Mad Libs for Desperate Times: A Template for Writing to the Mistress

When I found out my husband was having an affair, I automatically went into adult mode. (Believe me, it surprised me more than anyone.) Why? Progeny. Looking into my kids’ eyes through a filter of fresh agony, I knew that I had to keep my shit together.

My first reaction was to cut off all communication temporarily from him, in order to keep my rage in a cage until it dissipated a bit. My second was to write a letter to the woman involved. Of course, I wanted to rant. To scorn. To insult. But to survive in this world, and more importantly, to raise children in this world, I have to believe that most people are good. That they’re genuinely sorry when they fuck up. That if shown the fallout from their mistakes, they will have more concern for their fellow Earth dwellers if presented with a potential next time.

It was important to me to not have anything to apologize for or be ashamed of later. I mean, like brutal name-calling, juvenile withholding of the kids, and any other behavior that might blacken my record. No. Fucking. Way. If I, you, and every other marital refugee remain on the higher road, no one can spit, piss, or shit on us, not now or later.

The morning after I sent the letter, I went back to read it again and would’ve clapped myself on the back if both hands weren’t occupied with annihilating my hastily constructed husband voodoo doll.

I hope to high Jesus that none of you ever need this, but if you do, have at it. Free of charge. But I’m thinking there’s a market for this kind of thing- a crisis form letter consultancy.

Dear <insert That Person We Do Not Mention’s (TPWDNM) name>,

It’s my belief that we are less prone to do hurtful things when the casualty of our actions becomes human. I am <insert name>. <Here, introduce yourself. Tell this person small, intimate things about yourself. Your favorite flower. What you like best about rainy days. How much you adore pole vaulting. Etcetera. Get a little sappy here, even if it’s not your thing normally. Just a little, though. Enough so TPWDNM can get a taste of the sweetness.> I have <#> children, <insert name(s)>. <insert similar details about your kids, despite how much this hurts> I know everyone says this about their own children, but mine is/are exceptionally beautiful.

I met <insert spouse’s name> in <insert year>. When you were <insert your preferred synonym for fornication> my husband, I was <insert the most relevant, honest, guilt trippy thing you were doing, i.e. miscarrying your fourth child, getting your kidney removed, receiving chemo, taking care of his three children, sitting by your dying grandmother’s side, etc.>. Since that day, we have had <insert any important holidays, anniversaries, birthdays, special days since then>, all of which have been rendered meaningless.

To say that you and my husband broke my heart would be a profound understatement. I am utterly shattered, from top to bottom. This morning, life felt normal just for a moment. That moment was imperfect but beautiful, like our life together was. Then my eyes opened, and reality crashed upon my head like a house. One choice has broken a family into pieces. I assume that he’s already told you that I know. Beyond that, though, I am requesting that you permanently give our family space, to either disintegrate or heal.

Kind regards (because even though you’re PISSED LIKE A HONEY BADGER, you still are kind. Remember, stick to the high road here )

<insert your first name>