The Other Woman

I know I am intimidating. I know that I come across as brash, unpretentious, often uncouth, and sometimes uncivil. I am the kind of person who has learned to be tactful, but still manages to be truthful. I dress provocatively, because I love who I am and all the things my body can do. I am unapologetic about my past and any actions in them, and I am open about things; my policy is that you need only ask, and I will tell. And I know that all this scares some people but I find this to be so at odds with who I am. For all that I am, I feel the real me lies somewhere between jester and joker; more fool than femme fatale. Which is why it amuses and saddens me that I am so often in the same situation....

I seem to inevitably make better friends with most guys than with most girls. Perhaps it is because I have a bit more in common with the average guy than your average girl. Take me to the cinema and I am in line for the latest action blockbuster; I unabashedly say that porn is exactly why the internet was invented and can list you off at least ten sites to find your jollies at; and I love - genuinely love - sport - no watching American Football just because the quarterback is cute. But just because I like being friends with guys, does not mean I want to be their girlfriends. I can count the guys on one hand that I have ever wanted more than a casual flirtation with but somehow, for most girls, this is not enough reassurance.

And so the inevitable happens. The friends that I love to spend time with, the ones I get on best with, get girlfriends, fall in love, and we fall apart. Well, not so much fall, as drift. I tend to do the drifting, so this is not all about a guyfriend or his girlfriend, mainly because I know how hard it is to be in a relationship, especially at the start. And I know how hard it is to have so many competing things in your life. I try not to be one more competing thing in an overwhelmed schedule; I think every relationship deserves that chance. Guys are not the only ones who disappear though; I have seen most of my girlfriends fall off the planet of the earth in terms of making time for me when a new relationship is on the horizon but in the end, they come back. Sadly, most of the guyfriends don't. And I chalk it up to being labeled 'the other woman'.

Case in point: I went on a number of dates with someone years ago. He was a great guy, but we never clicked. He had issues, and his issues weren't so compatible with my issues. In fact, we never even kissed despite going on more than three dates, one which included meeting his mother (read: ISSUES). Yet, for all intents and purposes, we got along great and we both had crazy schedules that just meshed well. When the rest of the world was asleep, we were awake and normally out having breakfast at a seedy diner and talking about life, love and the general pursuit of that elusive bubble called happiness.

Things were good. Until he met and started dating someone he liked. I was there at the beginning, when she was one among many; I was there to talk him through it, to help him decide, and even thought she was the one he should choose. I even made sure to always include her in any plans we had, and harped on getting the chance to meet her. And I did, once, at a halloween party I threw. Yes, that one. And you would think, that would make someone even less threatened by me. Inappropriate behaviour? Check. No interest in the straight boys? Check. Pissed out of her mind? Check. Not exactly an attractive picture

But instead, she grew even more anxious about our time together. And then came the fateful day when I was no longer 'Marisa' but 'her'. Ever known anyone whose name you just can't bring yourself to say? Exactly. We all know what it means when your very existence can be summed up by a pronoun. That person loathes the very ground you stand upon. And I backed off. I stopped trying to initiate time out together and suddenly got very busy most of the time. Yes, my guyfriend still tried. He made time for me, and worked with my schedule. And then came the even more fateful night when hanging out at his place, playing games on the Xbox, and eating chicken wings and fries, she called to say goodnight. And as I went to ask him a question, I got shushed. Uh huh. He was not telling her that I was hanging out at his place. In fact, I am pretty sure he was not telling her that he even still knew me. Not surprisingly, we never hung out again.

But it still makes me sad, this far down the line, that I don't have this person in my life. Who knows; we might have ended up hating each other by now, but I liked talking to him. I liked learning all about him and all the things he knew that I did not. His experiences had been so vastly different from mine; and I liked arguing about the most esoteric of topics; sometimes, I liked just sitting quietly with him, saying nothing, and listening to him strum his guitar. But all those things I liked in him as a friend were lost the minute some girl decided that because I had tits and no dick, I was a force to be reckoned with and controlled.

And I know it will happen again. It happens without fail at least once a year. No wonder I have to replenish my stock of guys friends so often. And while it may be fun to get out there and find someone new to click with, it also means that those people who have come to know me best are suddenly lost to me. And I am stuck trying to find someone to replace something that took months, even years to build. And I am always glad for the friends I have now, the ones who are single or even better, have girlfriends who see me as the non-threat I am. Think about it: I knew him before they did and still did not want to get down and dirty with him. The way I think of it is that if I wanted him, I could have had him. And I did not do anything about it. So relegate me to the drawer of nonthreatening items, and a possible best friend. Because who knows your boy better than the girl he can act like an ass around?