I dated a woman while she was engaged to someone else for 2 years. Here's what I learned about being the lover.

• When I dated a woman who got engaged to someone else, we continued our relationship.

• For two years I chased her approval until I didn't recognize myself anymore.

• I finally realized I deserved better than her and got myself out of the situationship.

Of all the love stories, there was one I never wanted to be part of: an affair, especially if it meant being the other person, the lover.

But for two years I dated a woman who was engaged to another man. I swore I'd never find myself in that type of relationship, but it felt like it just happened. I felt powerless to resist the toxic relationship.

At first I was tempted by the chase. Then I was seeking her validation. I wanted to be chosen. I wanted to be loved.

Over two years I became a version of myself I didn't recognize. But in the end I learned that I deserve so much more.

I felt the thrill of the chase

We met while getting our master's degrees in New York. She was already dating someone, but she promised she was going to break up with him. I felt hopeful; I really thought she would leave him to be with me. Then she told me about her engagement. My heart broke; I felt helpless and betrayed. How could she say yes?

I took a step back and removed her from my life. But things got complicated when I realized she still wanted me. She wasn't exactly clear about what she wanted with me, but she kept on seeing me. It wasn't sex, but we had intimacy; it wasn't dating, but we were together.

Once I realized I was going to be her lover, I decided to go all in. She became this forbidden thing, which made her all the more attractive to me.

She turned into someone I'd always be chasing, and that was thrilling. The chase was more important than the relationship itself.

She became the one with all the power

When I continued my relationship, I agreed to certain terms and conditions. The rules were stricter now that she had a ring. I met her only when she was available. I couldn't message her without her authorization. I had to go at her pace. She was fully in charge. I had very little say in our relationship.

At the beginning, I was OK with that. It felt like a breath of fresh air — something new and exciting. I didn't have to drive the car. All I wanted was to enjoy the ride.

But as we progressed, things changed. I demanded more power and status changes. I needed more attention and time from her. I wanted to hold her hand in public and go on normal dates. I wanted some of what he had. None of that was possible because we were in a lie.

Suddenly I wasn't the sweet, romantic escape she enjoyed anymore. My love messages turned into emotional blackmail. I threatened to tell her fiancé about our relationship.

After two exhausting years of trying to convince her to pick me, I reached a point where I was just there to prove to myself I could win. I'd invested so much energy, time, love, and money that retiring from the race seemed like a bigger mistake than staying in it.

I was trapped between the obsession of finally getting her and the feeling of never winning her over.

I finally learned the importance of self-love

I chose to stay in that awful situation because that was how much I cared about myself back then. I didn't believe I deserved anything else. No matter how many people told me I could do much better, I didn't truly feel it.

I finally realized she didn't consider me special, and that allowed me to accept there was nothing special about her either. It opened my eyes and initiated my path toward becoming a more rational being. I officially ended our situationship after two years.

I'll always be a hopeless romantic, but I now know that love isn't about the thrill of the chase or looking for someone's acceptance. It's about finding peace — first with yourself and then with somebody else.

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