“An average man with an average life, with no motivation and no aspirations,” they said.

“I don’t understand what she sees in him. She is too good for someone like him,” her sister said.

“At least try to earn half of what she earns before trying to boss her around,” someone took a dig.

He was numb to such provocation by now. It wasn’t worth reminding them that he had supported her college education. He had burned his golden years, working three jobs and managing his home. He had no life. Maybe that’s why he held no value for them.

A few more days, his divorce would be final. He couldn’t wait to be out of this town and far away from these obnoxious, toxic people.

She had promised to be alone when she begged him to give her a chance to explain. He had stopped trusting her long ago and knew she would not respect his wishes. As expected, she and her entourage ambushed him here. He had hoped they would plead her case, but they leaned towards insulting him.

The drama played out as she had planned. While he was being cornered, she walked in to save him. She had set the tone right and geared up to play the victim and shift the blame.

He was not interested in her lies and deceit. It was a pretty straightforward case for him. A trusting fool, blinded by his love, had allowed people to walk all over him. He pulled out an envelope. It had mementos of her sexual exploits and attainments. Her face lost its color, and she squirmed in her seat. He had no interest in making her feel guilty. His only question was to know how much of a fool he was.

“What was your body count before our marriage, and what is it after?” He asked her with a straight face. He knew the total would be three digits, but he was not interested in the truth. All he wanted to hear was some number as her confession.

She thought of bluffing, but the stack of photos in front gave her a pause. She tried to downplay, but it would be damaging, nonetheless. “Twenty-eight and thirty-two,” she whispered.

She had confessed to sixty, and he wanted to match that body count. It became his new goal: to sleep with sixty different women in two years.

He got up from his seat and walked away, never looking back. Her sobs and shrills had lost power over him, but he still couldn’t understand her reason. On one side, she had asked for everything in the divorce, and on the other, she wanted him to stay. She had already taken everything he considered important from him. What more could she want? As for him, he never fought over the terms and never asked for anything. All he wanted was his freedom.

As the divorce went through, he unleashed his vengeance on her and each one of her sexual partners. Well, at least as many as he could find. The ensuing drama kept the courts busy and lawyers happy for the upcoming months. His ex-wife became the target of angry wives and heartbroken lovers of the men she had played around with. She had to leave the town for her safety.

This did not calm his anger, though. The cathartic experience he wanted never happened. He wanted them to pay for their actions, but it brought him no joy. Watching their misery was just plain and dull. There was no pleasure in looking at the suffering and the destruction he had started.

It had been six months since then. He had gotten a better job, made more money, and gained some muscles, but nothing helped. New friends gave him no joy, and hobbies never gave him the relaxation he desired. The feeling of inadequacy still haunted him. He tried therapy but stopped wasting his money when they suggested forgiveness. The alcohol was good but didn’t stick, but the cigarettes did. He had a new relationship that gave instant gratification whenever needed.

One year had passed, and he had made progress. His body count was four, but he had paid for both. They called him crazy as he spent most of his time talking with escorts. They had to give him pity sex to make him quiet. The escorts had enough misery and stopped responding to his calls soon. The whole experience helped him though, as he learned his lesson. He stopped complaining about his past and started listening more. It was time to focus on his target of sleeping with sixty women. He started visiting bars and pubs. His new skill in identifying cheaters proved handy as he solely focused on that group. His well-earned reputation as a crying shoulder helped him get more pity sex. Listening to their reasons, he found his closure. While chasing his body count, he learned the mentality of cheaters.