Dear Mistress: Here’s My Husband’s Instruction Manual ebook

Dedication

To those who have been cheated on, lied to,

been made to feel like a failure or just generally

been unfortunate like me to meet someone in life

to turns out to be a complete and utter A-hole...

this one is for you.

Introduction

Well then.

If you’re holding this book, congratulations are in order — though not necessarily for you.

You’ve either:

a) recently started seeing my (still) husband and are under the delusion that you’ve “won”,

b) are about to start seeing him and need urgent professional help,

c) are one of those people who just enjoys a good domestic drama from a safe distance, or

d) Amazon sent you the wrong book, in which case — do carry on, it’s probably more useful than whatever self-help nonsense you originally ordered.

Let’s call this what it is:

A comprehensive survival guide, lovingly written by the woman who knows him best — not in the sexy, candlelit, rom-com way, but in the “he leaves toast crumbs in the butter” and “thinks Febreze counts as cleaning” way.

This book contains 12 exquisitely sarcastic letters addressed to you, his mistress (or, as I like to call you, “The Next Project He’ll Abandon Halfway Through”).

Think of this as the instruction manual you never asked for, didn’t read, and are now desperately Googling at 2am whilst wondering if his Wi-Fi password is just “password123”.

It’s not bitterness darling. It’s customer feedback.

I’ve done my time. I’ve read the terms and conditions (he didn’t). I’ve endured every update, reboot, system crash, emotional glitch, and sudden power outage (also known as ‘falling asleep during conversations’).

We said our vows “till death do us part” however his incessant need to seek pleasure outside of our marriage (aka, not be able to keep his dick in his pants) has led him to you and has instead caused the death our marriage. It is done. And now? He’s all yours.

• The snoring,

• The selective hearing,

• The mysterious inability to be able to replace a loo roll.

The list goes on... I hand it to you with both hands — and a bottle of gin (or maybe two).

Inside these pages, you’ll find everything you need to navigate this journey:

• A brief history of poor decision-making.

• Common malfunctions (forgetting anniversaries, breaking the washing machine simply by “looking at it wrong”).

• Tips for handling frequent emotional buffering and software updates that never actually install.

• And of course, fun anecdotes from the front lines of Matrimonial Mayhem.

So, buckle in, love. You’re not just reading a book. You’re accepting a challenge. May your patience be long, your expectations low, and your sense of humour fully charged. Because if you’re going to take my husband... you’d better come prepare.

Letter 1: The Welcome Committee & Operating Manual

Dearest New Management and Incoming Chief Operating Officer,

Congratulations on your hostile takeover! Champagne cork pops in the distance — I do hope you’re ready for the adventure of a lifetime – and by adventure, I mean the sort where you question every life choice you’ve ever made whilst staring at cereal bowls that have been “soaking” in the sink for three days, because apparently Weetabix need to marinate like a fine wine to reach their full flavour potential. Who knew breakfast could be so complex?

I wanted to personally thank you from the bottom of my newly liberated heart for taking over this particular... shall we call it a “fixer-upper”? A “diamond in the rough”? A “complete disaster disguised as a human being”? Let’s go with “unique opportunity for personal growth through intense suffering.”

He’s all yours now, complete with his charming habit of leaving dirty socks exactly three inches away from the laundry basket (and I do mean EXACTLY – I swear he uses a ruler). It’s like some sort of avant-garde art installation: “Sock, Nearly There But Not Quite, Mixed Media on Bedroom Floor.” You’ll also inherit his incredible superhuman ability to hear a beer can being opened from three rooms away, a crisp packet crinkling from the neighbour’s house, his phone buzzing with a message from you at 2 AM, or a football score update from a match played in 1992 – but somehow develops convenient selective deafness the moment you ask him to take the bins out, pick up his pants, or acknowledge that dishes don’t wash themselves, despite his apparent PhD in Kitchen Magic Theory.

You’ll also get his impressive skill of losing his keys whilst they’re literally attached to his belt loop, his gift for using every single glass, mug, and drinking vessel in the house in one day (because apparently rinsing one out requires more energy than launching a space shuttle), and his absolutely uncanny ability to remember every football statistic from 1987, every line from films he saw once in 1995, and the exact batting average of players who retired before you were born — but can’t, for the life of him, recall your anniversary, your birthday, that you had dinner plans, your middle name, or where he put literally anything important five seconds after setting it down.

Oh, and here’s a fun bonus feature that’ll keep you entertained for hours: he genuinely believes that moving dirty laundry from the floor to the armchair counts as “cleaning the bedroom. Honestly, it’s revolutionary thinking and I think even Einstein would be jealous of this groundbreaking approach to physics – apparently, shifting the location of dirt means it’s no longer dirty! You’ll also absolutely LOVE his innovative approach to the weekly food shop, which involves buying seventeen different types of hot sauce, forty-three varieties of crisps, every energy drink known to mankind – but forgetting the actual food we need to put the hot sauce on. You know, things normal humans eat in order to survive. Oh and don’t forget... you’ll be contributing towards this cost-effective food shop because of course “what’s mine is yours”.

Speaking of survival, allow me to prepare you for his unique interpretation of household maintenance. When he says he “cleaned the bathroom,” he means he noticed it was filthy. When he says he “did the washing up,” he means he rinsed one spoon and left it in the sink to “air dry” (indefinitely). When he says he “sorted the laundry,” he means he moved it from the washing machine to the tumble dryer, where it will remain until it develops that signature mildew smell that means you have to wash it all over again. It’s like Groundhog Day, but with more fabric softener and existential dread.

Consider this your official welcome pack, employee handbook, survival guide, and last will and testament all rolled into one beautifully chaotic parcel. Because... what once was my living and breathing nightmare, is now yours,

Letter 2: The Comprehensive Instruction Manual & User Guide

Dearest Successor and Brave New Pioneer,

I hope you’re settling in well to your new role as Chief Everything Officer! Like with every new relationship, new job and new venture there is always that sense of hope, fulfilment and especially with new relationships that “honeymoon period” where everything seems like the stars have aligned and it all feels too good to be true. I thought I’d share some helpful tips and insider knowledge since you’re inheriting... well, let’s call it a “vintage model with character” - and by character, I mean the kind that requires constant maintenance, has mysterious rattling sounds, and occasionally just stops working for no apparent reason.