My Husband’s Mistress Was Stunning—I’d Have Chosen Her Myself If I Were a Man. You Know the Type: Confident Women Who Walk with Poise, Meet Your Gaze, and Command Respect Without Flash or Fuss. She Was Exactly Who I’d Have Picked—My Complete Opposite. Because Me? I’m Always Rushing, Barking at the Kids and My Husband, Never on Top of Anything, Swamped at Work, Bosses Never Satisfied—Living in Permanent Trousers and Jumpers Because Who Has Time to Iron a Blouse? Her Lover, on the Other Hand, Had It All—That Figure, That Stature, Those Legs, That Hair, Those Eyes, That Face! And Ever Since I Found Out—Saw Them Together by Chance in a Café, My Husband Holding Her Hands and Kissing Her Fingers While I Sat Hidden in the Corner—I Haven’t Been Able to Catch My Breath. I Thought I’d Panic, But Inside It Was Just… Empty. That Evening, I Almost Asked Him Directly—So, How’s Your Mistress? She’s Gorgeous, Can’t Blame You, I’d Have Fallen for Her Too. But I Didn’t Say a Word. Maybe There’s Nothing Physical Yet—Just Chemistry, That Dangerous Unity of Breath and Thought. Maybe I Only Imagine It All. I Even Tried Googling What Women Do When They Catch Their Husbands Cheating, But Found No Answers. So, Do I Divorce Him? Tolerate It? What For? Funny—A Couple of Years Back, When Our Friends Went Through the Same Thing, My Husband Insisted a Real Man Would Confess, Take Responsibility, Provide for His Family. It’s Easy to Be Principled from a Distance. In Reality, All Certainty Vanishes. Eventually, I Confronted Them—Sat at Their Table in That Café, Looked at Both of Them, and Said: Well, Now What? We’ve Got Kids, a Shared Home, Elderly Parents to Think Of. You’re Both Clever—You’ll Work Something Out. Then I Walked Out in My One Properly Ironed Dress, Thinking I Should Wear It More Often. My husbands mistress was absolutely stunning. Honestly, if I were a man, Id probably pick her too.
Gone to the Dogs “Emily, have you completely stopped vaccuuming? My eyes are watering from the dust.
I retired recently, and the feeling of being utterly alone has begun to creep in. Only now, in my later
Gone to the Dogs “Emily, have you completely stopped vaccuuming? My eyes are watering from the dust.
A SENSE OF DREAD Last night, Emily awoke in the pitch-dark hours and couldnt drift back to sleep.
I retired recently, and the feeling of being utterly alone has begun to creep in. Only now, in my later
The Betrayal of Ones Own Children I often think of those distant days when young Dorothy would gaze in
I took my sister-in-law and her young son on holiday. I regretted it a thousand times. My husband and
A chaotic wardrobe, piles of unironed clothes, sour soup festering in the fridgethis is what my home
When Our Naive Children Chose to Play at Independence, They Ended Up in Debt and Lost Their Flat
When our children got married, we—both sets of parents—decided to help them get settled with a home. My husband and I had some savings, as did my in-laws. Pooling our resources, we had enough for a small flat. We wanted to buy it outright for the kids, but they insisted on doing it themselves to prove their independence.
Some time later, we discovered they had indeed bought a flat—one with three bedrooms. And where did they get the money? They took out a bank loan. And who was going to pay the mortgage? They assured us they could afford it.
Soon after, they wanted a car. Since the flat was far from work and public transport was inconvenient, they purchased a brand new car from the showroom—again on credit—even though we suggested a second-hand one. Undeterred, they insisted they were self-sufficient and knew what was best.
Their next wish was to have a baby, preferably born abroad to obtain foreign citizenship. Yet again, they took out a loan to ensure a comfortable birth and round-the-clock care from the doctor.
The baby was born. Then they wanted to redecorate the nursery, taking another loan to do so. And when we asked who’d pay for it, they always replied: “We will, we’re independent.”
Then misfortune struck—my son-in-law was made redundant, and my daughter was on maternity leave. No more income. How to pay off all these loans? They asked us to sell our holiday cottage outside of town, which we reluctantly did just to keep them from defaulting. Sadly, even that wasn’t enough.
In the end, they had to sell the flat and eventually the car as well, moving in with our in-laws. Now they complain they have nothing of their own—of course, because they didn’t listen. The loans still aren’t paid off; it’ll take years yet. Only sorrow and tears remain. Back in those days, when our children married, we parents, on both sides, wished only to lend a helping