Confessions of a Mistress A Guest Post by Cailey Lyra

Today's Guest Author is my first anonymous post. Cailey (a 28 year old living out west) contacted me via DM on Twitter and asked if she could write an anonymous post - Cailey is a pen name - and I said "We take all kinds here!" So... here we are with Cailey's tale of becoming a mistress and her life thereafter in an open, long distance relationship. She and her partner are living 1,000 miles apart, roughly, working to keep their relationship going.

I don't know Cailey - but I thank her for sharing her story here and I hope you enjoy reading it.

Confessions of a Mistress

A Guest Post by Cailey Lyra

About two years ago, I met my current beau on a casual basis that, in the course of a few months, turned into a beautiful, romantic relationship.

And then I found out he was married...

And only a little while later, I found out he had a child. But by the time all this pieced together, we were in love with each other, and trying to undo that proved difficult. Not only because we were compatible and enjoyed each other’s company beyond simple flesh, though of course we enjoy that too, but because the relationship he was in with his then wife, was already unhappy.

Here’s the full story: 

I did not meet my man in a steamy bar at twilight, wearing a skin-tight cocktail dress or however they do it in the romance dramas. We met on Tumblr, both searching for literary roleplay partners with matching desires. When I say roleplay, I do not mean sexual roleplay. I mean something more akin to Dungeons & Dragons for even more introverted nerds. Our first interactions were strictly platonic, even as we got to know each other better. We decided on an original story topic, we sent each other replies, and we would talk over chatting apps. 

Time passed, and we started to get close. We found that we worked well together, that we both fulfilled something for the other. He admired that I was intelligent, could hold a conversation, kept up with the news, and was creative. I admired that he was sincere and expected sincerity in return, that he prioritized my wits over my frankly underwhelming breasts, that he hid no secrets and encouraged me to be open with him as well. Until finally he confessed that, he was married, had a child that he adored, and it wasn’t working.

I remember asking him, directly, “Am I a homewrecker?” To which he, again, always sincere, said “Yes”. This was difficult for me because, sexually speaking, I am only one step above a prude. Looking outward I am sex positive, I encourage others to have sex, I see no problem with sex work, and I cry pox on any attempts spread shame about our natural desires. But when it comes to my personal sex life, I was nervous and withdrawn. So, the idea that this time, feeling true love and adoration, from a distance, it was something so obscene, was crushing.

I don’t want to encourage the idea of cheating here, by the way. Because he, around this time, was being cheated on as well. The difference between his wife actually had sex with another man. We, living apart from each other, never did. We first met in person after he began proceedings for divorce, and that first weekend was so wonderful. Both of us expected that this would hinder how we felt, that it would be awkward, but it never was. Even when our first attempt at sex was not so exciting because of his jet lag and my general experience lag – we could talk about it openly. Not behind a phone but to each other. It confirmed for us that our feelings weren’t fleeting.

Yet, it still didn’t erase the fact that this relationship was built on a deception. Even to this day, he is afraid to tell people about the relationship because the people in his life knows he’s recently divorced, he has a child, and he has close family who is quite religious. And I still battle with the fact that, I am a mistress. It is not something I ever thought I would be, let alone knowingly. In fact, I remember conversations we had, trying to fall out of love. When I would tell him essentially, I wish he weren’t so wonderful, that I could discover something that made me not love him anymore, because then this would be easier. But it never happened. Because he was already unhappy, and I added some happiness, and I may not have been the final straw that ended that marriage, but I was there. I influenced it whether I, or he, know exactly how.

What I’ve come to terms with is not that the deception was okay, but that it didn’t have to be a deception. My boyfriend has a lenient view on sex – he is not monogamous but he generally respects his partner's wishes. He had approached his wife and asked if she’d like to go to a swinger’s club. She complied but then blamed him for her discomfort. He suggested they might do better if they see others, but he wanted it to be honest. To be able to tell each other about their partners outside of union. She refused, then later had her own affair with another man.

Infidelity, depending on how you categorize it, is committed by about 25% of men and 14% of women on average, in one lifetime. I say depending because to some people, this only includes extramarital sex, while to others it can include flirty texts. There are entire markets dedicated to encouraging cheating, and entire markets dedicated to catching your partner in the act. And despite some deviance from this, we as a society still universally value not only monogamy, but all the ceremony and symbols that go along with it. And we lavish in the drama and controversy of infidelity. Despite this, humanity as a species began as polygamous.

It’s out of the question now. Not that it’s out of the question to have extramarital affairs, or to dream about others in your bed. But you don’t dare talk about it. You don’t dare do, as my boyfriend did, suggest it as normal. As something which can be discussed between a loving couple. We do it in secret, and that is what makes cheating this relationship ending drama. Because we don’t want our partners to lie about something so intimate, but we also don’t want them to tell us.

I would love to happily tell people my boyfriend and I have an open, polyamorous relationship. We both go on casual dates, neither of us will reject a potential sexual partner, and we still discuss the possibility of visiting a swinger’s club or dating another couple together, when we visit each other. There is no secrecy in this. If I go on a date, he is eager to hear that I had a good time. If he has sex with another woman, I ask him how it went and demand to know that she was up to his standards. We have policies between us. He knows I would rather he wear a condom with other partners, so we can both be safe. We know to not keep it a secret, above all, and to not go to people who want more than a one-night fling. 

And there is no jealousy, there is no dishonesty. If anything, this feels healthier and more natural than any other relationship I’ve had. It’s opened us up to the point that, even if our romantic relationship faded, we would still be close, because of how much we have nurtured this honesty.

Again, this isn’t an endorsement of cheating. You should never go behind your partners back, especially for extramarital sex. Not only because of the lies and secrets you must now keep from them, but because it can be unsafe. My partner and I suspect, after I was diagnosed with benign HPV, that his wife had gotten it from her extramarital partner, passed to him, then passed to me. This is not an endorsement of even innocent romances like what my boyfriend and I had because, again, it is still a lie.

Monogamy and “faithfulness” are treated as the most important components of romance, but they shouldn’t be. For many, they’re unattainable. The definitions are not as precise as people might pretend – ranging from explicit sex to simply interacting with other human beings. It doesn’t create an environment of exclusive love. That is something you must earn, work for, and fight for, from the moment a relationship begins to when it ends, no matter what mechanic ends it. Simply deciding that you will both have no romantic feeling for any other will not create it. And most importantly, we so often end it there. We decide that is the foundation and nothing else needs to be done.

But love is hard work. Love is painful and messy and dirty and the last thing it needs is arbitrary boundaries deciding how to make it work. The one thing a relationship needs, more than anything, is honesty. Two people who love each other need to be able to tell each other truths, truths they might not ever tell their family or friends or strangers on the street. That doesn’t mean you tell them everything. We all still have things we keep for ourselves. But it shouldn’t be out of fear. A relationship where partners don’t have to fear telling their wrongs, their secrets, that is what will do best in the long run. That is what will harbor a relationship that can last, even if the sexual desire fades away, even if the romance dwindles as is psychologically expected, there will still be two people who care about each other.

Our relationship lasts. Despite the physical distance that separates us. Despite our differences in family goals. Despite knowing that it will be a while before his family can know me the way mine is able to know him. Because we hold nothing back, because we aren’t jealous, because there is no secret I am afraid to tell him. The best advice a struggling couple can take is to break down those walls that people have put up for you, and decide for yourself what will help you lead not the most faithful relationship, but the most honest one.

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