I Had Sex With Your Husband and I’m Not Sorry

I saw the wedding ring. I just didn’t care.

Lydia Caradonna


I had sex with your husband on a boring, rainy afternoon. He picked me because of all of the things you’re afraid of: I’m younger than you. I’ll do that thing he’s been too embarrassed to ask you for. And I won’t tell, I’ll never tell, because this Wednesday afternoon adultery has grown so boring to me that feeling guilty enough to track you down is not even a possibility.

Photo by Fred Moon on Unsplash

Usually, we are both polite enough that we do not acknowledge your existence. I will ask him if he is up to much this evening. He will say: “Oh, not really. Probably just have dinner and watch some telly.” You are in the background of this comment, preparing the meal and wishing he would get off his ass and help you with the washing up instead of watching Cops reruns. I will ignore you in the background of this comment, because you are none of my business, and go back to sucking his penis and thinking I see why you hate doing this.

I did not wake up this morning and decide that I would like to ruin your marriage. I do not sit around in bars hoping to lead good men astray. And I do not feel guilty when I have sex with your husband, because it is nothing to do with me, really. He sought me out. He paid me. And if it was not me, it would be the next down-on-her-luck hooker he found.

March 2017 — text message

I know you’ve been fucking my husband. Homewrecking slut

Do you even care that he has children? We have three children. Do you care?

The first time one of the husbands acknowledged his wife, I was filled with incandescent rage. I am, after all, a woman. When he said “I love fucking you. My bitch wife never lets me touch her,” I stopped being professional. I let my limbs flop like a rag doll, I ceased my pornstar vocalisations, I refused to play along. I thought, use me to disrespect your wife, but you will not enjoy it.

Nowadays, I don’t bother. There are two things I can depend on: I need money to live, and men are endless wells of disappointment.

These are two things that I didn’t think most people would need to be reminded of. Of course I am…



Lydia Caradonna

Sex worker, “””journalist””” and activist from the UK! // Tweets at: @LydiaCaradonna // works with: @ukdecrimnow // argues with: the government