The Grand Prize Was a Cheater & a Bottle of Vodka

February 2014

One day I was talking to a dear friend who is wise beyond measure. I referred to the whore as a homewrecker. She pointed out to me that she wasn’t a homewrecker; my family was intact and I had won. I had to think about that. I don’t always feel like I’ve won. It sucks knowing your husband was declaring his love for someone else, someone he considered his soul mate. How do you feel like you’ve won when the prize is a lying, cheating sonofabitch? I’m being melodramatic here. I don’t feel that way now. I’m actually pretty pleased with my life right now. But still it’s that phrasing. Kinda like our marriage is better than ever. You know how I hate that one! I don’t think there are any winners or losers in the aftermath of an affair. Sure, he’s with me. He picked me. He’s a lot nicer. A lot more attentive. But he still lied and cheated. And that’s not a great prize to win.

I’ve recently resolved to stop letting her take things from me. I think it was the vodka that threw me over the edge. I love vodka and I refuse to give it up because some skank ass whore who sent naked pictures to my husband and told him how much she loved him and wanted to suck his dick all summer long, likes it, too. Fuck that! I also don’t give a flying fuck what kind of dream house they picked out. I’ll buy whatever kind of house I want and if it happens to be Harley’s dream house, oh well! Sucks for her that I’m living in her dream house (with her soul mate, nonetheless) and she’s not. Maybe I’ll even start calling my husband baby and honey and sweetie again. Screw you, Harley! You’re not taking another damn thing from me. Let me rephrase that. Even though you have TRIED to take my husband and my life away from me you FAILED! And I’m certainly not going to start voluntarily giving things up simply because the thought of being anything like you nauseates me. Maybe he was attracted to her because she reminded him of me. Maybe she’s the one who should be distancing herself from me and everything I like. At any rate, I am done. I will drive to Whore Town, the city in my state that has the same name as yours, every day if I have to. I will do it with my head held high, a smile on my face and a song in my heart. Because at the end of the day they are all simply reminders of a person who attempted to fuck with me, who tried to worm her way into my life and snatch away my husband. A reminder of a person who completely and utterly failed.

Editor’s Note: Obviously, that didn’t play out quite the way I thought it was going to.  I think I’m still the one who is going to end up laughing.