It's Not Me You're After

By Crystal Thomson

There’s a certain kind of message I’ve come to recognize almost instantly.

It starts out casual — friendly, even. A little check-in, a compliment disguised as curiosity.
But then it shifts. It always does.

Suddenly I’m in a conversation I never asked for — with a man who has a partner. A wife. A girlfriend. A fiancée. A family.

The most recent one asked me out for drinks.
My gut told me to look deeper — but I didn’t really have to, because it was all right there on his social media.
Married.
Twenty-five years. Kids. Grandkids. Just days before he messaged me, there were photos of them on vacation — smiling, relaxed, arms around each other with their children and grandchildren.
They seemed so happy.

And maybe that’s what hit the hardest.
Because it wasn’t just some broken marriage behind closed doors — it was a man living two very different lives in full view of the world.
And expecting me to play along like it didn’t matter.

I called him out.

And without flinching, he said:

“Yeah, I’m happily married. I’m just looking for a friend… with benefits. My wife knows. She doesn’t care.”
“She won’t be involved.”
“It’s better than divorce.”

Those lines stayed with me.

Because what I think he meant was:

“It’s easier to keep things quiet than face the truth.”
“It’s easier to go behind her back than to build the courage to be honest.”
“It’s easier to look elsewhere than to ask what might need healing at home.”

Then came the final twist:

“My sex drive is bad.”
Which I assume meant “too strong” — not “lacking.”
As if that explained the whole situation.
As if I should hear that and think, “Oh, that makes sense now.”

Another man told me I seemed “exotic and fun.”
Like I was a vacation from his wife.
Like I should feel flattered to be his little detour- and I’d be lying if I didn’t feel just a little bit flattered. I am human after all.

And the explanations? They’re just as varied.

One man said he and his girlfriend were “on and off,” and he wanted out — but she wouldn’t let go. He painted himself as trapped, helpless, misunderstood.
And then — in the very next breath — he talked about wifing me up.
He told me he adored everything about me. That he could see himself moving me in.
He laid out a whole imaginary life with me, as if I was a fresh start he could claim without ever closing the door behind him.

It was all fantasy — built on top of a reality he refused to actually deal with.

Another explained that his wife was “too controlling,” especially when it came to sex. He said:

“She sets all these rules. Only at night. Lights off. No spontaneity. No passion.”

And then he added, “I don’t believe we’re meant to be with just one person.”

As if that idea somehow justified everything.

Married. Engaged. “Separated.” Open relationships their partners may or may not know about.
Over and over, men approach me with situations full of blurred lines and unmet needs — assuming I’ll be the solution. Assuming I’ll say yes. Assuming I’ll stay quiet.

But it’s not something I invite- at least not knowingly and not with intention.

It’s not because I flirt too much, or dress too openly, or “give the wrong impression.”
It’s because something about me — maybe my calm, my compassion, my presence — makes them think I’ll let them cross a line without consequence.

And that’s what I’ve started trying to understand.

So lately, I’ve begun to ask — not out of interest or judgment, but genuine curiosity:

“This isn’t something I seek out, so I’m curious — why me?
It’s not the first time someone’s approached me like this, and I’m honestly trying to understand what signals you saw that made you think I’d go for it.”

Sometimes they get quiet.
Sometimes they try to backpedal.
Sometimes they say: “You seem safe. Cool. Not like other women. Not the type to make it a big deal.”

But here’s what they don’t understand:
It’s not that I don’t want to be part of something real — I do. But this is only a distraction. A detour.
an escape from reality at the cost of someone else’s trust.
I want to be wanted fully — not as an escape from responsibility, but as a choice made in truth. It’s that I refuse to build anything on a foundation of betrayal.
I won’t be the beginning of someone else’s ending.
I won’t let connection come at the cost of another woman’s pain — or my own integrity.

I’ve worked hard to become the woman I am now — and she doesn’t confuse attention with affection.
She doesn’t play side character in someone else’s unresolved story.
She doesn’t soften her standards because someone else is feeling restless.

Understanding the Pattern

I reached out to someone who’s spent years helping men navigate the internal terrain behind these choices — Sven Masterson, author of From Milk to Mastery. His insight opened a deeper layer:

"At the core, I believe these men aren’t seeking ‘sex’ or ‘connection’ in the ways they think they are. What they’re really chasing is relief... mostly from the emotional pressure, disconnection, and shame they feel in their committed relationship but don’t know how to name or navigate... They’re trying to borrow from your self-possession what they lack in their own. You become a mirror of the man they wish they could be — unburdened, powerful, whole."

Sven calls this a false refuge. They’re not choosing the “other woman.” They’re running from themselves.

He later added:

"Most men who believe they have a high sex drive or a high libido, in reality, have a high drive for validation and affirmation, and they've got a belief system that equates sexual attention and performance to their self-worth. So when they feel low, they seek sex. When they don’t get sex, they’re unhappy, edgy, mopey, and disgruntled. Then their partner folds, and they're fine again for a few days before the cycle repeats... They see sex as something to get, rather than a gift to give. It’s a great way to tank a relationship."

So what’s driving these men to cross lines and seek out women like me? Here’s what’s often underneath:

They want to feel desired — without doing the work to be desirable.
They’re not looking to earn love — they’re hoping to extract admiration without vulnerability. You become the “fix” not because you’re broken, but because you’re warm, emotionally present, and safe.

They’re playing fantasy games — and you’re the imagined escape.
When a man talks about “wifing you up” while still entangled, he’s skipping accountability. You’re not the exception. You’re the placeholder for a version of himself he’s not brave enough to become.

Some men crave risk and resentment more than resolution.
For some, cheating is a pressure valve. It lets them avoid confrontation while convincing themselves they’re still “good men.” But it’s cowardice disguised as compromise.

They see you as emotionally intelligent — and they weaponize that.
You’re chosen because you’re kind, calm, and seem unlikely to create drama. But that calm is exploited. You’re not seen as a woman — you’re seen as a safe container for bad behavior.

They’re avoiding their own mirror.
Men who engage in these patterns are often disconnected from their own pain. They use your presence to feel whole — not because you complete them, but because you help them forget how fragmented they really feel.

As therapist and author Dr. Alexandra Solomon puts it:

“Intimacy isn’t about proximity; it’s about vulnerability.”

Many men, she notes, “long for emotional closeness, but fear what it will cost them — namely, their sense of control.”

And as renowned couples therapist Terry Real says:

“Most men are trained to perform, not connect. They’ve never been taught how to tolerate the discomfort of emotional exposure, so they chase comfort instead — even if it costs them everything.”

Which brings us to the partner — the one left in the dark.

I've been her too.
I’ve felt the gut-punch of knowing someone you love chose secrecy over honesty.
And I’ve stayed — trying to forgive, trying to understand, trying to rebuild.

So I say this with full awareness:
If you're the woman on the receiving end of betrayal — you didn't cause it, and you didn’t deserve it. But you can reclaim your clarity.
And if you’re the woman being approached to join in — your boundaries are a gift to both women. Including yourself.

Should You Tell Her?

This is one of the most conflicted questions women face in this situation:
“Do I keep the secret, or do I tell?”

Sven offered this:

“There’s a difference between holding someone’s confidence and becoming a co-keeper of their secrets. If a man is inviting you into his darkness, you’re allowed to walk away. You’re allowed to say: I won’t help you hide.”

He emphasized that if you feel uncomfortable, you can ask directly: “What are you hoping to get from this?”
This one question often causes the fantasy to collapse — because the man is forced to look at his own motives.

Sven adds, “I live by the golden rule. If I were the partner, would I want to know? If yes — I act accordingly.”

Final Thoughts

Not every man who flirts is a monster. Many are simply hurting, lost, or unskilled in emotional maturity. But that doesn’t make the behavior okay. And it certainly doesn’t make it your responsibility to manage.

So if you find yourself being pulled into someone else’s shadow work, remember this:

You don’t have to explain your boundaries.
You don’t have to carry the weight of their marriage.
And you don’t have to play small to avoid their discomfort.

Pick your integrity.
Pick your peace.
And if a man ever asks you to choose him while he’s still with someone else —

Tell him: Pick your wife. Pick healing. Pick growth. But don’t ask me to carry your avoidance.

And if you’re a man reading this who sees himself in any of these stories — I don’t bring this up to shame you. I bring it up because I believe in your capacity to do better. There is another way — a braver way. And if you’re willing to explore it, I highly recommend the work of Sven Masterson. His insights aren’t about quick fixes — they’re about true transformation. You can find more at svenmasterson.com.

Sources & Further Reading:

• Sven Masterson, From Milk to Mastery — svenmasterson.com

• Dr. Alexandra Solomon, Loving Bravely

• Terry Real, The New Rules of Marriage

• Esther Perel, The State of Affairs: Rethinking Infidelity