Married women will hate me… but I’m the other woman. And I’ll tell you, Christmas is harder for us lovers, even if your husbands buy us expensive gifts!

It’s that time of year again. The time when the world rejoices, families come together, and lovers enjoy that special moment alone.

What woman doesn’t enjoy seasonal gifts and cozy gatherings, touching gestures and all those social invitations that truly validate a relationship?

Unless you’re the other woman. The one that shouldn’t be there at all.

For those poor creatures, this is the loneliest time of the year: a festival of heartbreak, painful reminders, and rejection.

I learned this the hard way, spending the most desperate Christmas of my life as a second-tier partner, pushed into the shadows just when it really mattered.

I know there are many married women who will hate me for bringing all this to light. And I guess I only have myself to blame, although I had never dreamed of becoming someone’s dirty little secret in my life.

I first became the other woman 13 years ago, when I met my then-boyfriend at a party in Manhattan. I was 29 and he was older and more experienced at 45.

Long story short, I had no idea he was married. There was no ring, no obvious sign… and he certainly didn’t tell me.

We dated for six months, I fell madly in love but only then did I discover the truth.

I wish I had ended it right then and there, but after my initial fury subsided – and we had an explosive fight – I accepted his excuses.

I believed him when he said his wife was a horrible person. I believed him again when he claimed they were separated. And I kept seeing it.

I don’t mind saying that I was passionate about the boy. And, when Christmas came, I hoped above all that he would invite me to spend it with him and his children, or at least make time to come see me.

That’s when the excuses started. They told me it was “too soon,” that his children weren’t ready, and that he still had to co-parent with his wife. He stated that it would be “inappropriate” for me to be around them.

Once again, I was naively trusting. I went to parties alone and, over and over again, I explained to him that my boyfriend ‘had to be with the kids.’ By the way, it’s a good excuse. Women believe it.

Exiled to my parents’ house for Christmas, lunch was delicious and there were presents under the tree. She should have been happy, but she wasn’t because the boyfriend she loved was missing.

I hardly spoke to him all week and when I would strike up a conversation on the phone, he would whisper that he was busy “spending family time” and we would talk later. Then he “forgot” to call.

So there were no romantic meetings, not even secret ones. There were no stolen moments in tasteful hotels, no candlelit dinners or walks in the countryside.

I tried to forget about the pain. I told myself that my boyfriend’s disappearance was just “part of being a dad” and that, one day, he would actually introduce me to the kids.

We would all spend the holidays together.

He knew I wasn’t happy, of course, and tried to make it up to me with lots of flowers and gifts. She sent me jewelry, lots of jewelry, including a beautiful black diamond ring.

When he finally escaped from his family, he took me to sumptuous dinners and paid for everything.

But none of that makes up for being separated from the person you love. Knowing that he had chosen to be with her, not me, only made it worse.

The truth is that the other woman never comes first. Yes, you will receive a great gift, probably a bigger and more lavish gift than the one he gave his wife.

But it is nothing more than a consolation prize, without consolation. You never understand the person. A cold gift is no substitute for human warmth.

It wasn’t just Christmas that was difficult: I had already gone through Thanksgiving, which had been doubly difficult because that year it coincided with my birthday. He didn’t even bother to make a brief appearance at my party.

When I complained, trying to sound friendly instead of angry, he promised to make it up to me. And true to his word, he took me to the Caribbean island of Aruba the following week.

I would have changed that a hundred times to have the man I loved holding my hand when I blew out my birthday candles.

Was there a thread or two of truth in his web of deception? Maybe that’s what made it so compelling. Their marriage went through a bad patch. But it took me two long years to realize that he had not significantly separated from his wife at all. And that it was never going to end with this.

I guess the truth must be obvious to everyone else: that you think you’re in a relationship but, in reality, you’re alone. That he doesn’t really want to be with you at all and he also doesn’t tolerate anyone else having you.

After all the worry, stress, fond hopes and feverish self-deception, I was never more than his part at his side.

Here, then, is my Christmas gift to you, the one lesson that will endure through the years: married men will never abandon their wives.

He’s still with her now.