Why did the men who fucked my wife when I was still married to her feel compelled to inform me? I'd think they wouldn't want to tell me, or in any way let me know. However, quite the opposite was true. While still drinking, I'd meet men in bars who wanted to tell me all about it. Same thing in recovery. After I sobered up, I'd meet these men in AA meetings. What possible purpose was there other than to hurt me as deeply as possible? I used to get invited to her birthday parties, but never attended because I didn't want to meet these guys again. Was I invited so they could laugh at or mock me?
I have a very good friend who likes female companionship and has a lot of girlfriends. However, he told me once that he wouldn't mess with married women. The reason for that is because once, in a shopping center parking lot, he was sitting in his truck with a married woman. He said another truck pulled up alongside. It was her husband, and he just stared at them for awhile and then drove off. He drove to a railroad crossing and parked on it as a train arrived.
I didn't kill myself over this shit, but I didn't track these guys down and put a hole in their heads, either. When I feel like I do today, I could do it easily. I wouldn't worry about legal repercussions because I would off myself, or suicide by cop.
I've never had a dream like this morning. I was thrown out of bed by my own sobbing. 25 years later and I'm still tormented. I want so badly to stick a barrel in each of those assholes' mouths and pull the trigger. What gave them the right to fuck with my marriage, to shake it to its core? Even after we were no longer living together, my wife's boyfriends would seek me out to give me the lurid details. Maybe she told them to.
One time, she called me to come over to her apartment. I got there and we were talking about mostly nothing and I kept wondering why she wanted me there. When I told her I had to go, the reason rose forth: she told me that she'd slept with my best friend recently. I was completely overcome by my emotions. First off, if she was going to sleep with other men, I'd prefer her to sleep with my best friend because he was my best friend and not a piece of shit she bumped into. Second, I was deeply wounded. Not by her fucking my pal, but by her desire to hurt me so badly that she'd sleep with him.
Sometimes, sometimes when I haven't had ****** in weeks, I think of getting drunk and putting those assholes in their graves, then taking myself down. I don't have a fucking thing to lose.
So watch out. My show might be coming to your neighborhood soon. Then you can join the chorus of people saying, "Well, yes, I read it, but I never thought he'd go through with it."
Every year. every month, each day, give me less and less reason to stay in this world.