Porn Is The Other Woman


I am feeling magnanimous today.  I can interpret his betrayal in a similar light to any other affair.  Affairs are often compared to addiction, addictions to the love and attention which supplies, which addresses any needs not being met in the marriage.  In that, my pain mirrors that like any other woman, any other spouse, betrayed by an affair.

One that lasted at least five years.

With an ‘other woman’ which will not go away.

His ‘other woman’ was, is, his addiction(s).

‘They,’ the experts in recovering from affairs, say to immediately stop all contact with the other woman.  Only then can withdrawal from the addiction to ‘love’ and good feeling begin to fade.  To move away if necessary, change location, change life entirely.  To change jobs, anywhere the other woman might be around.  To remove the temptation and the addiction to your lover from your life.

How can that be done, when the lover is the addiction(s), the fantasy, he carries with him at all times? 

His other woman is any woman he sees, desires, clicks on a picture of on the internet, daydreams about, gives him some sexual high.  His other woman is his addictions, to sex, to food, to anything that makes him pleasured and feel all giggly and meets some emotional and relational, or relational avoidance, need.  There is no way to escape or be free from that other woman. 

And so they fall, again and again.  Their truest love is ever present, ever available, ever reliable when they need a breast to suckle at for comfort, thrills, and massive ego stroking.

I can never compete.

No matter how beautiful, or how kind, or sexy, or sexual, or how many hours I devote to him, nor how many perfect acts of love I perform. 

I will always fail in comparison, come up short, be unheard beneath the buzz of his drugged, hazed, twisted inner voices.  She is always there, ready, seductive, with whatever attributes he chooses for his moment.  He is bumping into her at every stop light, in every store, every familiar corner he turned to run to the strip club, or meet a hooker.  Every time he logs into the computer, he remembers with vivid, visual, orgasmic sensory recall down the ingrained pathways of his pleasure centers, forever beckoning.

He has to want it more than anything.  He has to want to leave that cruel, satisfying, exciting, easy mistress and deal with an angry, hurt, terrified, bitter, traumatized, abused, real life woman.

With an affair, there is hope he will put the other woman aside and choose me. 

That somehow he will see how much he wants this woman, not the other.

With sex addiction, I am the other woman.

I am the one put aside.

I lose.

He has made his choice.

He has decided to not put any more emotional effort into this relationship.

Damn, woman, get your head out of your ass and MOVE ON!

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