On Infidelity

On Infidelity

The concept of being “the other” is often associated with a great sense of guilt and shame, of societal pressure of “doing something wrong” and “taking away from” when the reality is most often that the adulterer voluntarily seeks out what they are missing from their relationship.

It’s never as simple as one person deciding to be a homewrecker or somehow inherently more selfish. There are already parties involved in a committed relationship who aren’t giving each other what they need. And yet, it’s almost always the mistress (in the female form) that gets the bad rap. Even her male counterpart doesn’t get as much shit for being a paramour, yet somehow that misogyny creates such a deep chasm for one to get lost in that you can easily feel completely alone and misunderstood.

I personally found myself with many of my loved ones being harsh and unkind, not only towards me but towards my paramour. The snap judgement is easy in that case, and it denotes a cruel lack of compassion and understanding. Not that one should agree with adultery, but there should be a willingness to understand all sides of a story, especially when it pertains to someone you love and trust. Some cheaters are just dicks, but many are simply unhappy people who may not be equipped with the best coping mechanisms for abusive and shitty behaviour.

For the longest time, I was torn and stuck in a place where part of my heart belonged to a person who wasn’t available or able to fulfill my needs. It was heartbreaking for both of us, and amidst our travels, I constantly felt this pull and urge to throw myself in the sea. The melancholy would scream at me like a siren, and I’d feel as if the desperate romanticism of it all would simply consume me alive.

The intense sadness, grief, and emotions that “the other” feel are too often left out of mainstream depictions of what affairs really look like. And it’s a painful thing to experience.

My life has drastically changed since then, and I am very grateful to be in a better place now where I don’t feel like the very fabric of my being is being ripped apart at the seams. This poem is a reflection of both my melancholy and my love as a mistress.

Ocean Blues

I can’t shake
California in my bones;
sunsets and secret
whispers in the wind.

The lasting impression
of a déjà vu
rushing out to
reach a rustling shore.

Sky trails and certainties
was I as old then
as I feel in my bones now?
My only constancy
the unshakeable feeling
that we were right where
the world needed us
more than all else.

Monterey
sounds strangely like
marmalade
at least that’s what I thought
the first time I heard it
Ratched times
and a cup of clam chowder.

I’d rather be
left in a million pieces
like the pebbles on a beach
than picture living
without the sunshine
of your love.

Most people who say
California Dreamin’
have no idea
what it’s like
to sit on a stumpy log,
watching the setting sun
and wondering
when that life ended
and this one began.

© 2020 Lilith Ember All Rights Reserved

Click here to read “Missteries”.

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