a query that pulled all of her emails going back to January 1st of that year. He would have just met me at our conference in early February.

I was incredibly nervous. Not only afraid of what I was going to find, I felt like I already knew. But I also worried that the fact that I was running the query might show up on some activity list if my boss was going behind me, as she often did. How in the world would I explain why I was running a search on all the personal emails between a married broker and his girlfriend?

The emails started to pop up and I began to go through them. There were hundreds. They emailed each other nearly every day, sometimes several times a day. Looking back at the ones in January, it was instantly clear that they were seeing each other, or at least had been. I should have been shocked, but I wasn’t. They appeared to have had some sort of fight because he wasn’t leaving his wife fast enough for her (imagine that), and she had ended things between them because of it.

The very night that I was meeting him for the first time at the conference, Katya Batshitcrazy had already sent him an email that morning with the subject line “HOW MANY MORE DISAPPOINTMENTS DO YOU HAVE IN STORE?” There was a picture attached that she had obviously stolen off of Sandra’s Facebook page. I know this because, well, yeah, I had looked at that picture too. Sandra had her arms wrapped around him at Christmas, and they both looked really happy. Not that I couldn’t totally appreciate how she was feeling, but what a cuckoo fucking crazy thing to send to him at work. I bet he flipped out on her for that move.

When he called to tell me how great it was to finally meet me that Monday, he was emailing her that his staying married to Sandy was just a temporary setback. Her reply was, “In my opinion two years is not temporary. How do I find the strength to forget about you forever?”

They’d been having an affair for over two years. There were a few more emails later into February where she told him that he could only have one of them, he had made his choice, and that she was done. If he responded at all, his replies to her were very short, abrupt, and quite honestly, cold. She obviously loved him, or seemed to, and he blew her off pretty easily. For a split second, I felt bad for her. I knew exactly how she felt.

It seemed like he barely responded to her at all anymore. I didn’t enter the scene as a prospective romance until April, and I couldn’t find anything particularly scandalous past February. There was nothing from her but job-related emails to him, asking him to call this person or that, asking if she could use his fax machine or if he would print something for her. They were still in contact, but the nature of it, at least via email, had changed significantly. Well, until those emails to him in Ukraine. But I still had no proof that they were currently seeing each other. In fact, looking at the ones she sent him in June, she told him she was sad that they had drifted apart, and “Did something happen?” Yeah, something happened, sweetcheeks: Me.

I spent three hours combing through those emails that night. Many of them were written in half English, half Ukrainian, so I had to use Google Translate to determine what they meant. I was too scared and too tired to look back any further. I was so worried about getting caught. We weren’t supposed to pull non-flagged emails for any reason, and this was definitely not going to qualify me for any promotions. I was emotionally drained, anyway, and needed time to process the information I had just discovered. I couldn’t exactly be angry at him for falling for someone before he met me, but it certainly called his intentions for me into question. He had obviously been promising to leave his wife for her for a long time. He had always made it seem that I was the first person he had ever met who he just couldn’t resist, who made him consider leaving, who made him feel alive again. Perhaps I just misunderstood, but I feel like I would have remembered him mentioning that he was up to his neck in pussy.

My memory quickly replayed of all those discussions we had in the beginning. Being with the same woman for 25 years? Check! Feeling unloved and underappreciated? Check! Feeling like a teenager again? Check! It was all meaningless now. Looks like he left out a few pertinent details when I asked him about Katya, right before he slept with me. But I knew it all along. I just didn’t want to face it because I wanted so much to believe that some handsome, charismatic guy like him could have actually fallen for me. Under the circumstances, what was he supposed to say? That he had a two-year affair with the girl and decided she wasn’t worth leaving his wife? Maybe reassured me with, “But don’t worry, babe, I’m craaazy about you!” I kept trying to put myself in his position. But the fact was, I would never, ever be in that position.

Anyone with half a brain would have called him up and ripped him a new one immediately. Or at least cut off all further communication and prayed for him to fall naked into a pit of starving venomous snakes. But my problem was two-fold. First, I couldn’t very well tell him I had just pulled (and did I mention printed?) about 300 of his emails. Secondly, I loved him. I wasn’t sure I actually knew who he was anymore, but I loved my idea of him nonetheless. I was still searching for any shred of hope that I was completely wrong about him. Maybe my mind was just going crazy. Maybe there was a perfectly logical explanation. Perhaps he really was making plans to leave his wife and eventually find his way back to me. That’s what he alluded to in the car, after all. And if he was an expert at lying, I was an expert at lying to myself.

Like most women who suspect their men are cheating, I developed a sick fascination with trying to find out every single thing I could about “the other woman.” It was all I could think about. Nothing about the entire situation made any sense to me. So, he was cheating on his wife with her. But was he cheating on me with her too? Or was he cheating on her with me? Frankly, the idea of me trying to compete with a 26 year old with a hot body, no kids, and who worked in his building was just absurd.
She could have him
, I thought. But first, I had to convince myself I wasn’t going to accept the challenge.

What made things even more bizarre is that he seemed to be texting and calling more often once I got home. It was as if he knew I was making a half-hearted attempt to distance myself from him. We spoke every few days, sometimes for an hour or more. He continued to act as if we were still together, just temporarily separated by unfortunate circumstances. I no longer asked him about what was going on at home. I had a new problem now. I found out that my new problem lived exactly 0.9 miles from his office, in an upscale condo. One that would have been very difficult for someone in her position to afford on her own. So not only was she in his building, but they had less than a mile to drive if they wanted to see each other during the day. Every single weekday, in fact.

Brooke was definitely watching out for me though, and she saw no signs of them being together at all. She even started to show up to work earlier in the mornings just to make sure Katya wasn’t coming around before she got in. She was becoming more disillusioned with Matt by the minute. Not only because of what he was doing to me, but the issues with him moving were also coming to a head with the end of the year fast approaching. Every time she asked for an update on how they were going to handle her pay as he transitioned out, she got the runaround. Matt would tell her to stop worrying, that he would obviously make sure she was taken care of. But there was no real indication of what salary she would be receiving now that he was moving, and he seemed unwilling to discuss it any further.

I was an emotional train wreck. This would be my first Christmas since my separation, and it was definitely not shaping up to be what I had envisioned in my mind. In my fantasy world, he would have left his wife by now and we would be cozied up together in front of a roaring fire. I wondered if Katya would also be spending her holidays alone, wishing for the very same thing. I realized that I had allowed myself to fall into a horrible relationship cycle with him:

Stage 1: We see each other, and everything is puppies and rainbows.

Stage 2: We’re apart, he pulls away, and everything turns to shit.

Stage 3: I make pathetic attempts to break up, to try to save face.

Stage 4: He convinces me to stay. Bad behavior continues.

Stage 5: I reminisce about the early days, miss him terribly, and start begging for any excuse to see him.

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

I could totally understand now how women fall into these patterns of bad relationships and the way they can decimate even the strongest of self-esteems. Our good times were just so incredibly good that they quickly overshadowed the bad. All of the lies and circumstantial evidence became trivial when I compared them to not seeing him at all anymore. And this idea that he could discard me so easily, with no reasonable explanation, was impossible for me to understand. It demolished any last modicum of self-worth I still had, leaving me desperate to know what was so objectionable about me and how I could fix it to his satisfaction. I was obsessed with him… and was now obsessed with winning him. I wanted so badly to get back to Stage 1, when I didn’t know any better. But I was firmly planted in Stage 5. I was a Stage 5 Clinger.

****

Brooke’s dad lived on a big farm out in the country, just about two and a half hours from me, and maybe three and a half from her. She was bringing the kids up to see her family for the holidays, so she invited me and my kids to come down and join them for an overnight visit. Matt knew I was going to be seeing her that weekend, so he sent her with a bottle of wine for us to share.

Unfortunately, all that fresh country air and lack of decent cell service gave me a lot of time to think about how much I missed him. Since I hadn’t initiated any conversations with him for a while, as soon as we went into town for groceries I texted him a cute picture of me and Brooke with a bunch of cows in the background.
Happy Festivus from the farm!

Same to you!! Great pic!!

It’s cold as a mofo out here. What are you doing for Xmas?
I asked.

Same old stuff. Did you guys drink the wine?

Of course we drank the wine, what a ridiculous question!

Keep up the good work tonite.

Actually I’m getting ready to head home here soon
. Then against my better judgment I added…
BTW if a fat man stuffs you in a bag at night, don’t worry, I told Santa I wanted you for Christmas.

LOL I am kinda big for his bag!! And I forgot to give your present to Brooke. Will mail it, okay?

Oh, I think we could get you in there if you’d stop kicking and screaming. You can mail it if you want, otherwise you’ll have to hold it until the conference.

I showed Brooke his message.

“What the hell?! I can’t get one thin dime out of him for doing my job and you still get a monthly stipend? Ya damn hooker!”

“I know, right?” I laughed. “But don’t you think that’s sort of weird that he’s buying me a present if we aren’t together? I didn’t buy him anything. I would have, you know, normally.”

“Yeah, but you know he likes to keep you hanging on. He can’t be straight up about anything.”

“Oh, you noticed that too, did ya?”

“Yeah, you could say that,” she responded flatly.

It appeared he had lost another member of his fan club.

Christmas came and went. I had a lovely holiday with my girls and my mom, but I still missed him and felt incredibly lonely without him. I texted him a
Merry Christmas, Mattie!
message and he responded with a
Merry Christmas to you, Mal! Hope you and the girls have a great day!!

A couple of days later I got a photo of him, still with his ridiculously long hair. Wearing it pulled back into a tiny little ponytail. Of course he was dressed in a sport coat.
So, Mal, check out this ponytail I wore for Xmas. Should I rock this at the conference?

Not if you are hoping to get laid.

LMAO! Now that WAS laugh out loud. Let’s chat this morning, what time is good?

I’m going to grab breakfast so I’ll be back in about 15, and then I’ll be chained to my desk as usual.