Too bad it had to happen to my boyfriend and to that slutty bitch.

This is the affair that changed my life. But it wasn’t just about a girlfriend and a boyfriend, and the third party. It was about summer, his birthday, The Mummy Returns, Pearl Harbor and The Corrs’ One Night. Oh, and the itty-bitty fact that my boyfriend and I already have a daughter.

I admit, this is not the first time my boyfriend had adventures with other girls. But they were mostly exes who were still hung up on him, and hey, I have a forgiving heart. And I believed him when he said it was just a kiss. I forgave and forgot.

But this affair will forever be etched in my brain. Summer will always be associated with the affair. April was the last month he faithfully loved me; May was the end of “us”, and the start of “them”. May 1 wasn’t just Edsa Tres, but our last pre-affair sex session. The weekend of my brother’s birthday (May 20) in Fontana was the moment he decided he had to go back to U.P. for their summer class’ last day, so that he can get her number, and so that they can eat out together. The Mummy Returns was the first movie they watched together, swapping saliva, rubbing each other. My boyfriend and I watched The Mummy a year ago while he was rubbing my pregnant belly.

The last days of May will always be sleepless nights for me, wondering what was happening to us, thinking if I’ve gotten too fat over the summer, believing that I’ve become this repulsive whale, while they talked on the phone, whispering to each other sickening sweet nothings, and f*cking each other’s brains out. I miserably spent the last days of summer robbed of sex and romance. I didn’t have a freaking clue that my boyfriend was having the time of his life.

His birthday’s on the first week of June, and I thought he’d come around to his senses by then. But, he scrapped plans to spend time in our house (with our daughter) before our dinner, saying he was in school waiting for a friend’s loan. He arrived just in time for our dinner, aloof and distant. I found out much later that he was with her. And so, his birthday will always be known as “he-chose-her-over-us” day. Happy f*ckin’ birthday, jerk.

And so it went on. How they spent enrolment together, falling in line for a Hum I class so they can be classmates again. They watched Pearl Harbor, when I bailed out on him since I had no yaya for our daughter then. They went to Greenhills to shop for her computer’s parts. He spent time in her house, got introduced to her parents. He was actually proud to say her parents liked him. I wanted to tell him, “if they knew you were f*cking their daughter, while your daughter’s mother was going crazy over you, I don’t think they would’ve let you in their house.” Let alone drive their freaking vintage Mercedes Benz.

And how did he get to do all of these things behind my back? He had the perfect excuse: Counter Strike with his friends. I cursed his friends then. They were well aware of the fact that he already has a daughter! Why did they have to take him along?!? But paranoia was kicking in. An innocent “Kayo pa ba ng boyfriend mo? inquiry from a friend gave me the chills. It was then I confronted him.

True to its soap-opera storyline, my boyfriend tried to repent and asked for my forgiveness. He gave me a purple cellphone case he bought on one of their trips to Greenhills as a peace offering. All hell broke loose, because at first he denied he was with her, plus the fact that he reasoned out, “at least ikaw iniisip ko di ba”. He emphasized that it was just one movie, one kiss, that was it. “Wala lang naman yon eh” Freaking B.S.! Because of my scandalous fits, my mom found out. She forbade him in our house, not even to see our daughter. She threatened to have him banned from the subdivision. My mom wanted me to sever our ties completely. She wanted no crying, no long talks on the phone with my friends about the affair. She wanted me healed and to start anew asap. I was a long way from getting healed; I was still getting beaten up.

What made this the affair to remember was that it took an affair for me to decide to live with him. My mom was getting on my nerves, and even though I hated him, I knew I couldn’t live without him. Never mind that all I knew of the affair then was that it was just a kiss. It was just a freaking kiss, I constantly reminded myself. But I didn’t know then that they had The Corrs’ One Night as their ‘song’. That they were going to be classmates again during first semester. He reassured me of his love, of his repentance, of his renewed loyalty. I fell for it hook, line and sinker. My daughter and I moved in with him by the end of June.

I could go on about all the other things I found out about the affair after I moved in. They still exchanged emails, talked on the phone, flirted with each other during their class. I went out of my mind trying to think of something to get back at him. Before I was able to, I found out the whole truth about the affair two weeks after my daughter and I moved in with him. He told me about the movies, their ‘song’, his birthday fiasco, and f*cking each other. That he wasn’t really with his friends when he said he was. How he said “I love you” to her, but only when she said it first. I wanted to go back to my house, but I couldn’t, out of sheer pride. Out of sheer laziness of packing up all our things again. Out of sheer need for this man who has done nothing for the past two months but beat my heart out.

But I realized how enough was enough for me when I saw them in her car coming from their class. I was already living with him, in his house; I’ve already staked out my territory. I told him to drop out of their class, no more emails, phone calls, texts, rides in her car. “Stop or else you will never see me, or your daughter, ever again.”

And so he stopped.

It’s been two years, and I don’t think I’ll ever be over it. I still cringe whenever I hear One Night. I’ve never watched Pearl Harbor or The Mummy Returns. I try to look away when I see a black Mercedes Benz. I hate seeing her friends, her friends’ cars, their tambayan. I took up smoking again when I learned of the affair, and I’m still smoking now. I constantly check his phone for new numbers, weird texts, missed calls. I should be made aware of his schedule ahead of time, or else I’d get suspicious. Every time we have a fight, I always bring up the affair. It will always be my winning card: “Eh ikaw nga nambababae ka eh”. I realize our relationship is a festering wound waiting to be healed.

It was an affair to remember because I learned so many things about us. We weren’t invincible to slutty girls wearing short-shorts and tank tops. I found out I can channel my anger to his friends and to her, so that I can lie down next to him at night. I learned that I have to make choices, not only for myself, but also for my daughter. I discovered his capacity not to love me, and his incapacity to love me. It has always been my choice to get back together again; he never made the choice on his own. I forced him into it when we moved in, and when I threatened to take away his daughter. I found out how one small kid can make two adults try their damndest to make a relationship work, even though it seems totally beyond repair. I realized it would’ve been hell for me crying over the affair for two years alone in my room, while I can cry my heart out enclosed in his comforting arms at night. Finally, the most important thing I’ve learned is that he will never love me as much I love him. And that I just have to accept that.



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“Only the one who hurts you can comfort you. Only the one who inflicts the pain can take it away”.