We all know about the women in movies, books, or in real life who hook up with married men. Then in the end these ladies expect the man to leave their wives and start a new life with their former mistress. And I am pretty sure we all can agree, that while viewing their situations as an outsider, we all come to one conclusion, that the home wrecking mistress is in fact, stupid. However, what if you were the women on the inside of that situation? What if you were the mistress? I know many of you probably just subconsciously thought, “I would never be”, and I thought that too, at least I used to, until I met Andrew. Now I am the women on the other side of the stick. Let me rewind though, about three months and fill you in, then maybe, just maybe, you won’t think I am the stupid home wrecking mistress you probably think I am right now.
When I moved to Connecticut, I thought it would be a good fresh start. I had a lot of money saved up and a good job lined up. That was until I got here however, and soon realized I would never actually have the right amount of money I needed and my plan was quite faulty. Come September I would be starting at a local elementary school, officially beginning my career as a kindergarten teacher. All I had to do was spend my money wisely until September and I could last without having to pick up a second job until then. My plan seemed foolproof. At least it did until I moved in and accidentally bumped a piece of furniture into the wall and created a mini-ish hole. Extra cash I didn’t account for, down the drain. Then everything started to seem to go downhill, especially my bank account. A week after the move, the kitchen sink faucet broke. And shortly after that my dog needed surgery on her leg. Suddenly many boxes of wine seemed necessary, and before I knew it, my finances were at an all-time low and I needed to do something about it. That’s when I came across a small Greek deli that was newly opened up the road from my house. I had wandered in a few times when walking Daisy, my golden retriever, to grab a cup of coffee. I introduced myself to the lady working there eventually, once my morning coffees there started to become a ritual. I shortly learned that Maureen owned the café with her husband, Emmett. They too were new to town and opened the café only two months before I moved into my house. I quickly befriended Maureen, and while Emmett manned the café on not so busy mornings, she started to join me and Daisy for our morning walks. I am not one to complain about my situation but after mentioning the tight money and barely making it through the summer, Maureen had offered me a job. I was delighted to take it and couldn’t thank her enough. And so from July to September I was now working the cash register at a local café with my only two friends in town. I never expected to fall in love because of the job. And I definitely never expected it to be with a married man. But that is what happened.