high infidelity

My friends,

I want to write this piece like I do with most of my other letters. I want to write it from both my heart, and my Notes app. Which, I’ve come to realize, are truly one in the same.

The best letters are the most personal. The hardest to write? Absolutely. The most rewarding? Also, absolutely.

I’ll set the scene like I normally do. It’s 6 PM on a Sunday in Rome. I spent the day at the pool. The sun was hiding behind the clouds and the trees, and you know what? I was feeling adventurous and chose to not obsessively lather myself in SPF 50. And I am very happy with the result. I’m sunkissed and hydrated and glowing, and I successfully avoided getting heatstroke. A Sunday full of wins.

I want to talk about something today, in both a broad and a personal sense. I want to talk about cheating. I want to talk about infidelity. I want to talk about why people stay in certain situations that are not serving them. I want to talk about why people stray, I want to talk about monogamy, and I want to talk about being the other woman.

When I was 18, I entered my first serious relationship. My first ever boyfriend. We went on our first long weekend trip to Montreal, about 8 months in to our relationship. And we were so, so, so fucking happy. We ate bagels and burgers and shopped and held hands and walked around everywhere. Ate dinner in Old Montreal, walked through the leafiness and greenery of the McGill campus. We’d buy a bottle of wine to drink together in our hotel room before getting ready for dinner. Isn’t that the best part of any vacation?

Now, let’s take this in. I’m 18. I’m in my first year of university. He’s a bit older, he has cool friends, he plays on the varsity football team, etc. etc. So, as a young girl who was brought up in society, I felt like I had hit the jackpot 8 months in.

Our self worth is reflected in who chooses us, isn’t it?

We’re both a bit wine drunk while waiting for our burgers at the dinner table. He looks at me and goes: “I’m always scared that you’re going to leave me.”

And as my young, 18-year old self - I was confused. Me leaving him? Why on earth would I leave him? I was just this first year university student. I was the one who felt lucky.

For the next 6 years (which were very much off, and very much on again) - I’d constantly and consistently find conversations with multiple girls in his phone. Nudes, sexts, plans to meet these girls (it was never confirmed if he actually went out and met with any of them), all of it.

It was the same cycle over and over and over again. I’d discover new things, he’d lie about them, he’d then tell me the truth, we’d break up, he’d cry and beg to get back together (one time he bribed me with a Tiffany necklace, and tbh I was like - fuck, I really like that necklace.) So we’d get back together.

But we’d break up for long periods of time. I’d be single for 6 months. And I’d really miss the constant attention, I’d miss the comforts of being in a relationship, and I’d get tired of being single. And toxically, I’ll admit - I knew he was always easy to go back to.

“Do you ever think you’re both just…comfortable?” A family member of his said to me once.

And that was exactly it for me. He was comfort, he was a routine. Sure, I couldn’t trust him. But I couldn’t trust being alone for long periods of time, either. It was a scary world out there. And being in a relationship - that was valued more in the eyes of others versus being alone, wasn’t it?

Now, on to his side. He, of course, never could explain to me why he felt the need to continually and consistently seek out more validation. I can only now come to the reasons of: potential self sabotage, levels of deep rooted insecurity, and a fear of abandonment. Neither of our needs were being met in our relationship, but we were so young. What were our needs? And who ever taught us about healthy communication, anyway?

-

This past weekend, I found out that there was a questionably long overlap between Peter Pan and I’s situationship and his committed relationship. Thankfully, we haven’t spoken in months. But, as per my Gemini mind, it had me thinking about the why.

Traditional relationships and family values, are at the core root of some cultures.

Look at how many articles come out around the holidays that are centred around avoiding the questions of why you’re still single to your relatives. “I’ll just make up that I have a boyfriend so that my *insert family member of choice* stops asking me about it.”

“Relationships are very much a symbol of status here” a friend said to me once as we met for coffee in a piazza.

Do you remember the story of my Italian landlord back in 2021? My first Roman Rodeo. We had been hooking up for weeks, when he casually dropped the: “I’m going to visit my girlfriend in Liguria next week.”

“Are you happy?” I remember asking him.

He shrugged. “No, but I’m old.” (He was 37 for reference.)

Love versus comfort. Comfort versus separation.

I had a moment today, while I was walking to pick up a jar of crushed tomatoes for my pasta al tonno. I was reflecting on my first relationship (it’s honestly a rarity - I’ve managed to block most of it out).

A thought came into my mind, and it went something like, “ugh, Emily - you’re writing about another failed relationship again.”

But then, I realized something. After one of the many times that first relationship ended, my mom said to me:

“When you lay your head on your pillow at night - I want you to thank Jesus Christ for not letting you marry a liar.”

If we don’t allow things to end, then are we really allowing ourselves to grow and to learn? How do we evolve as human beings when we are trapped in the confines of “tradition”? Of the confines of “family values”?

Of living through someone else’s eyes, and living through someone else’s opinion of us?

Now, we’ve named Peter Pan, Peter Pan for a reason. Am I surprised he was in a relationship, and lied about being single? No. Am I surprised he actually wanted to be in a relationship? That part, yes.

I wish I could psycho-analyze each man that I’ve encountered over the past two years, and get to their core root of why they have all a. lied about being single, and/or b. why they’re in a relationship in the first place.

And listen, in any long term relationship - it’s a beautiful idea to think that you or your partner would never flirt with anyone else, crave attention from anyone else, or step outside the relationship in any way. But, we’re human beings who are wired on connection.

You know what’s interesting? I was never angry with the girls that I found my ex texting. I don’t think I even stalked any of their profiles. They didn’t matter to me. It was always the why and the intention behind it. What was he not getting from our relationship? Was it something that could easily be fixed? Did either of us care enough about the relationship to fix it?

Where was the disconnect inside of himself that was driving him to search for more validation? For more connections?

Being the other woman is a phenomenon. One of the main reasons that I left Rome last year, was because I started to look at myself through the eyes of the men that surrounded me. I started to see myself as just a body. One that served a purpose for a small moment in time. Good for an escape, good for a make-believe fairytale. Only good enough to fulfil something, just for a night.

But that worthlessness seeps into other areas of our lives. That’s what I want to tell them. That feeling of being used. It seeps into our careers. It seeps into our friendships, into our personal relationships. And how could it not? How could it not?

What do I really have to offer, and will anyone ever see that? I’d ask myself in the summer of last year.

Remember the Disaster Date of 2023? When the guy I went on a date with, told me he had a girlfriend and then proceeded to say: “love means one thing in North America, but here it means many different things.”

And when I asked him why he loved his girlfriend - his response?

“Because she like sports.”

The foreign girl who is easy. Another line he said to me, that stuck to my skin for a long, long time.

I’m proud to say that I’ve come a long way since last summer. Since that first relationship. And all of these experiences - we can’t hold shame over. These are stories and experiences that I used to hold close to my skin, that I was embarrassed to talk about.

“Look at all of these failed relationships. What type of men is she attracting? What’s wrong with her?” I’d imagine my worst critic saying.

But that worst critic? Myself.

It’s hard to not view ourselves from the experiences that we’ve lived. And it’s even harder to not define ourselves from them.

Look at the life you’ve living - I’d go back and tell the July 2022 version of myself. All of the experiences, all of the dates, the stories you’re making and the stories you’re telling - it’s life, and it’s living. And we count our blessings for the endings. We really, really, do. Because we made it out. We made it out of the cycle.

I want us all to think about how we were raised. What did we witness growing up? What was our model of a “healthy” relationship? Was it healthy, or was it really just something we witnessed, and assumed it was healthy because it was “normal”?

What was “love”? What did it look like, what did it feel like? Was it putting up with things? Was it wearing a badge of honour just because of the amount of time and the amount of years spent together?

How often did we hear our parents tell each other that they loved each other?

My ex wrote me many letters after we broke up. I asked him once why he even claimed to love me.

“Time.” He wrote. “I love you because I have never dedicated as much time to someone as I have to you.”

Time is admirable. But does the amount of time you spend with someone equate to the value of your relationship? I’d love to hear everyone’s thoughts on this.

Okay my friends, that’s all for me. I’m going to enjoy my second espresso.

But I love you, very much. And I know I’ll talk to you all soon.

Xo,

Emily