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Dear Mistress, I've heard that you feel sorry for me. Though you have many things to be sorry for, here's why I feel sorry for you!Dear Mistress,

We’ve met before. I have something other women in my position don’t. I know exactly who you are. It is my hope that you read this. My husband still deeply cares what I say online so he may try and shield you from it. It is my hope that this letter finds you somehow.

You probably expect me to call you a whore. You probably expect me to criticize you on your looks. But here’s the thing. I’ve seen the numerous selfies on your Facebook page and I suspect you already suffer from low self-esteem. And who am I to make another woman feel insecure about her looks?

I know you know how it feels to have a husband who stops looking at you, really looking at you. I know you know how it feels to have your world spin out of control. I know you also know exactly how it feels to look at the husband you loved with all your heart and think, “Who the hell are you?”

I want you to know that I know where the blame for this affair lies. His commitment should have been enough. His love should have been enough to steer himself away from the rocks.

There will always be women like you, those who don’t know their worth, who think that scraps of love are all they deserve. I know you don’t really believe in God, but please know He wants so much more for you. I know, because He wants so much more for me.

So let me appeal to you as a mother for a second. You have daughters who look up to you. How will you feel when this happens to them one day? How will you feel as you hold your babies in your arms and nurse their broken hearts? You watch your own daughters cry for a father who isn’t in their lives. And yet you gave that to my children. You’ve met them.

They are amazing people. They will survive this, but my youngest will never have a single memory of her family intact. I wonder if you think about that. I’ve heard that you feel sorry for me, but have you shed any tears for what you’ve taken from them. Now they too have to settle for what time they can get with their father.

I am angry. I’m sad. But yet something inside me wants to tell you Thank YOU! Thank you for giving me the freedom to be happy. You have no idea who this man really is, but I know him better than anyone. Scraps of love is really all he has to offer. No amount of bringing your “love” out into the light of day can change that. He just doesn’t have any more to give you.

What little of his heart he does possess belongs to me. Whether he tells you he loves you or not. He loved me then, he loves me now, and he will love me till his last breath. He is still telling me he loves me, though I know it’s all manipulation. I’m not entirely sure he knows how love is supposed to be.

One day God is going to bring me a beautiful man who loves God first, then me. And I will come alive. For the first time in my life I will have someone who loves me in a pure and unselfish way. He will kiss me till my lips burn and will never stop stealing glances at me. He will be steady and true. He won’t lie or play games with my heart. And thanks to you I have something really beautiful to look forward to – falling in love again.

I used to think I was lucky to have scooped up my husband when he was young. The truth is, he was always the lucky one. I had no idea how beautiful and special I was. I had no idea what my worth really was. But I know now.

The best parts of him, the parts that made you fall for him – those are actually me. That light you saw, it isn’t his, it’s mine. I saw him the way God does and now he cannot see God at all and that’s probably the worst part. I hope he finds reconciliation with God, though I will probably not pray for him to find happiness. I will pray that I can forgive him someday for my sake, not his.

My love is all or nothing and he has chosen nothing. He wants my friendship. He wants my support. He wants me the way I was – compliant, always putting him first. But he is finding out that that girl is gone. He killed her.

He weeps at the funeral of the life he shot and killed. The “love” he was desperate to burn his life to the ground for is now the noose, heavy around his neck. Living with you has him caged still. He is not free and he knows it. He lies shackled between us, wanting everything and getting nothing. He wants nothing more than to live on his own because living with you turns you from a girlfriend into a wife and commitment is what kills him.

When he holds back. When he drops your hand after 15 seconds. When he stops really kissing you, and oh it will happen, trust me, then you’ll know that he isn’t an all in man. He’s in it for him, not you and in the end you will be hurt and you’ll still have to look at him every single day. And that will be punishment enough without any ill will on my part.

You will never be able to trust him. He still denies sleeping with you, even as he lies in your bed next to you night after night. Did he tell you we had a bad marriage? Because we didn’t. Was it perfect? No, but no marriage is.

He wants everything – a wife who loves him and takes care of him, and a lover who makes him feel free. But he is so far from any freedom he bargained for. And so you see, there’s no need to feel sorry for me. Don’t get me wrong, there’s plenty you have to feel sorry for, but it’s me who feels sorry for you.

Love is the weapon he wields. He is plenty charming. I’m sure the first time he told you that you’re beautiful you came alive, but none of it is real. You are the footnote in the story of Us, not the new chapter in his story.

Even if you decide to settle (and I know how it goes, it happens silently, piece by piece you will let go of everything you wanted in a man) you will always wonder about his faithfulness. Love built on deceit will never be steady. It will always be insecure, as I’m sure you already know.

You’ve already settled for sneaking around. Perhaps it doesn’t bother you that he was always telling me he loves me and making love to me, while doing the same with you. You settled for a lie. You let him turn you into a secret, something dirty and shameful. For that I am sorry.

I’m sorry you didn’t love yourself enough to want more out of life. But I thank you. Thanks for taking out my trash. I have the very best of him. I know because I take it with me as I walk away.


The Wife, The Overcomer!


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