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by Michael Drury
I am more like you than you might suppose. A mistress shares a secret with a newly wedded wife: that love is a kind of glorious grief, equidistant from happiness and tears.
I am apt to be more like you than your mother, who long ago determined the shape all love must take, and has forgotten that each day’s choices, even now, have anything to do with it. Nor is she wholly wrong. Love lived from day to day takes on a momentum of its own, but that is not the all of it. If a mistress knows more of romance and a wife more of practicalities, is there not some wholeness implied here worthwhile to explore?
It is not my intention to set wives against mistresses any more than is inherent in their situation, or to try to prove one better than the other. Rather, I would show that they have much in common as women. I write from a long road of years—years of living and dying a little; of humbling and exaltation; of slow coming to know myself and thus other people more completely. That is one advantage a mistress has, simply as a human being, over a wife: She is in the nature of things more exposed to the contrary currents of living. She must master them, or perish; grow all the way up to whatever powers she was born with and ride them as a man rides a surfboard standing up, or drown. She is made to be a realist; that is to say, to realize herself. It is one of the richest blessings life can bestow.
I too was once a wife, and in love, and in earnest—and suddenly was faced with the fact of another woman in my husband’s life. I had been married quite a while and was the mother of one son. What followed was divorce, against my wishes it seemed at first, although the marriage was a shell and I soon realized its termination was the more honorable outcome, and was at peace.
In two years’ time I met a man who was at once a walking image taken from my mind and almost aloof in his self-possession.
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1 cris // Mar 21, 2008 at 6:26 pm
No disagreement, read more slowly, although it would be nice to think people could grow together and continue to love each other… even be sexually faithful. If this was written 50 years ago, marriage was much more “secure” then when people didn’t divorce at the proverbial drop of a hat. Also, back then, it was an economic arrangement for most women. Several factors to consider. Personally, I had a bad role model for marriage. My parents are still together, though they’ve been unhappy for decades. (the catholic thing, I suppose). Because I never knew of a loving marriage growing up, I didn’t marry. Never even considered it in spite of several offers. Well, I did think about it once. Never wanted children either. I’ve been happily independent all my life, but might consider marriage in my old age IF the right person comes along.
2 read more slowly // Mar 20, 2008 at 10:55 pm
It was indeed a difficult piece to comprehend but one that was, nonetheless, comprehendible. I try not to fault a writer for being too wordy, especially when the writer is attempting to communicate something more profound than simple phrases and sentences can communicate. I got the sense that this is what Drury was doing. I don’t think she’s exactly saying that marriage kills love (cris), and just because it was written “50 years ago” (lannie and charlotte) doesn’t make it less relevant today. What she is saying is that marriage doesn’t necessarily have to do with love. Love is about being with someone who allows us or assists us to follow our (other) desires and to more fully develop into whole, independent beings. And love does not require promises of tomorrow; love is not about the future or security but about the present. Marriage, on the other hand, creates a false sense of security that the love one feels today is the same feeling one will feel tomorrow. Again, marriage doesn’t necessarily kill love. It can serve its purpose at particular times in our lives - it helps us grow in the same way our childhood experiences helped us grow. But, we have to recognize that things (feelings, people and thus marriages) change over time, and it is illusory and counter-productive to think otherwise. Some of us may realize that “our” marriage (those who decide to marry) no longer serves us. But when we realize our marriage is “over”, we must be able to recognize ourselves as whole, independent beings - ie, people who take responsibility for our own circumstances, our own choices and our own outcomes. But alas, she laments, people seem to choose marriage (security) over love (less secure but more fulfilling). I think it’s a beautiful piece, and very wise. Thank you.
3 robert // Mar 20, 2008 at 8:28 pm
That was profoundly eloquent but ultimately without any real substance. I was almost convinced that it had been written by a word generator by the time I reached the end. It just seemed to ramble about nothing… like a sentence with no subject.
4 cris // Mar 19, 2008 at 6:53 pm
I agree with several other posts; that writer must have been paid by the word. Rambling, practically incoherent. There was no real point except, apparently, its better to be a mistress than to be married because marriage kills love. That’s certainly true in some cases, but cannot be said for all marriages. This piece could have been reduced to one paragraph. What a waste of space. I forced myself to finish it, but it was a chore. Good Grief!! As for “love guvs”, a love affair with a mistress is not the same as hiring a hooker.
5 Nina // Mar 19, 2008 at 3:18 pm
I don’t care who wrote that, the gender of the author or when it was written- That was ridiculous. My god, who could read the whole book?
Read All 11 Comments on The Other Woman: What A Mistress Knows