23 09 2008

Recently X has started calling me his mistress. Not often. But every once in a while.

I don’t like the term: Mistress. It sounds dirty and has such negative connotations. But in all reality, that’s sort of what I am. I don’t like the sound of it, and I mostly don’t like the fact that I accept that it’s what I am.

I am his Mistress. He has a girlfriend who he doesn’t intend to really leave. I’m slowly realizing that I don’t think I want a serious boyfriend at this point in my life. We have sex because it suits us. We’re attracted to each other and comfortable around each other and we give each other something we’re lacking. I need affection and attention. I need someone I can open up to and trust. And I’m not sure what X needs. Maybe someone who argues with him and challenges him. And who hugs him and puts up with all his crazy, stupid shit. But that’s just a guess. I’m not really sure. We’re also best friends. And that’s where the Mistress thing bothers me. I’m more than just the woman he cheats on his girlfriend with. Whether he admits it or not, there’s more between us than just friendship or just sex.

I don’t like the word. And I’m probably going to tell him next time he calls me it to stop it. That I don’t like that word. And we’ll probably have a discussion about it. Because it’s what we do.

Come October, I’ll have been his ‘Mistress’ offically for a year now. It’s odd saying that. The longest and most meaningful relationship in my life has been with a man who has a girlfriend. I never would have thought I’d be in this situation a year ago. My drunk, persistant ass never would have imagined where the first kiss would have led us.

A year ago he was just a tall, super cute guy in my dorm who I wanted to find a way to run into. He was just a guy who, when I finally met, was ereily similar to me. He was just a guy who was intially attracted to me because I laughed at his circular logic.

Now he’s my best friend. My lover. My punching bag. My biggest frustration. My biggest comfort. He’s the guy I can tell almost anything to. He’s the guy who reads my mind and says the same thing at the same time as me.

I love him. It’s an odd mixed up kind of love. Where I’m not sure if it’s romantic or platonic or best friend or some odd mix inbetween.

And I’m his Mistress. Still coming to terms with that. Because calling me his Mistress makes me feel like there’s nothing beyond that when I know there is.

I don’t know. I think this quote from one of my favorite comics sums X and I up quite well: We have never made sense untangled.



One response

28 09 2008
Wilhelmina Wang

Funny… I have a similar relationship with one of my best friends and I haven’t really known what to call it. It’s more than friends-with-benefits because I feel sort of like a stand-in girlfriend (his gf lives 10 hours drive away). To other friends I’ve referred to us as ‘having an affair’ and in my head I’ve referred to myself as ‘warming the bed.’ Hm.

Leave a comment