Up until two days ago, I believed my wife’s reason for divorcing me:
That she never really loved me in the first place.
But then I got this message:
I got this at work and could barely function the rest of the day. I knew something had to be going on. She talked about these classmates of hers at this Air Force training class ad nauseam, so I’m not surprised she got involved with the one she talked about the most, Ray.
Fuck you, Ray.
I don’t know if things between them ever became sexual. I haven’t confronted my wife with this revelation yet. But it really doesn’t matter. Even if it was just an emotional affair, that’s just as bad. Maybe worse. I think I would rather she have gotten drunk one night and fucked a stranger. Maybe that wouldn’t hurt so bad. Maybe that I could forgive.
I talked with Maria for about 45 minutes on Tuesday night. She seems like a sweet, loving lady. She and Ray have been married 27 years and have two children together. And he was willing to break up his family and hook up with my wife, who is breaking up ours.
They deserve each other. I hope my wife signs over her parental rights and runs off to be with him. I hope he leaves his wife and starts fucking mine. Then I hope their lives together are cursed forever and that they die horrible, painful deaths without their children around. That’s what they deserve.
Today, to be divorced means I want them to suffer.