Home Australia Divorce is hard enough… but there’s one particularly cruel side effect that no one warned me about

Divorce is hard enough… but there’s one particularly cruel side effect that no one warned me about

0 comments
To be completely transparent, I am the first to admit that I will flirt with everyone, whether it be men, women, your mom, your dad, your aunt or your uncle, the divorcee writes (file photo)

One Sunday morning, about six weeks after my husband and I separated, while I was watching my son play soccer, the father of one of his teammates, who was standing next to me, whispered, “I can’t talk to you today because my wife is here and she’s not going to like it.”

Stunned, I told him I didn’t understand what he meant. “She thinks you’re going to win me over now that you’re getting divorced,” he added, rolling his eyes. I was disheartened, but I would never have thought of confronting his wife and causing him trouble.

Since my son had joined the team a few years earlier, I had enjoyed chatting with other adults on the sidelines—mothers, fathers, and grandparents alike—but I had never tried to tempt another man away from his wife or partner, and I wasn’t about to do so now that I was single. Still, I had the feeling that this was a personal comment and not something that would be made of any single or recently divorced woman.

To be completely transparent, I am the first to admit that I will flirt with everyone, whether it be men, women, your mom, your dad, your aunt or your uncle, the divorcee writes (file photo)

I’m the first to admit that while I certainly wasn’t trying to tempt any of the men I chatted with (I can come across as flirtatious), this was the first time anyone gave even the slightest hint that now that I was single I was being judged as a threat.

However, one time the husband of one of the mothers at school made a pass at me because he had misinterpreted my touch. I made it very clear to him that touching his arm during conversation did not constitute a pass on my part.

I actually thought a lot about whether I should tell his wife, but I came to the conclusion that it would be better not to. Would she have believed me anyway?

Sadly, being labeled a scarlet woman didn’t end there. As I tried to come to terms with the divorce and rebuild a new life on my own with three children under the age of nine, I noticed that I was no longer invited to events and dinners with the circle of married friends that my husband and I belonged to when we were together. This despite the fact that many of them had been (italicized) my (italicized) friends originally.

I tried to keep in touch with those friends, but the responses were cold and made me feel excluded.

Even those who knew me best objected to the new me, the one who had an ex-husband and didn’t wear a wedding ring. Essentially, I don’t think I had changed, but perhaps I appeared happier and more self-assured because I was no longer in a loveless marriage.

On a much-needed night out with close friends in a village pub, shortly after divorce proceedings began in 2014, one of my friends, let’s call her Laura, asked if we could go out for a chat. Slightly perplexed, I followed her into the pub garden, where she asked, “Why are you hanging out with Emma’s new boyfriend Nick all day?” adding that she’d seen me laughing with him and touching his arm as we chatted.

Emma has been my lifelong best friend since we met in primary school almost 40 years ago and we’ve been through everything together, so I was stunned by Laura’s accusation.

“Come on Laura, you know me well, I’m friendly with everyone,” was my reply, although inside I was broken and as my tears started to fall I couldn’t stop crying. Emma’s parents and siblings were also in the pub with us that night as our families have been close for decades, so it was only right that I forged a bond with her partner.

Too upset to meet them at the pub, I went home. The next day I called Emma and told her what Laura had said. “I’m sure she didn’t mean it, she should know you’d never try to take advantage of anyone’s man, let alone mine,” was Emma’s reassuring reply.

She and everyone who was there and knew me well knew that I can flirt without any intention. Maybe a stranger would perceive it differently, now I can see it.

The next time I saw Nick and Emma (who are now married), I felt the need to tell him what Laura had said too, which had upset me terribly because it was something I would never do. He simply said, “We all know you are outgoing and friendly, it seems Laura is insecure and the one with the problem!”

That’s not to say that only insecure women notice or are bothered by it, but perhaps someone who has reason to feel insecure is more likely to scrutinize others. If there is trust and security in a relationship, any third party becomes irrelevant.

Sure enough, Laura warned me about her own husband a few weeks later at another meeting of the same group. There was no particular incident, she simply grabbed me on my way to the bar and let me know how she felt. Maybe she just didn’t like me, I’ll never know because I haven’t spoken to her since.

Being abandoned and ostracized by my friends and acquaintances was a second devastating abandonment that I was not prepared for after my husband left, ironically at a time when friendship mattered more than ever. In fact, I was distraught. Another mother at school got divorced around the same time, so we naturally grew closer, as did I and other single friends. My platonic friends and some of my married friends were also supportive.

My husband and I had been married for eight years and together for seventeen (we met at school) when he left home a decade ago and I was left alone with three children aged three, five and nine. As you can imagine, I desperately needed my friends and even a quick chat with other people, like the dad at the football game, was a way to distract myself from my grief.

To be completely honest, I’m the first to admit that I flirt with everyone, whether it’s men, women, your mother, your father, your aunt or your uncle. But when I say flirt, I mean that I’m a warm, friendly, fun and confident person. However, I can understand that some people might misinterpret that “flirting”, although I don’t apologize for it because it’s part of who I am and I always do it in an innocent way.

Problems arose when I became single, because suddenly and without explanation, people began to misinterpret my kindness and my fondness for complimenting others on their appearance or something they had achieved, for example, as predatory behavior. Added to this is the fact that I have a successful career in real estate and I take care of my appearance, always doing my hair and makeup and wearing high heels, even to take the children to school.

I'm the first to admit that while I certainly wasn't trying to tempt any of the men I chatted with, I can come across as flirtatious, writes the anonymous divorcee.

I’m the first to admit that while I certainly wasn’t trying to tempt any of the men I chatted with, I can come across as flirtatious, writes the anonymous divorcee.

I think a lot of these women were judging and mistrusting me because I tried hard and they thought I was attractive. Nobody cares about a sloppy girl who gets carried away flirting with her husband. I’m not saying they should “dress up,” but we should all make an effort to take care of ourselves. There have been times in my life when I’ve felt sad or down and lost interest in my appearance, putting on jeans, a baggy T-shirt, and flats and paying little attention to my hair and makeup, and over time I began to feel unattractive and even unloved.

Then comes a self-confident, well-groomed woman who speaks freely to both men and women, and you can quickly see this as a threat if you don’t feel good about yourself.

At the school gate, I also quickly became persona non grata, picking up vibes from other mothers, many of whom I had spent years with on playdates with our children and parties, and on nights out without them. Worst of all was the impact on my children, who were excluded from playdates almost overnight.

Those who concluded that I had suddenly become a temptress were very wrong. In reality, the divorce had so devastated me that male attention, of any nature other than platonic, was the last thing I wanted at the moment.

At that particular moment, I didn’t miss male company at all. My children and building a new life for us were my priorities.

For two years, I wasted a lot of energy defending myself and trying to convince others that I wasn’t really looking for a married man. Socially, I withdrew and didn’t go out as much, withdrawing rather than risk more people leaving me. A year after my marriage broke down, I went to see my GP and was prescribed a course of antidepressants. I also started seeing a therapist to help me regain my confidence and self-esteem. I had really hit a wall.

Now happily married for five years, I’m still the same smiley, outgoing, talkative person I’ve always been. The difference is that now that I’m part of a couple, I get invited to a lot of “couples” events, but I always make sure to include my single or divorced friends too, as I know how much they can depend on that connection.

If I were to notice that any of them were flirting (or seeming to flirt) with my husband, I wouldn’t be the least bit worried, whether they were single or not, because we have a lot of trust between us. Flirting, in my opinion, is absolutely fine, while trying to flirt with someone else is different and unacceptable.

I am determined to never lose sight of the fact that I am a kind, confident, outgoing person who is also warm and friendly. This means that, yes, I can touch your husband’s arm while I’m talking to him, but that sure as hell doesn’t mean I want to take him to bed, and that would be the same whether I was married or single. I now realize that some women might not stick around to notice the subtle distinction.

Everyone is free to do what they want, they are responsible for their own behavior. It is definitely their problem and I will not be socially cowed by anyone again.

  • As told to Sadie Nicholas

(tags to translate)dailymail

You may also like