We all have a certain word spring to mind when a friend tells us she’s giving her unfaithful lover a second chance: Mug.
I’ll admit I’ve been quick to use the label in the past, subconsciously passing judgement on others while claiming that I would never stay in a relationship with someone who cheated on me. Ever.
Yet here I am, two months into my second relationship with a boy who shattered my heart into a thousand pieces, after embarking on a path of infidelity and leaving me for someone else.
You know how the story goes, right?
The break up was amicable to begin with – I had no idea he had cheated. We agreed to go our separate ways and experience more of the single life while we were young. He wanted to go travelling with his friends, something which I had also planned to do before we met, and I understood this wasn’t an aspiration he was ready to let go of.
Don’t get me wrong, the break up was still absolutely devastating for me. I was obsessed with this boy, convinced he was the love of my life, and I was pinning all my hopes on one day getting back with him – after we’d both had some time to do our own thing.
My heartbroken self couldn’t have known that he would do a U-turn within the space of a few months and decide that he was ready to commit to me – but only after a gut-wrenching plot twist.
Three months after our break up, sat on a rickety park bench in Leeds, he declared his renewed desire for me to be his girlfriend again, along with the soul-crushing truth. Throughout our relationship – nearing 18 months – he’d been in touch with an ex-lover and they had planned to break up with their respective partners so that they could be together.
It had taken three months of trying to make it work with this girl for him to realise that she wasn’t the one for him, and actually, the only future he wanted was one with me in it.
Everything else – travelling with friends, hooking up with old flames – didn’t interest him anymore.
As he started his confession, my stomach dropped horribly and I moved from numb disbelief to exploding with questions.
Who instigated their conversations? For how long had he been planning to be with her? And, seriously, why did he not tell me the truth?
The hardest part of all of this was that I did not see it coming. At all. It never once crossed my mind when we were breaking up that there might be someone else in the picture. It’s not a thought I would have ever entertained, because the boy I loved wouldn’t do that to me. Or so I thought.
Finding out this wasn’t true meant I had to come to process a sense of betrayal so strong I was unsure if I’d ever trust anyone again. Ironically, him telling me he wanted to be with me again had been everything I wanted to hear, but any happiness I might have felt was obscured by shock. And pain.
I felt foolish telling family and friends what had happened because up until that point I’d sworn that our love for each other was strong and it just wasn’t the right time for us.
Once they knew the truth, they were quick to tell me how unforgivable his behaviour had been, echoing similar sentiments to my flatmate who said simply: ‘He needs to get in the f**king bin’.
At this point I was happy to agree with them about what a piece of s**t he was.
I even told the whole sorry story to a couple of strangers I met in the pub, who spent the rest of the night telling me why I definitely shouldn’t give him the second chance he was asking for, and paying for all my drinks (not my intention, promise).
And yet, there was still a part of me that couldn’t let him go. A future with him didn’t seem possible, but neither did severing the ties between us. The latter option was certainly what he deserved, and would potentially save me from further heartbreak down the line, either when the trust between us proved too broken to rebuild, or if another opportunity for disloyalty came along and he took it.
The people around me were unanimous in their opinions, and I knew that taking him back would result in judgement and disapproval. And most likely, to my face or otherwise, the infamous mug label.
Pro-feminist narratives around female independence can unintentionally contribute to the judgement women receive if they choose to stay with a partner who has been unfaithful to them.
Well-meaning encouragement to be strong, independent women can pressurise us to make decisions that align with these values, and demonstrate solidarity with fellow mistreated women.
For me, it felt like I had to choose between being celebrated by those around me as a feminist icon who wouldn’t accept disrespect, versus giving myself another chance at happiness with the person I loved.
Because that’s what I felt when we were together: happiness. Being in his company made me feel blissfully content, and I knew in my heart that we had something special.
It was another four months until I decided to give our relationship another chance. Those four months were filled with painstaking conversations where I raked over every detail of what happened.
I had to make sure that I understood his whole thought process before, during and after he cheated on me. After a lot of late night phone calls, unashamed crying in public, and elaborate expressions of how he’d made me feel, I started to see how genuinely sorry he was.
I was afraid to tell family and friends that I was getting back with him after being so open about his dickish behaviour. Some of them spoke honestly of their doubts and said I’d be better off without him. Others made clear their support for me and expressed relief that I’d made a decision. Others didn’t really say much at all.
Since following my gut and agreeing to take him back, I’ve realised exactly where my true power lies.
It takes a lot of courage to make a decision you know probably won’t be well received by those around you, especially one that risks further humiliation down the line.
Would it have felt good to walk away from him, knowing that I deserve better and could survive on my own until better came along? Sure.
Has it felt good to trust my instincts and let my heart guide me out of a bleak and desperately confusing time? Absolutely.
There is strength in vulnerability, and I’ve found a new level of confidence from prioritising my own happiness above the opinions of others.
This isn’t to say that I think we should lower our romantic expectations and just accept disloyalty from a partner. But maybe we can pause for thought before we judge those who forgive their lovers and take a chance on their relationship.
Are they just being muggy? Or are they actually quite brave for choosing to be vulnerable again after being hurt?
Since getting back together, me and my no longer ex-boyfriend have proved to ourselves – and others – how much we love each other. I don’t yet know what the future holds, but I’m pretty certain he’ll be in it.
I’ve felt stronger since taking him back than the whole time I kept him stubbornly at arm’s length. It turns out being an independent woman can mean something entirely different to what I once thought.
The Truth Is…
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