End of a Cheating Wife

This is a little different that most of my work, a bit more dark. I wrote the opening paragraph while taking a break from another story and it just grew.

I'd like to make one point about a technical aspect of this piece. Almost the entire story is a spoken tirade by one person, so don't take me to task about punctuation. I put quotation marks at the beginning of his dissertation and at the end. I'm sure someone more knowledgeable than me will correct me if it's wrong.

As always constructive comments and critiques are welcome and appreciated.

Thanks for taking the time to read and comment on my work. I hope you enjoy it.

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"Let's take a look at your little extra marital escapade, Julie. Let's list all the things that a slut of a wife sez when she's been caught, shall we? There's the always popular 'I didn't mean or want to hurt you'. Yeah sure, how did you think I'd feel when I found out? Next we have 'you didn't do anything to cause this'. Really? Something must have been off kilter for you to run around and open your legs for some guy. Now we come to 'He doesn't mean anything to me, it's only sex'. Like that's suppose to make it all okay, it may be only sex but it's sex with someone other than your husband.

Okay the big finish, 'I love you and only you' plus 'I'll do anything to make it up to you so we can go on with our lives together'. First I don't believe that I love you crap. You don't do what you did to someone you love. Second do you really think there's anything you can do or say that will make me forget that you're nothing but a back stabbing, lying, slut? Do you?

Have we covered all the bullshit excuses in the cheating slut wives' handbook? Or maybe that's slut wives' cheating handbook?

I guess the handbook's second chapter tells you how to turn this around on me; to make it my fault. I didn't pay enough attention to you or I put in too much time at work or my business trips left you alone too much. But wait, none of those can be the reason.

My lottery winnings mean neither of us has to work. Except for your trips to the spa or the gym or shopping, we're together almost all day every day. I know, I play golf too much of the time, or bowl too much or fish too much; that's the reason behind your screwing some other man.

Can't be; because I don't do any of that shit. All I do is take you on expensive vacations and treat you like a queen. So much for that chapter.

Is there anything I've left out? I didn't get a chance to study the handbook; I only scanned through it so I may have missed something. Anything you want to add? No? Well let me present my side.

There's no excuse for you turning into a slut, short of being raped or drugged there's no excuse for what you've been doing. Were you raped or drugged?.......... I'll take your silence as a no.

You were journalism major, so shall we examine the 5 W's for our little news story here. You remember; Who, When, Where, What, and Why. Let's take them one at a time. Who; I don't care nor do I want to know; if I did know I'd end up in jail for assault or possibly murder. When and Where we can lump together; when was last night and where was in a motel room, at least this time. I don't know the other times or other places, although I'm sure there were several.

What; I guess we both know the What of your little affair, don't we? And finally the Why; maybe the excuses from that handbook explained all that. The important thing about the Why is I don't care. I don't care why you had sex with the asshole or should that be assholes; it's enough that you did.

How did I find out? It wasn't rocket science. Example: There were the weekly four hour trips to the spa. When you got home the only difference was it seemed you'd just had a shower. Your hair hadn't been styled, your nails were just like they were when you left, and you were too tense to have had a massage. After your two hours at the gym twice a week your workout clothes weren't sweaty or even wrinkled very much.

Then there was the birth control pills. I found your hiding place in the back of the closet by accident. Why do you need birth control pills? I had a vasectomy before we got married because you didn't want to have any kids and you didn't like to use rubbers. The only logical deduction was that you had a lover or lovers on the side.

The rest of it was just a matter of following you and watching your actions. You weren't the sharpest tool in the shed when it came to covering your tracks.

My first reaction, the first thing I wanted to do when I walked into that motel room was to hurt you both; physically. I wanted to beat the hell out of that dick head and slap you around. But I stopped myself, thank God. If I'd started on him I don't know that I would have stopped. It would be too much if I had to go to jail because of that prick. You were never in danger, I'd never hit a woman. But damn I was tempted.

Kicking his ass and slapping you around would hurt you both, at least physically. But that wouldn't make you hurt the way I'm hurting right now.

So here's the deal; pack your shit and leave. Leave before I forget that I don't hit women. Don't call me, don't leave messages, don't write to me , and don't try to see me. Lose my phone number, forget where I live and forget that you ever knew me. There'll be no talking, no marriage councilors trying to excuse why you acted like a slut and help me get over this. No discussions or therapy to help me to forgive you because I can't and I won't.

The divorce laws in this state are as big a piece of crap as you are. We have no fault divorce so no matter which partner screws up or how bad, they still get half of everything. There are some states which I could sue you for breach of contract; I wished we lived in one of those. Oh, I could sue your asshole lover but he works as a salesman; when he works that is. For the last year he hasn't worked. I guess that's how long you've been using my money on him so he can get accustomed to the life style he'd like to lead.

You'll get your share of everything in the divorce; maybe that's what you wanted all along. I really don't mind you getting half of my money; I'll still have more than I can ever spend. What rubs salt in the wound, what frosts my ass, is that you'll be paid for ripping out my heart. Now ain't that some shit?

I wish there was some way to make you hurt as badly as I do. I wish there was some magic wand or phrase I could use that would make you feel like the pile of shit that you are. All I can think of is this; if you really love me like you say, your punishment will be that you don't get to be with me. You get to spend my money but you'll grow old without me. Every time you go to some exciting new place or do something new, you'll realize that we could have enjoyed the trip and the adventure together.

It probably won't bother you but I like to think it will. I have to think that way; it's a defense mechanism. I'll tell you what will bother you. When your actions are made public and they will be, I'll make sure of that, your reputation will precede you. No man in his right mind will want to have anything meaningful to do with you. There'll be plenty that will want to make you their personal slut. But none will want to have a real relationship because of your track record. You'll have to go through life alone or with men who only want to use your body or my money.

One last thing, I wouldn't count on being with that piece of garbage you were screwing. Seems like he was involved in a confrontation with a guy and got his ass kicked. During the ass kicking he was told that if he was still in town the next day it would happen again, and again, and again; until he did leave or until he died. You know the old this town isn't big enough for the two of us type of thing?

How do I know all this? You remember that friend of mine, the ex-con, well I told him my story. It seems that he told the story to a friend who told it to a friend who told it to still another friend and the last friend was so upset that he had a talk with your lover. The piece of crap left town yesterday. I guess he didn't feel you were worth fighting for. Anyway, he couldn't have held you with his broken arm. By the way I was playing poker with several friends when all this happened.

I'm done talking. As I said before pack your shit and leave. I'll be back in a couple of hours and you'd better be gone. Don't take anything but your clothes and your jewelry; your car stays here. You can call a cab or another boyfriend for transportation. Anything you leave behind will be donated to the Salvation Army or something. I warn you Julie, nothing but your personal things better be missing from this house. You really don't want me to tell another story to my friend, the ex-con."

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It was closer to three hours before I returned home. Most of Julie's clothes were gone; there were a few pair of jeans and cheaper things left behind. Her jewelry box was gone and most of her cosmetics too.

She was gonna be missed, not the lying cheating slut part, but I was gonna miss the rest of her. She was a beautiful, sexy, hard bodied, blond that liked to hang all over me. We had a lot of good times together and the sex was outstanding. Sometimes she embarrassed me but she did make me feel good.

I decided that my friend, Jack Daniels, and I needed to have a heart to heart. As I poured my first drink I looked ahead. I wouldn't roll over and die and I wasn't gonna do anything stupid like turn into a drunk. But I was gonna be sad for awhile.

Pouring another drink, I took a sip and then decided to empty the rest of the bourbon down the sink. No need to go there I thought and then mused aloud, "Life goes on!"