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.
"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.