I was dating a girl who lived about 40 minutes away and we had been having some problems—little arguments, nothing out of the ordinary. But one morning I woke up, sat bolt upright and I just KNEW she was cheating on me. It was like some weird silent alarm. “Somewhere, another man has trespassed on the cootch that I own!”
To this day, I’ll never be able to explain that one moment of clarity or psychic enlightenment. Maybe it was a bunch of clues I’d picked up subconsciously—or maybe I should start playing the lottery. Whatever the case, the jig was up.
Even at my jealous worst, I wasn’t that bad. I called her up and asked her what she had done the night before, if there was anything she wanted to tell me, or how she thought our relationship was going. She denied everything.
Little did she know that I had inside sources, mutual acquaintances, and that she had the mental quickness of a bag of rocks. Great ass, great at arguing, but no brains behind it. I started asking what she did nights and who with, then matching them up to my sources. She failed every time this kid “Andy” she knew was involved.
That was pretty much enough for me, but the fact that he avoided me like the plague and never made eye-contact with me when I was around was the final kicker.
I broke up with her pretty much right after that, and it was one of the few times in my life that I seriously contemplated violence. I’m no weight lifter. I’m about 160 pounds soaking wet, and not an inch over 5’10”. Still, there was little doubt in my mind that I could have beaten this kid into a pulp. I was lean—he was scrawny. It was the only time that I sort of understood a certain psychotic girl I dated briefly who cold-cocked my friend’s fiancé.
I finally decided against it. There was nothing really stopping me from rolling down there with a crew and beating him like a minority suspect, but I realized that I wasn’t really mad at him. I was really just pissed that my ex had lied to me and I had no real good way to direct my anger back at her...until I got drunk a few weeks later and left a passive aggressive away message. Besides, he was going to find out soon enough what kind of a woman he had gotten involved with.
It’d be best if everyone came around to this point of view. Why get mad at the other man if your girl runs off? Your girl was the one who cheated! Guy number two was just an available cock. And really, that’s all some girls need. Temptations are everywhere—it’d be like beating up a butcher when your girl got fat. The butcher was just offering the meat; your girl was the one who couldn’t turn down the extra sausage.
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