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- 21 Nov 15

An open letter to my Husband’s mistress:

I guess it’s my fault, in fact I think I introduced you to each other, what was I thinking? Of course he would fall for you, they all do. We were happy as we were, a bit old fashioned, stuck in the past maybe – although I like to to think of it as retro. I actually pointed you out, in fact I lusted after you too (although you were a little too black for my liking). You were sleek, curvy, modern looking and impeccably turned out. I don’t blame him, after all, you were looking rather gorgeous, enticing – waiting to be endlessly caressed.

From the first time he turned you on; and you too gave him, exactly what he wanted – he was hooked, and I’d lost a part of him forever.

You bitch.


You have all the answers, he confides in you, cares for you – and I know that’s it’s you that he wants to be looking at whilst we lay in bed. You probably know him much better than I do, and I bet you would know what he want’s for christmas. In fact, if I get desperate, I may cross the line and extract that information from you myself.

I guess I can’t complain too much, as I  am also ‘at it’. My bit on the side was equally gorgeous, dreamy white though, much more my taste. Looking rather well worn now, I’ve been too rough, possibly even abusive – and he definitely has trouble keeping up these days.

I think, mistress,  my main problem with you – what really makes me angry. I am jealous.

I’m jealous of the time he spends with you, he chooses you over me, and the kids. If we do have his attention it is peppered with the distractions that you offer – I wish I was as hypnotising as you.

I’ve got my eye on you bitch, I’m biding my time. If you are accidentally drowned or get run over, then I offer my insincere apologies in advance. I see your types everywhere, you aren’t unique you know, you aren’t anything special.

You are an iPhone 6, you are a thing, but shit, you have some appeal.

I am writing this to ask you one thing: Please, just stop being so fucking appealing and give me my husband back (not completely, I’m not mental) – I just ask for a 70:30 share (in your favour).

Yours enviously,

The actual real life wife, that has boobs and everything.

(Well, once I did, I’m sure I did – pre lactation).

***** Dear Husband,  there is only one thing that you can do which will grant instant forgiveness. Buy me an iPhone 6 too. Does that make me a hypocrite? Yes? Do I give a shit? No. Have you seen how big the screens are? ****

P.S.  Love you.

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I have no idea what I am doing, yet I do it on a daily basis. I live in the hope that I’m not screwing my kids up or setting them up to be more unhinged than me. This constant improvisation and flying by the seat of my pants has resulted in a need for an outlet that isn’t my darling (does that sound forced?) children. So here it is, the internet, the 'publish' button - shared insanity at the click of a mouse.

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