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Divorce is hard enough... but there's one particularly cruel side effect that nobody warned me about
Watching my son play football one Sunday morning around six weeks after my husband and I had separated, the father of one of his teammates, who was standing next to me, whispered: ‘I can’t speak to you today because my wife’s here and she won’t like it.’
Flabbergasted, I told him I didn’t understand what he meant. ‘She thinks you’ll make a play for me now you’re getting divorced,’ he added, rolling his eyes. I was crestfallen but wouldn’t have dreamed of confronting his wife and causing trouble.
Since my son had joined the team a few years earlier, I’d enjoyed swapping small talk with other adults on the sidelines – mums, dads and grandparents alike – but never had I tried to tempt another man away from his wife or partner, and I wasn’t about to start now I was single. Even so, I got the feeling that this was personal rather than a remark that would have been doled out to any single or newly divorced woman.
For full disclosure, I’m the first to admit that I’ll flirt with everyone be they men, women, your mum, dad, aunt or uncle, the divorcee writes (file photo)
I’m the first to admit that although I certainly wasn’t trying to tempt any of the men I chatted with, I can come across as being flirtatious, this was the first time anyone had given the merest hint that now I was single I was being judged as a threat.
However, the husband of one of the school mums did come on to me once having misread my tactility. I made it extremely clear that touching his arm during conversation did not constitute an advance on my part.
In fact, I thought hard about whether I should tell his wife, but concluded it would be best not to. Would she have believed me anyway?
Sadly, being labelled as a scarlet woman didn’t end there. As I tried to come to terms with divorce and piece together a new life alone with three kids aged under nine, I noticed I was no longer being invited to events and dinner parties with the circle of married friends my husband and I had belonged to when we were together. This despite the fact that many of them had been [itals] my [itals] friends originally.
I did try keeping in touch with those friends, but the replies were frosty and made me feel excluded.
Even those who knew me best took exception to the new me, the one with an ex husband and no wedding ring. Fundamentally, I don’t think I’d changed, but perhaps I came across as happier and more confident because I was no longer in a loveless marriage.
On a much-needed night out with close friends in a village pub not long after divorce proceedings began in 2014, one of my friends, let’s call her Laura, asked if we could pop outside for a chat. Slightly perplexed, I followed her to the pub’s garden where she asked me: ‘Why are you all over Emma’s new boyfriend Nick?’ adding that she’d noticed me laughing with him and touching his arm as we chatted.
Emma has been my lifelong best friend since we met at primary school almost 40 years ago and we’ve been through everything together, so I was stunned at Laura’s accusation.
‘Oh, come on, Laura, you know me well, I’m just friendly with everyone,’ was my riposte, though inside I was broken and when my tears started to fall I couldn’t stop crying. Emma’s parents and siblings were in the pub with us that night too as our families have been close for decades, so it was only right that I was going to forge a bond with her partner.
Too upset to rejoin them all in the pub, I went home. The following day I called Emma and told her what Laura had said to me. ‘I’m sure she didn’t mean it, she should know you would never try to prey on anyone’s man, let alone mine,’ was Emma’s reassuring reply.
She and everyone else who was there who knew me well would have known that I can flirt without any intent. Perhaps a stranger would perceive it differently, I can see that now.
The next time I saw Nick and Emma – who are now married – I felt the need to also divulge to him what Laura had said and that it had upset me terribly because it wasn’t something I’d ever do. He said, simply: ‘We all know that you’re just gregarious and friendly, it sounds like Laura is insecure and is the one with the problem!’
That’s not to say that it’s only insecure women who would notice or be bothered, but perhaps someone who has a reason to feel insecure would be more likely to scrutinise others. If there is trust and security within a relationship then any third party becomes irrelevant.
Sure enough, Laura warned me off her own husband a few weeks later at another gathering of the same group. There was no particular incident, she just grabbed me when I was on my way to the bar and made her feelings known. Perhaps she simply didn’t like me, I’ll never know as I haven’t spoken to her since.
Being dumped and ostracised by friends and acquaintances was a second devastating abandonment that I hadn’t been prepared for after my husband left, ironically at a time when friendship mattered more than ever. In fact, I was distraught. Another school mum got divorced around the same time so we naturally gravitated to one another, as did a few other single friends and I. Platonic male friends and some of my married girlfriends supported me too.
My husband and I had been married for eight years and together for 17 – we met at school – when he moved out a decade ago, leaving me on my own with three kids aged three, five and nine. As you can imagine, I desperately needed my friends and even exchanging idle chit-chat with others, like the dad at the football match, was a distraction from my heartache.
For full disclosure, I’m the first to admit that I’ll flirt with everyone be they men, women, your mum, dad, aunt or uncle. But by flirting, I mean that I’m warm, friendly, fun and confident. But I can see how that ‘flirting’ could be misconstrued by some people although I make no apologies as it’s part of who I am and always done innocently.
Trouble only arose when I became single because people suddenly and inexplicably began to misinterpret my friendliness and love of giving compliments to others about the way they look or something they’ve achieved, for example, as being predatory. Added to which, I have a successful career in real estate and take care of my appearance, always doing my hair and make-up and wearing high heels even on the school run.
I’m the first to admit that although I certainly wasn’t trying to tempt any of the men I chatted with, I can come across as being flirtatious, writes the anonymous divorcee
I do think that many of these women only judged and were wary of me because I make an effort and am considered to be attractive. Nobody cares about a frump who’s let herself go flirting with their husband – I don’t mean that they should ‘pretty themselves up’, but we should all make an effort to look after ourselves. There have been times in my life when I’ve felt sad or glum and have lost interest in my appearance, throwing on jeans, a baggy top and flat shoes and paying little attention to my hair and makeup and eventually I’d start to feel unattractive and even unlovable.
Then a woman comes along who’s confident and well groomed and she chats freely to men and women alike, and you can quickly see this as a threat if you’re not feeling good about yourself.
At the school gates, too, I quickly became a persona non grata, picking up vibes from other mums, many of whom I’d spent years hanging out with at playdates and parties with our kids, and on child-free nights out. Worst of all was the impact on my children, who were excluded from playdates almost overnight.
Those who concluded that I’d suddenly cast myself in the role of temptress were so wide of the mark. In reality, I was so crushed by divorce that male attention of anything other than a platonic nature was the last thing I wanted at the time.
At that particular time, I didn’t miss male company at all. My children and carving out a new life for us were my priorities.
For two years, I wasted so much energy defending myself and trying to convince others that I really wasn’t on the prowl for a married man. Socially, I withdrew and didn’t go out as much, retreating rather than risking yet more people dumping me. A year after my marriage broke up, I saw my GP and was prescribed a course of antidepressants. I also started seeing a therapist to help me get my confidence and self-worth back. It had really knocked me.
Now happily remarried for five years, I’m still the same smiley, outgoing, chatty person I always have been. The difference is that now I’m part of a couple I’m invited to lots of ‘couples’ events but I always make sure I include my single or divorced friends too as I know how much they might rely on that connection.
If I sensed any of them flirting – or appearing to – with my husband I wouldn’t be the slightest bit worried, whether they’re single or not because we have such trust between us. Flirting is, in my opinion, absolutely fine, whereas trying it on with someone is different and unacceptable.
I’m determined never to lose sight again of the fact that I’m a kind, confident, outgoing person who happens to also be warm and tactile. This means that, yes, I might touch your husband’s arm while chatting to him, but it sure as hell doesn’t translate as being a sign that I want to get him into bed – and that would be the same whether I was married or single. I can see now that some women might not stick around to figure out the subtle distinction.
People are free to do as they wish, they are responsible for their own behaviour. It’s definitely their problem and I won’t shrink away socially for anyone again.
- As told to Sadie Nicholas