Attending My Affair Partner’s Wedding with My Husband

I watched my affair partner get married

In 2022 I watched my affair partner get married to the woman he was dating when we first connected years ago and I was his Other Woman.

I attended the wedding with my husband, Jerome. We bought plane tickets, a hotel room, a rental car, and traveled across the country to see them.

I got married to Jerome down the line after I got tired of being the Other Woman. I chose to move on after receiving little to no answers from my affair partner, Carl, as to where our relationship was going. I was heartbroken and devestated from being hidden away from his life in secret. I wanted to be included as a part of his family…and I wanted to have a family with him. I wanted to be known and seen. I wanted to be with someone who would love, cherish and appreciate me in the open full time, whether or not it included marriage.

Marriage, to me, represents the ultimate symbol of care and love for each other, of being in an open/public relationship with that special person you care about deeply as your family. I’ve also been in other types of relationship dynamics — multiple ménage à trois, quadrants — which were all open and wonderful, too. In my experience with those other types of partnerships, everyone knew about each other and we all had a good time.

So when I was kept hidden in secret as the Other Woman for a little under a year, I was crushed. It negatively impacted my mental health and my self-esteem. Even if Carl didn’t marry me, it was the hidden aspect of our relationship that bothered me deeply, as I always felt not good enough to be by his side. We could have figured out another type of dynamic, but he still didn’t want to. After all, if somebody hides you, aren’t you not good enough to be flaunted and cherished openly? These were my thoughts about it and my self-esteem was getting to an ultimate low.

I was friends with my husband Jerome at the time I was the Other Woman dating Carl. I ended up opening up to Jerome about my situation because I was so distraught about it. My husband and I were developing into the best of friends and eventually, lovers. I also felt I couldn’t be with Jerome without telling him everything about my past.

Jerome witnessed me through the ends of healing from my relationship with Carl and continued to love me unconditionally anyway. He loved and understood everything that happened. It is this unconditional love that we both share that eventually allowed us to slip into a healthy romantic relationship that included marriage.

But when my husband started struggling with an alcohol problem recently, Carl reappeared in my life.

Carl and I reconnected two years ago when Jerome basically called it quits on life and was drinking himself into an all-encompassing numbness. My husband and I weren’t having sex anymore, he wasn’t interacting no matter what I tried, so I didn’t even know if he loved me anymore. This was before Jerome admitted he had a problem.

I was also recovering from a life-saving surgery and felt completely alone in the dark. So when Carl popped back in, it seemed like an amazing opportunity to reconnect.

I debated for many months while healing before deciding to take the plunge sexually again with my former lover. Our sexual chemistry couldn’t help but reignite. I was so happy to have him back in my life.

I was ecstatic to reconnect with Carl. He was always in the back of my mind because Jerome and Carl worked together at the same firm. For a while after I ceased being the Other Woman, I found it difficult to visit Jerome at work because of Carl being there too, and took over a year hiatus from going there. But over time I slowly felt brave enough to return and risk seeing Carl face to face.

Meanwhile, Carl had never left the woman he was originally with, Maria. He was now going to marry her.

Yes, Carl’s wife has the same name as me, albeit for one letter. Her nickname is the same as my name—they also call her Marie.

Over the years gone by, our now quadrant — me, Jerome, Carl, and Maria (the other Marie) — learned to become friends…partly because Maria has been totally oblivious since the beginning.

Jerome forgave Carl with his own internal process without actually telling him outright. (I eventually told Carl in private that Jerome knew about us when I told him secretly, “Jerome has known about you and I for years.”) The two men are now good friends and speak regularly.

Because the four of us reached a healthier place (actually, the three of us, since Maria is completely unaware), Jerome insisted we go to the wedding. After all, the two of them were buddy-buddies now after head-butting for so many years. But I also believe Jerome was testing me to see how I would react. By that time, Carl and I were sleeping together again in secret while we learned to successfully heal our past.

Because Carl and I were together again, albeit in some way, I got to a place in my heart where I could see how getting married to Maria (the other Marie) was good for him. Carl was supporting me in everything else too at the time, so I wanted to be a good friend and do my best to reciprocate.

And that, I did.

I agreed to go to his wedding with my husband…

After a long flight, Jerome and I drove six hours to another state to the wedding venue, and landed in a neaby hotel the night before. We were invited to a next-door restaurant with the group of guys and girls included in the wedding party. The two of us tried to sneak in incognito as that’s our style, but Carl found us in the back eating burgers.

In a roar and excited hug, Carl lifted me in the air. He was very happy to see me. I was extremely excited to see him too and my heart was racing fiercely out of my chest; it’s hard to explain how twitterpated I get when I’m being loved by him.

It soon turned extremely uncomfortable, however, because the hug was intense and his soon-to-be wife was standing right there. I had to smooth out the situation energetically.

We all said our hello’s and Maria (Marie) very quickly separated off with her girlfriends. Parallel play was something I noticed she did often.

According to the promise I thought Carl and I had kept, I swore to secrecy about being his affair partner again and have not told a soul since we reunited. (Except indirectly to you folks on Medium, thank you.)

But I was a little caught off-guard going into this next situation.

I was introduced to his groomsmen, and Mark—someone I knew from Carl’s various stories and memories—as though something underlying about me was already known. I felt flattered, as I was probably secretly bragged about in some way, but the bigger part of me at that moment felt like I was all some inside joke. I was embarrassed. I didn’t know what to say or how to interact. I didn’t know for sure who actually knew our secret except for maybe his best man, Antonio.

During their actual reciting of vows I was sitting as far back as I possibly could with Jerome and a friend. We were sitting on beautiful white lawn chairs on an expansive golf course with a sunset view and rows of citrus trees.

I made sure to pick out my dress in advance many weeks before. I was wearing a deep magenta and black designer cocktail dress. I bought new black lace shoes. My hair was long and styled with curls down to my waist. Not too over-the-top or obvious to outshine the bride, but subtle, as if only the most attentive man could pick me out in the shadowed corners of a bar.

I was trying not to grip my husband’s hand too hard or make anything obvious about my internal chaos as the music started and Carl’s soon-to-be wife went down the aisle in her expensive dress.

She didn’t know her soon-to-be husband was talking to me the whole time while she was planning her own wedding.

I wanted to close my eyes and scream throughout the whole thing. Instead I sat there and breathed, and stayed in the space of support and love for my dear friend and lover who was choosing to get married to somebody else.

Remember: even though Carl’s wife’s name is Maria, they call her Marie. His wife has the same name as me.

“Do you, CARL, take MARIE as your lawfully wedded wife…”

Me? …Me?!

No, HER.

NOT YOU.

IT WILL NEVER BE YOU.

It was a fucking trip. My husband was holding my hand as he sensed my tension and I got to reflect on my choices.

I was sitting in the best possible position because I believe my husband sensed my internal chaos and STILL loved and supported me throughout the entire ceremony.

I felt relieved. I was not the oblivious woman on the altar. And my husband loves me. I was so glad I married Jerome!

Carl approached me two or three times during the evening to say hello and check in. Thankfully those were times I was feeling good, but I didn’t want him to see me distraught. I can hide whatever pain I’m experiencing very well amongst others.

He complimented me on my dress and silhouette. Although flattered, I felt splattered on somehow. It was his own wedding and he was telling me how beautiful I looked during a momentous rejection event I’d been fearing since we met. I couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable. All I could do was thank him and move on.

Although my best friend Antoinette doesn’t know about my secret affair, she spent many hours on the phone with me pining and crying about Carl, for which I am extremely grateful. She gave me advice before attending his wedding:

“Remember: if you feel awful, like I mean just absolutely awful that you can’t handle it, just go into the bathroom and have yourself a little cry. Then fix your makeup, and go back out.”

I was trying to act cool like that would never, ever happen…but it did.

When Maria’s (Marie’s) father said his speech, my throat was so sore from constricting it to hold back an ugly cry that I had to leave. All of a sudden, Antoinette’s advice became relevant in an instant.

Before I could take a mad dash to the bathroom without making things obvious, Jerome could sense my heart and squeezed my hand. He cracked a few inside jokes that made me laugh and unclenched some tension in my heart. I was able to hold it in for a few moments while we held hands, and then again, I remembered and appreciated why I married my husband.

“If you married Carl, he would have killed you,” my girlfriend Antoinette had said. I considered her words at that moment while I was relaxing with Jerome. I think she was right. I’ve since had many moments to reflect on this and after consideration, I still agree with her.

After a few more minutes, although better, I still decided I needed to go to the bathroom. I was much more composed and didn’t have to rush.

I let it all out quietly and discreetly in a stall. I didn’t care how nice the bathroom was, or how the beautiful womanly goodies the brides maids stocked in the bathroom were on those marble-looking sinks. In fact, the amount of money spent there just added to my disgust and confirmed the overall illusion.

It was a fucking nightmare.

No one would be able to tell I was crying. Plus, there were only two stalls and I was the only one in there… Or so I thought.

As I fixed my makeup preparing to go out in the world again, Carl’s father’s girlfriend emerged from the other stall. She and Carl’s father were assigned to the same table as Jerome and I and a couple others; we were the “odd duckling” table.

This woman unexpectedly hugged me, and held me tight in a warm embrace. Had she heard me in the stall? I didn’t know. But there was a special kind of woman’s intuition going on that suggested she knew everything.

“The relationship you have with your husband,” she stared at me in the eyes, “is one of the most special kinds of relationships I have ever seen. I wish I had that.”

She was right. I was able to drag myself back to my chair and the dance floor, composed.

The speeches droned on.

Then…there was the newly married couple’s first dance.

I had to witness Carl dancing with his new wife. Carl had danced with me, too, in another time and place, so I knew what it was like to be on the other side of that. I knew what his body felt like against mine.

Suddenly, I must have been in deep meditation because my spirit seemed to float out of my body. I found that place inside of me where I was not jealous, simply supportive of my friend/lover’s choices. If he wanted to marry someone else, that was his choice and I would continue to support the best I could.

My spirit-self had blue wings. I saw that Carl needed support in a way where he was looking for guidance and a true spiritual connection with another (and he chose me). We are connected spirit to spirit, we understand one another, yet he’s always seen me as a confidante and bystander of sorts, needing to approve and witness his life. He needed a friend.

My blue wings sent a healing energy to both of us. For a moment I saw us both in our true forms: our spirit selves stood on a higher plane, witnessing. We were all in the right place. While my husband and I held hands something inside me said, “Love them both.”

As the night went on I danced with Carl’s new wife, who doesn’t really give me a second thought. It was good to know we could be in the same place.

Even Jerome was dancing. He wasn’t getting quietly drunk, which meant I could possibly have a good time with him later that night. (He would later continue drinking at the hotel without me until he passed out.)

There was a slow moment where Carl’s best man Antonio and I ended up sitting together alone at the same table, observing the guests. There was actually fun music happening and I was having a pretty good time. It was getting into the night, waitresses were starting to clear tables, stray drinks and cake plates were being softly distributed, the lights were dim, Jerome had gone to the bathroom.

“Marie, about you and Carl…” Antonio looked me squarely in the eye and began, then proceeded to say two things to me that brought me peace. So he did know for sure. Clearly he was in support of his friend as he was the best man, but he also cared about me.

From that moment onward I felt respected.

By the end of the night I almost forgot I was at Carl’s wedding. I danced with his sister, my husband, our friends. I didn’t get drunk; it was pretty vanilla compared to the weddings I was used to. But if it wasn’t for my husband, Antonio, and Carl’s father’s girlfriend, I would have been seriously sick.

— MDR