Bitch. Skank. Homewrecker. Whore.
It’s hard out there for a mistress.
At first, it’s fun to pore over the salacious details of love triangles, whether in popular culture or our real lives. Wondering whether all men stray, contemplating whether a woman should take a cheater back; all strangely entertaining conversation topics for us ladies. Besides, picking apart the “other woman” in order to confirm the myriad ways the wife is better offers gals both solidarity and a false sense of security.
Because the truth is, the mistress of Sandra Bullock’s old man, Michelle “Bombshell” McGee, and her counterparts in the real world scare the shit out of us.
Knowing there are legions of lusty, busty carnivorous ladies whose most desired romantic snack is some other woman’s husband or boyfriend is enough to make even the most poised female shake in her boots. We see her coming from a mile away: the gal who gets her kicks from securing the attention of every male in the room, who relentlessly pursues attached men like a cat preys on mice, who uses her carefully constructed feminine wiles to manipulate some poor sap right out of his pants. These are women without boundaries or a sense of propriety, girls who can’t seem to get their self-worth from anything other than boys.
We know they’re out there and know how hard it must be for a guy to tell them, “no thanks, I’m good.”
My Big Ex was tempted by a Bombshell McGee. She was a hair-flipping, mini-skirt-wearing giggle monster who worked at his company. Although the gal had a limited range of interests and considered TV Guide heavy reading, she was the wet dream of all the men in the office. But Giggles only had eyes for my guy. If he gave in, I knew the fling would mean nothing and he’d regret it. I also knew we’d have a giant mess to clean up. All I could do was stay out of his way and hope he did the right thing.
Still, it was no fun having Giggles talk over me at parties or follow my man around the room. All I wanted was to pull her aside and ask, “Why are you doing this? Do you know how bad this’ll feel when it happens to you? Because believe me, girlfriend, this will happen to you.”
Man, I hate the competition between women. Boy, does it stink. I can’t stand walking alone into a dinner party and watching all the married women put their hands on their husbands’ knees, just as I can’t stand some chick elbowing me out of the way to talk to the guy I’m with at a bar. I was as grossed out by Michelle McGee’s attempt to validate herself by stealing a seemingly nice person’s husband, as I was disappointed by her success.
My other woman “a-ha moment” came in college when I interviewed a local blues musician for a newspaper then got invited to one of his concerts. Dancing at the foot of the stage was his girlfriend Nancy, a fetching groupie with a spectacular body and long, blonde hair she masterfully whipped around with the same jazzy rhythm with which she rocked her hips.
After the show, the musician, Nancy and their posse came over for a chat. It soon became clear the musician had the hots for yours truly and was making an ass of himself in showing it. After several agonizing moments, Nancy walked up to me with watery eyes and said, “Please don’t steal my boyfriend.”
Rumor was Nancy had made her way through a number of local band dudes, most of whom had been left completely annihilated by her mouth-watering charms. And she was threatened by me?
Being the gal a guy wants to screw is flattering, sure, but not something to put much stock into. A man who’s open to betraying his woman may very well want to sleep with you. But “you” could be any pretty, available female (which Jesse James is now proving). We’re all just as apt to be the unbeatable Bombshell as we are the betrayed Bullock.
Weeks back, I read an article written by a girl who said she slept with someone’s husband because she could. The writer felt “powerful” because she had the sexual muscle to sway him. My only hope is that she, Michelle McGee and women like them, think of this notion of “power” when their future husbands come home one day smelling like snatch. And I hope they imagine how much easier life and love would be if we women were nicer to each other.
