Betrayed Husbands Anonymous

Generally, I don't like writing BTB stories (though I do love to read them), I am more a believer in the best revenge is living well.

I also think most revenge is out of reach for most betrayed husbands. They might do many things, if they had the skill, the contacts, or the resources -- but most of us don't.

This story came to mind as a way the average guy might be able to exact his revenge. It will also provide me with the means to have the husband go after his betrayers in future stories.

No city names are mentioned. Only the distance between cities. The location could be anywhere.

This is clearly a work of fiction. I have tried to portray this group as plausibly as possible, but in my experience, one thing stands in the way of such endeavors. As Benjamin Franklin put it, three can keep a secret, if two are dead.

I hope you enjoy.

* * * * *

There was a knock at my door. Who could be knocking? No one knows I live in this little dump. I've been here for nearly two months, since my wife announced she was bored and going on a date. More about that later.

She left. I packed and I left. She blamed me! If I weren't so selfish, I'd let her have a good time now and then. This, after all was just a harmless fling.

I opened the door, a man about my age, mid 40s, nicely dressed, was standing there. "Jim?" he said, holding a business card in his left hand while offering me his right.

I did a shuffling with my hands, trying to decide whether to shake his, take the card, do both, or do neither. I finally laughed, used my left hand to take the card, shook his with my right, and looked at the card. It merely said, Betrayed Husbands Anonymous at the top and centered in larger print, one name, Ralph.

"Yes, uh Ralph, I'm Jim, Jim Anderson. And you are?"

"Just Ralph. You'll understand why if you allow me to come in and talk to you."

I laughed. I just couldn't help it. My dear wife, who only two months ago wanted a one-time date, as a fling, was marrying some guy. She had filed for divorce, citing abandonment as her reason. Now, some guy seeks me out and hands me a business card claiming he is a member of a group of betrayed husbands. "Well, Ralph, why not? Anything you have to say to me must be better than any news I've gotten in the last, well, whenever."

Ralph came in and we went to the kitchen table, the best place to sit and talk in my current shit-hole abode. As he was sitting down, I offered him coffee, he accepted and asked, "Do you have this morning's newspaper?"

I opened my pantry drawer and got in the recycling bin. Right on top was the paper. "Here, I thought it a slow news day."

He looked for the local news section and went to the second page, folded it back and pointed to an article. "Did you read this?"

"I hadn't. It was about some brutal beating outside the hospital a few days ago. Police had determined the man who was beaten, a Dr. Michael Watson, was the victim of a random gang attack. He was seriously injured, though the nature of his injuries was not disclosed."

"So?" I was confused. This guy surely wasn't a betrayed husband, why was I reading about him?

"It seems Mr. Watson is living with a Roberta Dunstan. Bobbie, as she is called was married for nearly 20 years to Mr. Dunstan. Dunstan has some middle-management position. He does pretty well. Dr. Watson, however, was a surgeon."

"Was a surgeon?"

"His unlisted injuries were mainly to his hands and his groin. It is unlikely he will ever operate again, in either an OR or a bedroom, if you get my drift."

I laughed, nervously, "That's not hard to follow. Hurts to think about."

"Continuing with my story. Dr. Watson had a wandering set of eyes, which became fixated on Mrs. Dunstan. He pursued, then caught her. In the end, she decided to trade up. She magnanimously left her former husband with all their assets and their two children. Well, children is not an accurate term. Their daughter is 18 and in college, the son is 17 and a senior in high school."

"Sounds like Mr. Dunstan got his revenge."

"That is why I am here, Jim. I can assure you Mr. Dunstan had absolutely nothing to do with Dr. Watson's beating."

"Are you saying you did it?"

"Of course not, in fact, until earlier this morning I was unaware of the existence of Watson, the Dunstans, or you, for that matter. This morning, I was given the information I am sharing with you now and told to come here and share that information with you."

Who is this guy? I scratched my head and looked at him. Clearly, someone was pissed at Doc Watson and it would seem likely it was the ex-husband. If he had nothing to do with the beating, why am I being told? "Okay, I give up. I cannot solve the riddle."

Ralph smiled, "Very good! You cannot. The point is no one can. As you pointed out, it looks like Dunstan got revenge and yet, Dunstan is not guilty. No one will ever be convicted, or even arrested for this assault. Watson's income possibilities are now few, and the former Mrs. Dunstan is in a real pickle. Dunstan will sleep well tonight and did nothing wrong.

"If I might ask, how are you sleeping?" Ralph paused and stared right through me.

How am I sleeping? Dunstan is sleeping well because he knows he's gotten his revenge, seemingly without any personal involvement. Ralph is telling me he can get me revenge. "Ralph, let me ask you this, are you looking for revenge against your wife?"

"Jim, and this too, is important, I am not permitted to give you any detail of my life. Absolutely none."

"It sounds to me like this organization is one which gets guys like you and me revenge on the cheating skanks and their lovers."

"Again, I don't want you to misunderstand. I never said anything like that. I never implied anything like that. If you draw an inference like that from what I have said, my advice would be, keep it to yourself. Say nothing about it ever, to anyone."

Well, this is starting to make sense. This group is of people who don't know each other and somehow that leads to "innocent revenge" for me. The ground rules are no one explicitly says that is what they are doing. "Oh, I understand, Ralph. You explain things quite clearly. If I were interested in becoming a member of," I glanced down at the business card, "Betrayed Husbands Anonymous, what would I do?"

"There is a meeting at this address." He reached in his pocket and pulled out a card with the name of a restaurant and its address.

"That's nearly 80 miles from here!"

"That is where the meeting will be held, it will begin promptly at 7:00pm, day after tomorrow. Are you interested?"

The group calls itself anonymous, maybe that is one of the ways they stay anonymous. "Sure, I'll be there."

"There is a private room in the restaurant. Tell the receptionist, you are part of the Petry party. When you get to the room, show them the card I gave you and present yourself as Ralph." He stood, obviously to leave.

"Wait! I have about a thousand questions."

"I have said what I came to say. Thank you and I wish you well." With that he smiled and left.

I was excited for the first time since living alone. A chance at revenge without risk. This was some sort of a chain letter on steroids. Obviously, if I am ever asked who brought me into the group, all I can say is "Ralph". Now, since I am Ralph, I don't even know if that was his first name. It seems apparent that as I go along, I will get more instruction and information, which ultimately will lead to a bon fire with my ex in the middle. Did that mean I would, at some point, need to build and light the bon fire for some one else? Even if there is no chance of getting caught, could I batter the hands of a surgeon I'd never met? Revenge without getting caught is still not without remorse. I had thinking to do.

I needed to know more about my wife's intended. Judy, my wife, came into the den one Friday night, dressed for an evening out. I had been home only a few minutes and was wondering why I did not smell dinner cooking. She announced she was going on a date. A fight ensued, a horn honked, and she was on her way. I decided I would not be disrespected, packed a bag and left. I found a crappy one-bedroom apartment I could rent month-to-month (bad as it is I bet I could have rented it minute-to-minute). Being honorable, I knew I'd still need to pay on our home expenses.

Knowing how well men do in divorces I was socking away all the cash I could. I searched for a private detective and found several here in town. I called one and described what I needed. My wife is now living in our home with a guy who drives a blue Toyota; find out who he is and what he does. It would cost very little to get that information.

Now, I had a day-and-a-half to think about what kind of revenge I wanted and what I was willing to do to have that revenge. Somehow it was easier when the law prevented me from seeking this revenge. No matter how safe, there is no way I am going to maim someone for life; it just isn't in me.

++++++++++

I entered the restaurant and asked for the Petry party (I wondered if it was supposed to be reminiscent of pity party). I was led to a room with four tables with six chairs each. The room was half full of people. They looked up, said hi, and looked away. We were not looking to become friends, apparently. A man approached, "Hi! I'm Bill."

We shook hands, "Hi Bill, I'm Ralph."

"Oh, Ralph. Let's see, you sit over at table 3," he pointed, "on the end. Bob isn't here yet. He'll introduce himself when he arrives."

Bill walked away and I went to my seat. I looked at my watch, it was 6:55. Just then, three waiters came in with trays. They set a variety of sandwiches, salads, and drinks on a table along the wall. Bill said, "Help yourselves."

I got my food and drink and returned to my seat. By the time I got back to my seat the chair to my right was now occupied. "Hi, I'm Bob."

"Hi Bob, I'm Ralph."

"Ralph, my role here this evening is to explain what will go on. The first thing that will happen, after we've eaten is one of us will share his story. I want you to pay particular attention to what he says. These presentations take a particular form. One day you will be asked to make a similar presentation."

"When will I be asked to do this?"

"Ralph, this is all a bit bewildering. Information is doled out to you. It is doled out for a reason and while it is uncomfortable to go through, as you are asked to do various things, I will assure you that you will never be asked to do anything that gives you pause."

"Bob, I am worried. A man came to my apartment..."

"Ralph, I want you to hold that thought. One of the things which is absolutely necessary in our process is anonymity. You must never share with anyone any part of this process. Let me offer this. You have a concern that you will be asked to do something that is outside of your own moral code. I cannot guarantee you won't be asked, but I can guarantee you will never have to do anything you are not comfortable doing.

"Oh, here. The presentation is about to start."

A man stood, walked to the front of the room, and announced, "Hi everyone, my name is Mike."

Everyone responded, "Hi! Mike."

"I want to tell you my story. I am 46 years old. I was married for 24 years. Just before our 25th wedding anniversary, I came home and found my wife and my brother in bed together. They had been lovers for years. We had three children, the oldest and youngest were mine, the middle child was my brother's.

"We had a family business. It is still run by my father. My father always favored my brother. I told the family I would no longer be a part of any business which included my brother. I was basically told not to let the door hit me in the ass as I left.

"I am now trying to build a business struggling against my own family. My brother is sabotaging me for his own entertainment. My former wife and brother are going to marry. My children are being turned against me."

Mike stopped talking and took a sip from a water bottle. Then, resumed, "What I wish is my father could be persuaded to listen to what is really happening. I wish he could force himself to see my brother's treachery, bleeding his business.

"I thank you all for listening."

The whole thing was less than five minutes. As soon as he seated himself, the room was abuzz with people talking in pairs. In my case, Bob talked to me.

"What did you hear, if I might ask?"

"Mike mentioned no names. He spoke of a business, but nothing that would tell me what the business was. He was totally vague."

"Good. At least partially good." Bob was looking at me, thinking about his next statement. "Did Mike ask for anything?"

It hit me. "No. He asked for nothing. He did say he wished his father would listen and would find out what is going on."

"Would you call his wish vague?"

"No, it was quite specific."

"Do you think it called for any violence or illegal activity?"

I just smiled. An answer was not called for. I decided to offer, "It was also a wish, not a request. Mike has asked no one for anything."

"There is a meeting in two weeks and another in a month. Could you be ready to present at one of those?"

I thought about the PI and his report. I would get that in a week. Depending on what it contained, I'd need to figure out what I should wish for. "Bob, it would be safer to ask for a month. What if I am not ready in that month?"

"You merely go to the meeting and report when you will be ready to present."

"So, I show up here in a month?"

Bob smiled. "Hardly." He gave me the location and time of the next meeting and his card. I was currently about 80 miles east of my home. The next meeting was in a little town about 50 miles northwest. The meeting was in a diner at 2:00pm. I'll bet we will be the only ones in the place. Our last piece of business was Bob handing me his card. "Introduce yourself as Bob."

I was driving home trying to figure this all out. It was easy, then it was impossible. Someone of us paired up people at different points of this process. Meetings were held everywhere, apparently. All of us were sent to different cities and used false first names, no one knew anybody, not even where they lived. So, we could all come up with our idea of revenge and tell the group. But what then?

I can do what Bob or Bill did; undoubtedly, I will. But they tell me I'm not going to be asked to do something illegal, so I won't be asked to maim anyone. It seemed today's request involved looking at the books of some mystery company. Not illegal, but I couldn't look at them or know what I saw if I did. There was a big piece missing.

++++++

Life could have been so different. In almost every way Chuck's life had ended that night. He came home and found his wife in bed with some guy. She should have known better. Chuck's business was drugs, sex, gambling, and assuring his "company" had no competition.

Mostly, he kept competition from growing by explaining consequences to would-be competitors. Sometimes, they required small demonstrations of his potential sincerity. Of course, other times he had to actually carry out the consequences. The nice part of that, no one needed a second lesson in consequences; the first being terminal.

Chuck could not believe his eyes. His stupid wife knew what he'd do, and now he was forced to do it. He reached for his gun but decided these two needed to be punished, first. He threw the man aside and hit his wife, knocking her unconscious. He turned his attention toward the naked gentleman scrambling to get up. He never made it.

Chuck was in the process of hitting, kicking, stomping, gouging, and otherwise destroying his wife's lover. He was beyond angry, but "a true professional"; he was taking his time. Like a mouse caught by a cat, the lover was in for a long day -- his last.

Chuck heard a gunshot behind him, felt a sharp pain, fell to his knees, and lost consciousness. He awoke in a hospital bed, hand cuffed to the side rail. He found he was charged with one count of murder and another of assault. By the time his wife recovered, shot him, called 911, and got a response, her lover had died from internal injuries.

Chuck was a very wealthy man. He got a great attorney, plead temporary insanity and got 7-10 years for involuntary manslaughter. He was a model prisoner and out in seven years. He was full of fury.

He did have a prenuptial agreement and his divorce cost him nothing but legal fees. He ruined the slut financially, killed her lover, and was very disappointed he'd not done more. He was warned that if anything happened to her, he'd end up in prison for life. He decided he'd forgo any further revenge, until he found an ironclad way to attain it.

Chuck needed revenge. As he thought about it, who he took revenge upon was less important to him than exacting the revenge. One cheating slut was like any other. The men who helped them betray their husbands all deserving of a similar fate. Chuck could keep getting revenge, and as long as it was on other's, equally deserving, he would never be caught.

Eventually, he came up with Betrayed Husbands Anonymous.

Chuck was a perfect conduit between people wanting revenge and people who could exact revenge. He started developing the means by which the two could be in contact and yet never meet.

++++++

The private eye's report was revealing. My wife's one-time fling was with a guy she worked with. Her definition of one-time must have been this was the one-time she'd tell me anything about it.

She and Bozo had fallen in love, and she was planning on dumping me and marrying him. Her plan showed thought, not good thought, and not much thought -- but thought, all the same. She told me she was going out to provoke me. She was certain I would leave. Once I left, she could deny having gone out and file for divorce claiming I abandoned her.

The downside of her idea was the fact she and her lover were recognizable to at least three hotel desk people, on sight. Her company enforced no policy regarding married people being involved in the workplace. What form would my revenge take?

I was not tied to the area. My parents had retired to Florida, nearly a thousand miles away. I could just quit my job and disappear. But first, I needed her to be single, without good prospects, and preferably, unemployed.

Her current "love" was a cheater, surely, we could get him to cheat. Maybe, we could find a beautiful woman at the free clinic, who had a few nasty diseases, and entice her to seduce him. I liked that. Simple, yet almost surely would get the two mad at one another. If it became public, or they shared with other co-workers, that could get them fired.

Easy to think of, how on earth could it be done? What was the expression? Go big or go home? Why would I limit what I want? If they can't do it, they can tell me. I was ready to go tell my story, with two days left.

++++++

I got to the diner. It was an old home, converted. You entered into what had been a dining and family room. There was a counter. One probably local man sat there with a cup of coffee. There was an open double-wide door into another room, possibly a bedroom in the past. Maybe a dozen or so men sat in there.

I entered. A man stood and approached me. "Hi, I'm Bob." I told him.

He didn't bother to give me his false name, he just pointed at an empty table and told me to sit there. I did and was joined by, "Hi, I'm Ralph." Oh swell, I thought, we've run through the list of names apparently. "Hi, Ralph, Bob."

He didn't have much to say, neither did I. Soon it was my turn to stand and tell my story.

"Hi, I'm Bob." The group gave me a not-so-warm, Hi Bob. "Let me share with you what happened to me. I was married to slut who was cheating on me. I was just too stupid to know it. She came to me one night and announced she was going on a date, just a one-time fling. She knew I'd leave her. I did and she filed for divorce claiming abandonment on my part. She and her one-time fling had been shacking up in local motels for months.