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I hadn’t seen my good friend Tina in several months.

Tina and I have known each other for twenty-odd years. We both entered our industry at the same time in our early 20s and have remained good friends throughout the years.

I gave Tina a call and asked her if she’d like to meet me in the city for lunch.

I needed to talk to her about ‘things’.

Tina had divorced her first husband after a relatively short period of marriage. She was now married to a great guy with two young children about the same age as mine. Our families often did things together.

The next day, I met Tina at a café near my work and had a pretty delicious meal.

But it wasn’t the right time or place to discuss the ins and outs of divorce.

I only had an hour for lunch and it flew by.

I told her I had something I wanted to ask her about and I’d text her.

Later that afternoon, I sent her a message saying that I was separating from my husband and that I needed her help and advice, as she had previously gone through the same thing.

“I can’t help you,” she said.

Huh?

“Last year I cheated on my husband and I’m doing whatever I can to hold this marriage together. I’m not in the frame of mind to help you with separating from your husband.”

It was like she had slapped me in the face.

And she was a cheater!

Well, ain’t that karma for you? Just after I began this blog, a mistress left a frivolous comment and I blasted her.

“Don’t be so sure of yourself,” she wrote. “One day, you’re going to find one of your friends is a cheater, or it may even be you.”

I laughed in her face.

And now, here I was. One of my good friends had cheated on her husband with her boss, a doctor, and she was now the one making all the moves to hold her family together.

She was the equivalent of my husband.

My heart sank.

A friend I had confided in couldn’t help me.

She categorically wouldn’t help me.

Be she would be there for me to talk to and support whatever decision I made.

Grand.

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