At 52, I thought I’d experience every trick when it related with husband-stealing drama queens. Boy, was I wrong. My new neighbor, a timely divorced, young yoga Barbie, tried changing my husband into her next accessory. So I taught her why flirting with a married man is always an awful idea.
Three months ago, a moving truck halted next door, and out stepped trouble in stilettos. Her name was Amber. She was 25, blonde, and hot off a divorce that left her with a house she didn’t pay for and an attitude that shouted, “your husband’s next.”
She’d married 73-year-old lonely Mr. Patterson, then abandoned with half his assets when he couldn’t catch up with her “needs.”
“Andy, come look at our new neighbor!” I called my husband.
He said. “Well, she’s… young.”
“She’s trouble.” I crossed my arms. “Mark my words.”
“Debbie, not everyone’s out to get us. Maybe she just wants to fit in.”
“Oh, she wants to fit in alright… right between you and our marriage vows.”
“Deb..?!”
“Just kidding!”
Being the good neighbor I was raised to be, I prepared blueberry muffins and marched over to Amber’s house the next morning.
“Oh my gosh, how sweet!” She said. “You must be Debbie! Andy told me all about you.”
My smile tightened. “Oh, did he? When exactly did you two have time to communicate?”
“Yesterday evening when I was getting my mail. He was watering your roses.” She leaned against the doorframe. “Such a gentleman. You’re so lucky to have a man who looks after things.”
“Yes, he takes very good care of what’s HIS!” I replied.
“Well, if you ever need anything… anything at all… I’m right here!”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Every morning, she’d arrive at her fence just as Andy left for work, waving like she was waving down a rescue helicopter.
“Morning, Andy! Love that shirt on you!”
“Your lawn looks great! You must work out!”
“Could you help me with this heavy box sometime? I’m just so weak!”
“Morning, Amber! Beautiful day, isn’t it?”
She cleaned up, clearly annoyed by my interruption. “Oh, hi Debbie. Yes, it’s wonderful.”
“Andy, honey, don’t forget we have dinner with my mother tonight,” I announced loudly.
“Actually, I was hoping Andy might help me get rid of my couch this weekend,” Amber said. “It’s so heavy, and I don’t know any other strong men around here.”
“I’m sure the moving company has a number you can call,” I replied sweetly.
Andy cleared his throat. “I, uh, better get to work. See you later, honey.”
Amber’s smile bobbled as she watched him drive away. “You’re so protective of him.”
“Thirty years of marriage will do that to a woman!”
***
Amber began jogging past our house every evening, always when Andy was working in the yard.
“This heat is just k*lling me!” she said.
“Andy, you wouldn’t occur to have a cold bottle of water, would you?”
“Here, take mine.”
“You’re such a lifesaver. Literally!”
I appeared on the porch with a garden hose. “Amber, honey, if you’re that hot, I’d be happy to cool you down!”
Two weeks later, Amber played her ace card. It was Friday night, and Andy and I were settling in to watch a movie when someone hammered our door like the house was on fire.
“Who could that be at this hour?”
“Andy! Thank God you’re home!” she gasped.
“I think a pipe burst in my bathroom! There’s water everywhere! I don’t know what to do! Could you be a sweetheart and help me?”
“Of course, let me take my toolbox.”
“I’ll come too,” I said.
“No, honey, you don’t need to—”
“Oh my God! My bathroom is flooding! Hurry, Andy… hurry!”
I followed the soft sound of her voice echoing down the hallway. “It’s back here in the master bathroom,” she said.
Andy followed, toolbox still in hand.
I reached the hallway just in time to see her push the door open and gesture like she was disclosing a magic trick.
And I froze.
Andy’s feet stopped moving. So did his brain.
“AMBER?? What the hell is this?” He said.
Amber smiled. “Surprise!”
Andy blinked and stepped back. “Are you out of your mind? I’m a married man.”
“Andy, wait—”
“Don’t!” He withdrew like she burned him. “This is insane.”
My Andy had passed the idiot test with flying colors. He was loyal… clueless as ever, but loyal.
“Debbie,” he said. “I swear… I had no idea she would do this.”
“I know.”. “But now you understand what I’ve been trying to tell you.”
“She’s been planning this the whole time.”
“Welcome to my world, honey!”
The next week, I put my plan into motion.
A few days earlier, I’d asked our elderly neighbor Lisa if she still had Amber’s number…
While Andy was in the shower one morning, I borrowed the second phone he usually leaves at home and typed out a message that would make Amber’s evening very… interesting.
Andy: “Hey beautiful. It’s Andy. My wife’s out with her book club tonight. Wanna come over around eight? Bring that smile I can’t stop thinking about.
”
Amber: “Ooooh… naughty I thought you’d never ask. I’ll be there. Should I wear that little thing you saw me wearing last time? ”
Andy: “Anything you wish!”
Amber: “Alrightyyyy!! ”
I smiled and set the phone down.
By 7:30, my living room was loaded with the most frightening group of women this side of Oakville. Susan, our retired police officer neighbor, Margaret from the PTA, Linda, who could conduct a military campaign in her sleep, and Carol, who’d raised five boys alone.
“Ladies,” I announced, “tonight we’re going to witness a master class in stupidity.”
At exactly eight o’clock, Amber was comming.
She didn’t knock. She just opened the door like this was her house too, and she was already halfway inside when — CLICK!
“Amber! What a lovely surprise! Please, come in.”
“Deb-Debbie? What are you..? Oh my God..!”
The color drained from her face. “I… I think I made a mistake.”
“Oh, honey,” Susan said, standing up slowly, “you made several mistakes.”
“We’ve all been watching your little performance.”
“The jogging,” Linda continued.
“The fake emergencies,” Carol chimed in.
“The complete lack of respect for a 30-year marriage,” I finished.
What continued wasn’t a battle — it was an education. Fifteen women, each with decades of life experience, took turns explaining to Amber exactly what they thought of her behavior.
“You moved into this neighborhood and immediately began targeting a married man,” Margaret said. “Did you think we wouldn’t spot?”
“Honey, we’ve been watching women like you for years,” Linda shared. “You’re not original!”
Carol leaned forward. “What you are is pathetic. Going after someone else’s husband because you can’t build a life of your own.”
“You want an easy life?” Susan asked. “Get a job. Want a husband? Find a single one. Want respect? Start by showing some.”
The lecture was happening in another 20 minutes.
When we finally let her leave, Amber staggered out looking like she’d been through a hurricane.
“Think she got the message?” Margaret asked.
“If she didn’t, she’s dumber than she looks!” Susan replied.
The next morning, Andy found me in the kitchen making coffee. “How was book club?”
“Educational.” I smiled innocently. “We discussed consequences.”
***
Two days later, a “For Sale” sign was attached on Amber’s lawn. Three weeks after that, she was gone. No goodbye, no dramatic farewell, not even a passive-aggressive batch of cookies.
Two months later, we were gardening when our new neighbors stepped into. The Johnsons — a lovely couple in their 60s with married children who visited every Sunday.
“Much better view,” Andy said.
“Much better everything!” I agreed.
The post My New Neighbor Was Shamelessly Flirting with My Husband — So I Taught Her a Brutal Lesson appeared first on Timeless Life.
