Disguised emotional manipulation

I am no stranger to an affair. I have slept with two married men, an engaged man, three men with girlfriends, and have cheated on two of my boyfriends. This is not a brag, just my history. Women are typically labeled the home-wrecker or the temptress when a man steps out of his relationship, but I’m here to tell you that it’s not all my fault. I would even say, in at least one instance, I was simply in love and he manufactured that from me.

I was told a long time ago that men and women can’t be friends, and am reminded of this theory every fall when I rewatch When Harry Met Sally. Just as Billy Crystal explains, the sex gets in the way. In my older years now and in the younger, more sexually-open generations, I do think male-female relationships are more plausible, but I would say that in my millennial past, this unfortunately rang true. Even men that I thought were just my friends usually ended up crossing a line at some point, revealing to me that they were always just waiting for an opportunity. It was really disheartening.

Once, a friendship of mine turned into more, just like in a rom-com. We had built up tension for years, I complained to him about the deadbeats I dated and he listened, earnestly, and I forced my crush on him deep down into my soul until I couldn’t deny it anymore. And he felt the same way about me!

The problem, of course: he was engaged.

I kept my expectations low, enjoying our friendship and savoring every flirtatious interaction. I didn’t know his fiancée, but I didn’t want to be the other woman, so I never made a move, despite desperately wanting him. We got closer, sharing intimate secrets, learning more about each other’s families, and hovering around explicitly sexual connections. But time passed, and they remained hovering overhead while I fell in love with the person that he was.

My husband and I are best friends. We attribute that to getting to know each other in a very non-sexual way (I was dating his roommate), so there was no pressure to impress one another or hide bits about ourselves, but we were into each other regardless. So when we actually started dating, we already knew each other and liked what we knew. We added sex on top of our friendship and it’s served us well thus far. We actually like being around each other … crazy.

Being friends first is very helpful to get to know a potential partner, especially if you don’t initially plan on them being a future partner, and that’s how it worked with my husband and me. But, with this guy, it was different. I was getting to know him without sex and expectation and I was developing serious feelings. But those feelings were for someone who didn’t actually exist. And he wasn’t showing me his true self like my husband was in those early days: he was playing a part and manipulating me to get what he wanted.

Eventually the sexual line was crossed. One night we were alone and his hand ended up down my shirt on my bare breast. A night later, we kissed. Next time, we made out. Then he fingered me in a dark corner. Finally, we had sex.

Each sexual event fueled my adrenaline and the crash after was severe. I anxiously waited for the next stolen moment, becoming addicted to the secrecy and desperately conjuring situations where we could be alone again. In groups, he would smile at me knowingly, making my heart burst and stomach flip. Between these times, we were still talking and expanding our friendship. With the sexual component now, it was hard to not blur the lines and think of him as a boyfriend.

But he wasn’t. He would casually tell me about the time spent with his fiancée, and I’d listen with my face burning and a nauseas sensation rising in my throat. Just before I couldn’t take it anymore, he would throw me some kind of bone about how sexy I am or how much he likes me or how he wishes he could do these things with me.

In the moment, it’s hard to separate yourself from your feelings. Obviously, this is not romantic. He’s telling me he wishes I was with him in those times, and he has full control over making that happen, but actively does not. And yet, it would pull me back in, relieving my body of its jealous rage.

Then, the wedding came. No, I was not invited. But this definitely shook me out of the spell. He chose her, he always chose her, and he did not choose me. I grieved the end of our relationship silently, not trying to cause suspicion among our mutual friends, and eventually, I was okay. Our friendship was different, but I knew better now and I had fallen out of love with him.

Then I met my husband. Because we were still friends and I was a perpetually single and dating woman, my romantic life was constantly a topic of conversation. He knew that I started seeing this new man and I was pretty excited about the potential. I was out of town for a work event and he was at a bachelor party. I got a text from him shortly after arriving at my hotel.

It started innocent enough, with a “saw this and thought of you” kinda thing, but he quickly tried to steer it into a different direction. I could tell he had been drinking and I really wasn’t in the mood for this. When he would say something borderline, I would call him out on it, and he would respond with a “I’m just joking” or a “I’m just trying to be nice, damn!”, and then try another angle.

When things ended with us, I spoke to my sponsor about the situation and really delved into my feelings that I had for and about him. I asked if I should share this information with him and she explained that it probably wasn’t a good idea because it wouldn’t do anything positive for either of us. I listened and kept everything to myself. But then you get pushed with drunk texts and bullshit and it’s hard to stay quiet.

Why should I be the only feeling shitty about this situation? Why shouldn’t he know how much he hurt me? Yes, I knew that I was getting involved with an engaged man, but my feelings were real and our connection was real (at least I thought so), but he just dropped me like I was nothing. And I suffered alone, quietly from it.

He says things like, “I miss you” or “[your husband] is a lucky guy to date you” or “You’re a super cool person” and then if I say something in the same vein back, he responds with shit like “I guess I believe you” or “I don’t know if you actually mean it, but it’s nice to hear”, creating a situation where I have to work for him, making him believe that I am not lying. Following up with a “I wouldn’t complain though if you sent a picture of your face.” to make up for my insincere words.

“Forgot what I look like already?”

“No, I could look at your Instagram, but it’s different. I wanna see what you look like in the present.”

Annoyed, I send a selfie of me smoking a cigarette.

“Thank you! I thought you were in bed. You lied to me.”

I wasn’t in bed. He was drunk and couldn’t keep track of the conversation and wanted to hint at something sexual.

“I’m thinking about a couple of things …” he says.

“Wow, you are super drunk.”

“No, really I’m not. I would be super obnoxious if I was drunk.”

… but you kinda are.

“Could be hanging with you right now” he says.

The rage boils inside of me. Our dynamic when other people were around was not my favorite. He was kinda a dick to me, making fun and being insensitive to shit that was going on. But when we were alone, he was super sweet and attentive. Because we weren’t seeing each other anymore, I mostly got the piece of shit version of him. So, I wasn’t exactly down to play this game with him.

As I cut off that line of conversation, we talk about our friendship. “I have to work on not making you mad all the time” he says. “You don’t make me mad. I’ve come to accept how our friendship is. You make fun of me and give me a hard time because that’s your personality, and I’ll jab back occasionally.”

“Damn that’s pretty cold. You should know how much I care about you. Our friendship is a real one in my eyes. It’s only a matter of circumstances that makes things different. We’re friends. It goes beyond that even. Physically, emotionally. You know that.”

I still have these texts. This is word for word. IT’S ONLY A MATTER OF CIRCUMSTANCES?!

“I can’t be the way I want to be cause it hurts us both. The carnal attraction is one thing, but it’s deeper than that. And I distance myself from you cause I don’t want either of us to get hurt again. Call me weak for reaching out to you today. But I did just miss you.”

Rereading these still infuriates me. To me, our situation was something real and I wanted more, but he did not, otherwise he would’ve made it happen. And I recovered from that, but here he is, trying to pull me back in with expressions of how he got hurt by this and that it was something deeper than sex for him. Even if any of that is true for him (which I doubt), how dare you bring that to my door when you’re married and I’m now dating someone about whom I’m super excited? I thought back to the decision I made with my sponsor to not tell him how I was feeling because it would not benefit either of us, and she was right. But he was doing it to me.

He continues to message me, apologies, explanations, victimhood, etc. Finally, I snap.

“You wanna know how I feel? I was in love with you. I was and though I knew it wouldn’t happen, I always hoped it would. And then you got engaged and then you got married. And I moved on. And I allowed this for so long because it was some attention that I craved from you and I pushed it to continue because that craving still creeps up. But you didn’t choose me, you never were going to, and I accept that. But I can’t do this anymore. I can’t thrive on your attention and reawaken that hope that somehow you’ll choose me. It’s too hard.”

He responds. “I understand. You don’t believe me, and I know. But it wasn’t a one way street. It takes more than just physical attraction to lead us down the road it did. I guess all I’m trying to say is that you’re more to me than I think you realize. It probably just sounds like words to you cause the proof is in the pudding. But in spite of how things worked out, you’re always in my heart and in my thoughts.” And to finish it off, “It probably means nothing to you”

Thankfully, I was out of that lavender haze enough to know that his messages were shit. I straight up told him I was in love with him and he said, “it wasn’t a one-way street.” It’s fucking hilarious.

After that, he attempts to lighten the mood, which is not the right call, dude. Like, we’re done. You said shit, I said shit. That’s it.

But he sends a lot of “sorry I’m a dick” texts and even asks to FaceTime so he can tell me he’s sorry face-to-face [eye roll].

“Can I just tell you one last thing? I won’t tell you ever again though”

“Okay …” I respond.

“I really do miss you. And in spite of this awkward conversation, I can’t wait to see you again cause you’re special to me and that’s never gonna change.”

“Okay, be safe for the remainder of the weekend.” I try to end the conversation.

“Haha thanks. The riskiest thing I’ve done all weekend is text you lol”

Oh, right. Because I was your mistress and you’re married and this is all a secret and WHAT THE FUCK?! WHY WOULD YOU EVEN SAY THIS?! READ THE FUCKING ROOM!

“Well, I owe you a pic too, don’t I?” The gall.

“No” I say, flatly.

“Oh, nvm. Sounds like you don’t want it. I just feel like a dick and am trying to compensate. I’ll talk to you soon.”

And then he went back to his bachelor party weekend and I went to a corporate dinner. It was a little surreal.

That whole conversation was emotional manipulation. Everything that he tried and I turned down, he would then attempt something else to see what would work. But it didn’t matter what I said or what he said, it was just for the thrill or fun of it. He calls out how it was risky to text me. Then why did you? And if that’s what’s most prevalent on your mind after everything we discussed, then I don’t think you were really as involved in it as I was. But that’s all he wanted: me to be involved and to give him attention in that moment. And, unfortunately, I did.

I told him things that I had kept to myself for a long time because I was pushed to do it, and it didn’t do anything really, other than cement that this was one hundred percent over. It closed the chapter to our story, but it still came with a cost of my time, energy, and emotions.

Some time later, I was talking to a mutual friend and some truths came out about him. I don’t want to give any specifics, but basically, a lot of the personality and qualities that endeared me (and others) to him were not actually real. He just says that he does things that he doesn’t actually do, and he’s kinda a dick to his family, and he seems really controlling over his wife.

It was another very eye-opening conversation. From the beginning, he was manipulating me to get what he wanted. He created a persona that seemed (and obviously was) too good to be true, and I fell for it. I fell for him. I let him treat me like shit and I waited for him to want me and I dropped plans and lied to spend time with him and I didn’t even see any of this until it was all done. He was fucking smooth.

Am I proud of being part of an affair? No. But I was also a victim in this situation. Men are not always lured away from their partners; instead, sometimes they’re the ones fishing. And they work really hard to catch us. And we’re fucking blind to the whole situation until it’s way too late.

I have dealt with emotional manipulation and abuse before, but this one caught me off guard because it was from someone in a relationship. There’s this sense that you’re “safe” from any of these ploys because he’s not looking to meet another woman at this point, he’s settled. So, when he tells me that he likes me or that he’s developing feelings for me, it must be real right? It can’t be some way to get sex because he’s already getting sex. But sometimes sex isn’t the only thing that gets people off. Control, manipulation, seeing how far you can push it can also turn someone on. And he pushed me quite far.