Wives and Mistresses

by Simone Westfall — April 19, 2007

A couple of brief digressions here.

Digression Number 1: I want to say something about husband stealers. I know this category of women exist, but I've been acquainted with only one who may or may not fit the bill. She is a charming woman, a third-rate sculptor who has to be applauded for her conscientious efforts even if she is not much good (she makes the kind of work the critic Robert Hughes once referred to as "plaza turds"). Now in her 60s, she is still a glamorous blue-eyed blonde with a stunning smile and a voluptuous figure. She is also filthy rich.

As best I can piece together the story, Susannah met her first husband, a married investment banker, when she was a journalist in her twenties and he was touring his private collection of Rodin bronzes in Europe. She interviewed him for a local newspaper. He and Susannah, who is Hungarian by birth, soon became an item. Did she lure him away from his mate? The conclusion seems almost inescapable. As she herself puts it, "I was raised to be a femme fatale, and I have been a very successful one." When he died about a decade ago, he left her a fortune. She is now remarried to another very wealthy man because the rich generally marry other rich people.

And of course we all know about Angelina Jolie.

Do I fit this category of womanhood? I honestly don't know. I haven't become fond enough of any of the men I've met to want to take one on as a full-time partner.

Digression Number 2: I once had a friend named Harriet, a delightful neighbor when I was a more-or-less happily married woman in Brooklyn years ago. Harriet was a true housewife of the old school: she raised three kids and took excellent care of her charming husband--carted his clothes to and from the dry cleaner, always made sure he had a hot meal (even on nights when he was late or she would not be at home), and obligingly laughed when he told the same cute family stories over and over. For a time my husband and I were great couples friends with the two of them, and Harriet and I were close in spite of a 15-year age gap between us.

We used to joke that it would be far preferable to be a mistress than a wife. You got all of the perks with none of the grunge work. And then one day Harriet found a pair of sapphire earrings for pierced ears in her husband's coat pocket. Harriet does not have pierced ears. She was divorced not too long after that, and we lost touch. Presumably her husband stayed with the mistress, and I've often wondered if she is now happy with the wife role or if Harriet's ex now takes care of his own dry cleaning.

The moral? I'm not sure there is one. It's an imperfect world. The flesh is weak. Or most likely, What fools we mortals be.

Simone Westfall is the pen name of a novelist and critic in New York City. To read all of Simone's posts in The Dating Life, click here.