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A month ago I ended a difficult, five-year relationship with a married man. I loved him through all the torment of "I want out of my marriage/I want to make my marriage work." I loved him through "I love my step-kids/I can't stand my step-kids," all the while dreaming of the day when we would be together and all the ugliness would be behind us. But, it was never behind us. Everything we fought about was influenced by everything that was wrong with his marriage. He had confused the meaning of compromise with the meaning of capitulation and refused to even discuss reasonable solutions to our sticking points. He professed to love me but treated me with the same casual disregard you would treat a roommate you didn't know or like very well. So, I ended it. I didn't grow a spine or regain my pride; I'd thrown them both away years ago so I could be with him. No, what I found again was my voice.

Now, a month after ending it, I've seen him once and that was enough to convince me I'd done the right thing. I've rediscovered the joy of living for myself again. I don't wait by the phone, putting off doing things, in the vain hope that he'll find a way to sneak away for a few stolen hours with me. I don't go to be every night wondering what he's doing, if he's enjoying his time with his wife, or if he's lying awake, thinking of me. I don't care anymore if he's miserable or happy. I care if I'm happy. And, most of the time, I am. I don't have to answer to him if I decide to go out to dinner with a friend instead of being at his beck and call. I don't have to justify staying up late or going to bed early to anyone.

Oh, I still miss him from time to time. The nights get lonely and not even my sweet dogs can fill that loneliness. I miss his arms around me and his voice in my ear. I miss having someone to tell my day's events to, also. And it's daunting to go to a movie or out to dinner by myself but I'm getting through it.

I think that's the biggest lesson I've learned in the last month: I'll get through it. I spent years thinking that my happiness depended on his whims and I'm discovering that my happiness depends on me, again. I'm also rediscovering that spine and pride I threw away. I'll never make the same mistake I made with him again.

Ladies, let this be a warning to you: don't fall in love with a man who doesn't like his mother. He'll hurt you in a blind, idiotic effort to get back at his mother for all the injuries he thinks she did him. Don't fall in love with a man who admits to have been a "boy-tramp" and flirt with pride. He'll never reform and you'll end up with a bruised ego every time you turn around. Don't fall in love with a man who is still in love with his first (or second) wife because you'll never get the full measure of his regard, no matter what you do. And don't let love silence you. You'll regret all the times you 'let it pass,' especially when it keeps coming up again and again, year after year. "IT" will become a mountain that you can't get over.

These are the lessons I've learned by falling in love with the wrong "Mr. Right." So, I'll learn to live with the loneliness if it means that I don't have to live without my spine, my pride, and my voice.

Learn more about this author, Angelina Brown.
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