My secret lover dumped me when his cat died
How I was dumped is a new Yahoo UK column in which anonymous writers share the shocking and heart-wrenching ways their relationship ended.
Beth*, 40, knew Paul*, 42, was married but found herself falling in love with him. The guilt over his wife was hard enough to handle, but then came his obsession with his pet.
Paul and I were colleagues who lived 200 miles apart. One night, after a boozy work do, we’d ended up kissing. I knew it was wrong but I’d always been hugely attracted to him. We started sneaking away to be together, conducting our affair in Travelodges and Premier Inns. It sounds seedy but it really wasn’t. We loved each other and would be just as happy chatting non-stop over drinks as being in bed together.
This went on for two years. Paul was my partner – there was no other man in my life. He’d made it clear that 'one day' he’d leave his wife, Marianna*, and we’d be together as a proper, non-secret couple. Their marriage had fizzled out, he said. They were just like housemates really.
But even so, I knew what we were doing was terrible. I almost wanted him to end it, as I couldn’t bear to do it myself. No matter how much I loved Paul, Marianna was always at the back of my mind, oblivious to what we were doing.
He’d made it clear that ‘one day’ he’d leave his wife, Marianna*, and we’d be together as a proper, non-secret couple.
The other woman
When her mother died I tried to step away so Paul could help his wife through her grief. 'That would make me a decent person,' I told myself. Then Marianna was made redundant from the job she’d loved. Again, I tried to put some space between us. As the 'other woman', I was always bargaining with myself – trying to convince myself that I wasn’t some husband-stealing monster. However, in these times of high drama, Paul would insist he needed me more than ever – and wouldn’t let me go.
It was when their beloved cat became seriously unwell that his attitude changed. Paul and Marianna had never wanted kids, but adored their pet – she really was their child substitute. Naturally, I stalked Marianna’s Facebook page obsessively, and I’d experience what felt like actual pain in my gut whenever she posted pictures of her 'family' – herself and Paul, hugging their cat.
Then the cat died. I’d expected Paul to be upset, but I wasn’t prepared for the depths of his grief. His mother had had a spell in hospital, with pneumonia – and the cat’s demise seemed to upset him even more than that. Naturally, there was an outpouring of grief on his and Marianna’s Facebook pages. Our contact became more sporadic. I’ll let him work through it, I decided, and then everything will be okay.
As the ‘other woman’, I was always bargaining with myself – trying to convince myself that I wasn’t some husband-stealing monster.
Blowing money on hotel rooms
It was a relief when Paul seemed to be pulling himself back together. To be honest, the complete emotional collapse over the death of a pet had shocked me and actually, it was slightly off-putting. Keen to get back to how we were, I suggested a night together and booked a hotel room. As ever, Paul seemed keen to be with me. He even said he was counting the days.
However, the day before, he called me, full of apologies as he explained that Marianna was still really 'blue' about the cat, and that he couldn’t bear to leave her. The hotel room was non-refundable, and he didn’t offer to pay his share – but that wasn’t the point. I’d spend hundreds of pounds on rooms over two years and never minded about the cost. It was the fact that, a whole three weeks after the cat’s demise, this was still his main focus. "She was the cat of my life," he told me. I couldn’t get my head around that.
I’d experience what felt like actual pain in my gut whenever she posted pictures of her ‘family’ – herself and Paul*, hugging their cat.
An emotional rollercoaster
I stewed on it for days until finally I called him, without checking first whether it was 'safe' to do so. He hissed that Marianna was upstairs, and that he’d call me on one of his customary walks. Often, he’d go for a 'constitutional stroll' around his local park so we could talk.
This time, when he phoned, it all poured out of me – how shut out I felt and how let down. I was crying and shouting. We finished the call and later that day, he texted me: 'I’m sorry I can’t do this anymore.'
So Paul had ended it, as I’d wanted him to so many times. Although I was distraught, a sense of calm and relief soon settled over me. I never replied to his text or heard from him ever again.
Yes, I missed him terribly but I didn’t miss all the angst and guilt. Our affair that should never have started really was over for good. Now I could stop being the other woman and get on with living my own life.
*Names have been changed to protect identities.
Read more: All of Yahoo UK's How I was dumped stories.
