Isn't That How You Got Her?

Talk about crying in your beer!

He was, literally. He was on his fourth or fifth when I got there, something came[snigger]up and I was running a little late. Sliding onto the stool beside him, I pointed at him, and soon yet another beer was in front of him. I had a boilermaker, it was miserable outside, sleeting sideways under a stiff wind. It felt like grains of sand being thrown at your face. I needed something to warm me up quick.

I dropped the shot glass of brandy into the mug, and chugged it down. The next one slid down even easier. I went back to just beer afterward, I had achieved the rosy glow I was looking for. I probably would nurse this one until I left.

Tony was starting to lose it, so I got a table and ordered him some food, asking him to hold off on the drinking for awhile. I wanted him near enough to sober to fully understand our talk. He almost inhaled a dozen hot wings and a large order of fries. Guess he shouldn't have skipped lunch earlier. I knew he'd never find her in an hour, and he didn't.

"Bitch was right there in front of me, then she just up and disappears. I checked her mom, her girlfriends, the people she works with. Nobody knew anything."

He paused, and took a gulp of beer.

"Do you think Chris would cheat on me? We've only been married for a year. Could she really do something like that?"

I let him ramble for a minute before I stopped him. "Tony, be honest here. Isn't that how you got her?"

...

His mouth hung open for a second before he went into a rant.

"You asshole! How could you say a thing like that?"

I tried to keep a serious face, hoping he wouldn't be able to see my eyes through the dim lighting and alcoholic fog.

"I can say it, Tony, because it's true. You were both married when you hooked up, to each others' best friends at the time. There's a precedent here. If she'll cheat on one husband, what's to stop her from doing it to another? After all, she's had a little practice now, she's probably pretty good at hiding it."

He was listening intently, you could almost see the thought gaining traction in his muddled brain.

I pushed forward.

"Maybe she's been spending a lot of time with friends. Does she go on a girl's night out often? Ever wonder when you're bowling and she doesn't answer the house phone where she could be? Or if the cell goes straight to voicemail, then she calls you back a few minutes later, out of breath? It's all easily explainable.

Motive and opportunity, Tony. If she wants to cheat she will find a way, and you can do jack shit about it."

"No, no," he whined, holding his head, "she loves me."

"Says the man who was all over Gloria when I walked in. Let me guess, you just needed a shoulder to cry on."

Gloria was the local punchboard. The girl had issues. She was pretty, not dumb by any means, but for some reason she had a hard time saying "No." She made a run at me and I actually took her out on a real date. Most just met her at the bar, poured a few drinks into her, and took her to their apartment or a cheap motel.

I wined her, dined her, took her dancing, and at the end of the night took her home, gave and received a couple very nice kisses, and left.

She was all over me the next evening.

"Why did you leave?"

"Because the date was over. I had a really good time, by the way. I'd really like to do it again sometime."

"The answer will be yes, whenever you ask," she said grinning, "but you know what I'm talking about. You know I would have tried my best to fuck you blind if I could have gotten you into my apartment."

"Why?"

"Why what?" she asked, obviously confused.

"Why would you have wanted to fuck me blind? Because I took you out, tried to show you a good time? Because you thought it was what I was after, something that you felt you owed me? News flash baby, I like to get to know someone I'm interested in, see if we fit, see if I want to take it past a first date. I'm thirty two, my days of banging and bailing are long over. If that's all you want, every guy at this bar and some of the women would love to be your fuck buddy. It's just not me, honey."

"Are you sure you're a man? You're not some romance novel hero come to life through some weird ass curse or magic, are you?"

"Just a guy," I laughed, "maybe a bit out of the norm, but still just a guy."

We talked for a bit more. Just before we parted she asked me a question I had trouble answering.

What's wrong with me, Chill? Why do I do these things. And please, be honest. I can take it."

I sighed. "Hon, I don't really know you that well. But I'll tell you what I think based on what I do know. I think something in your past had made you really insecure, damaged your self image. It might be why you sleep with everyone who asks. You're an attractive woman, Gloria, but sitting around is this bar is wearing on you. Not to hurt your feelings, but you've developed a little gut, and your skin is suffering from not getting enough sun."

I watched her face as what I said sunk in. Oddly, she didn't look to be in pain, it seemed more reflective.

"Here's Dr. Chills' recommendation. Spend less time in the bars. Join a gym, an exercise class, maybe take up running. Spend more time outside. Put the word 'no' in your vocabulary. And Gloria, do it for yourself, not because me or anyone else tells you to. Learn to love yourself before you try to find love with anyone else."

She nodded once or twice, stood, kissed me on the cheek and left. I didn't see her again for two weeks.

Turning my attention back to Tony, I probably should have been more empathetic with him, I'd been cheated on before. Four years and it still hurt.

"I bet that's what she told her first husband, every time she came home from spending time with you. She might even have meant it, who knows for sure? You most likely said the same thing to your wife at the time. Maybe you guys really believed it, then. When did it stop being a fling and start being a relationship?"

I had him reeling, and I wasn't easing up, even as painful memories were dredged up. He needed to see what kind of person he was.

"Her husband worked so damn much. I mean, he was my best friend, but he was so serious all the time. My wife wasn't quite as bad, but she sometimes had to work long hours. I'd call, hoping to get Charley, he wouldn't be there and we'd end up talking. We started eating out together every once in a while. Charley knew it, we weren't trying to hide anything, and he actually thanked me. Jen[his wife]was up for that promotion, so she put the hours in, did the traveling even though she hated it. She was all right with us spending time too, saying she knew I was safe from temptation if I was with her best friend."

He paused, a slight grin on his face.

"It was an accident, the first time. We got smashed, I couldn't even drive, we had to cab it back to her house. We opened another bottle of wine, and by the time it was finished we were all over each other. God, did we feel awful the next morning. Swore it would never happen again, and that we would never tell."

"We made it for about four months before it happened again. Jen was in Cleveland, and Charley was in Atlanta. We never even made it out of the house. We took one look at each other and I grabbed her hand, dragging her to the bedroom. She tried to stop me, but not very hard. I felt like such an ass for fucking her in his bed, but couldn't stop myself. We fucked in every position we could imagine for two days. She gives state of the art blowjobs, and said I ate pussy better than a lesbian."

"The flood gates were open. We started seeing each other while they were in town, long lunches, afternoons at their house since she didn't work. We got sloppy, and they both surprised us one afternoon."

"Jen was screaming, he was yelling, Chris was crying, and I got stupid. I was about to hit Charley when Jen slammed me with her purse. It felt like she'd filled it with rocks, but it was just the junk she insists on having in there.

She managed to dislocate my jaw. It still hurts when it turns cold and wet."

He stopped, rubbing his jaw, remembering.

"What happened then?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"Readers' Digest version, we all got divorced. I got hosed pretty good in the settlement because this isn't a no fault state, and Chris didn't do very well either. She got forty percent to his sixty. He insisted they sell the house unless she could buy his part, knowing how much she loved it, and all the hours she spent making it a showcase. No way she could swing it, so it got sold. She also got the bare minimum of alimony, for three years unless she remarried. The business was exempted due to a prenupt."

"But you guys told me you married less than a year later," I interjected as he paused to take a drink, "surely that cost her the alimony."

"It did. But it wasn't that much to start with. I had a good job, and she went back to work. It gave us a decent living. Not the lifestyle we had before, but our bills were paid and we had a little left over. We're talking about trying to get a house next year."

"Good for you guys! I had a house once, years ago. Ownership is a beautiful thing." It was, I remembered it well.

He sighed. "Yeah, well, plans may change. I just don't know now."

"Cheer up!" I said, heartily. "I'm sure it's nothing. Let me tell you about my night. I've met someone, a real babe. She's everything I'd want in a woman. I think she has feelings for me, but there's a drawback. She's already married."

His drunk leer was back.

"You sneaky bastard! I never pictured you going after a married woman. Be careful bro, I know from experience some husbands can get downright snippy if they find out." He paused, grinning. "Still, it's a rush isn't it? Like hunting an endangered specie or joyriding in a Maserati. You know it's wrong and illegal, but that's where the fun is."

I sighed. "Yeah, well, I doubt I'll pursue it. Still, she's one fine female. Have another with me, and I'll drive you home. We can pick your car up tomorrow."

He grumbled but agreed. He'd already had one driving while intoxicated conviction, and couldn't afford another.

...

I looked over at him while I drove. he was passed out and drooling.

He would never have had a clue if I hadn't been sending snippets of information, making general observations, asking vague questions. All that, and the fact he wasn't getting any, had him wracked with suspicion. He couldn't focus at work, couldn't sleep well, he probably jerked off now on a regular basis.

I pulled into his garage. His wife Chris came out expecting to see his car.

"What are you doing here, Chill? Where's Tony?"

"Asleep. I'll get him in the house if you'll hold the door open."

Her eyes tightened in anger, but she helped me get him into the house and onto his bed. She took his shoes off, loosened his tie, and stepped back.

"That'll hold him. I'm sleeping in the guest room tonight. Thanks for bringing him home. You're a better friend than he deserves."

"I'm exactly what he deserves," I thought, as I hit her up for coffee.

"I'm not drunk, but I've had a few. We don't have to work tomorrow, so I'll come by after lunch and take him to get his car. Is that all right?"

Luckily it wasn't late, he was blitzed before ten, so she agreed, and we spent a pleasant ninety minutes talking. I think she was a little lonely, and I led the conversation back to her, learning all I could.

Why was I doing this? Because she was the married woman I was interested in, and I fully intended to take her away from him.

Was I a rotten bastard? Damn right. But I had my

reasons.

...

Before I turned into a flaming asshole of epic proportions, I thought I was a pretty good guy.

Didn't drink to excess, do drugs, gamble, chase other women. Sandy, my wife, said I had to be what Boy Scouts aspired to.

I worked hard at a decent job, loved my wife, even went to church. Apparently though, Sandy didn't want a boy scout, she wanted an asshole, and she went out and got one. Then she got another. She was up to Asshole #3 when I caught her.

What I was unprepared for was her sheer arrogance. It seems giving her everything she wanted gave her a disproportionate sense of entitlement.

"Oh, just get over it already. I still love you, I just need a little extra. You've been getting seconds for almost the whole time we've been married. Hasn't hurt you yet, has it? I make sure they're clean, and make sure they don't cut into our time together. Pitch a fit, do something stupid, and I'll take everything you have."

She didn't know it at the time, but she'd already taken everything that I had. All the rest was just stuff, and I could always get more stuff.

The lawyer I got said pretty much the same thing. Just because she'd admitted to it didn't mean a thing unless I had proof. Even then the best I could hope for was fifty per cent.

Did I hire a PI, wire the house, put GPS in her car, bug her purse? No.

I bought a tiny recorder at Best Buy for thirty nine bucks, and called her up, offering to see if we could try one more time.

"About time," she huffed, telling me where and when we were going to meet,"And don't try anything stupid. I'll know."

Well, that plan went out the window.

I got a friend of my parents and her husband to come to the restaurant she picked, and record the conversation from three tables away, using something she'd picked up off television. Partially deaf, she had earbuds and a small box the size of a phone that amplified sound. She was able to tape the whole conversation. I still have it.

Instead of trying to reconcile, she spent forty minutes welcoming me to my new lifestyle as a willing cuckhold, explaining a whole list of rules I was expected to follow. I just barely kept a straight face, told her I'd think about it, and left. She didn't offer a hug or kiss, just walked away. My marriage didn't go out with a bang, it didn't even rate a whisper.

But it did rate a grin from my lawyer. He actually laughed when I told him I wanted her to have everything, the house, the cars, the boat, etc. She also got all the payments. All I took was twenty grand from our savings, which she in her arrogance didn't close out, and disappeared for three years.

...

I had a skill set that was apparently very desirable in the Middle East.

No, I wasn't a mercenary. I had one actual fight in the third grade, and got beaten pretty bad. My Dad put me in Golden Gloves. I was pretty good at it, but didn't really pursue it seriously.

I knew bottling lines. My company made apple juice and sauce, and subcontracted for a sports drink company in the off season. We'd gotten a new labeling machine that no one knew how to run or repair. The manual was crap and the company didn't have anyone to send to help us out.

So I experimented, and we learned through trial and error. I completely rewrote the manual, making the instructions simple and included a trouble shooting chapter. When production jumped thirty percent everyone noticed, and soon the corporate boys were down to see why.

The drink company ended up giving me a check for the manual, and used it in their other locations.

They offered me a job but it was in Chicago and it was February, and my wife said no pretty fast.

The episode got me recognition, and a headhunter called, offering me jobs in different locations with different companies, all of which I said no to until my marriage imploded.

The next time he called I told him I'd consider it if he'd find me something as far away from where I was as possible. He went quiet for a second.

"How about Saudi Arabia? They're actually looking for someone with your particular skill set."

Wow. Well, I did say far away. "I didn't know Saudi Arabia raised apples."

"It's not apples, it's water. Actually, it's a

pretty neat setup. They make fresh water out of sea water, and sell it and the sea salt they extract. Nothing is wasted. They need a production manager pretty bad, and the pay is great."

"What's the catch? There has to be one."

He sighed. "The catch is it's Saudi Arabia. You're eight miles from the nearest town, and if you go the company won't be responsible. You probably wouldn't get killed, kidnap for ransom is the big thing right now. But you do get one week off every quarter, and they'll even fly you anywhere you want to go. The pay is three times what you make now, and there's a fifteen thousand dollar signing bonus after you complete the first year, ten the next, and you have to sign a two year contract."

He continued the pitch.

"On the plus side, housing and meals are provided, so living expenses are limited to any extras you want. You work twelve days on, two off, and like I said, one week a quarter vacation.

Think about it."

I was waffling about it until she did something really stupid. She and her asshole of the moment were outside in the parking lot when I got off work. I saw them and kept right on walking, thought about it, and went back to her car, standing outside his window.

"Chill, come over to my side, this shit has gone on long enough." She was frowning, and he had a goofy smirk on his face.

"I can hear you just fine from here, cunt. You need to leave. I have nothing to say to you or your dick of the month. Does he know he's the third since we married, or have you professed true love to him yet?"

She started to say something but he beat her to it.

"I figured I wasn't the first, but I intend to be the last. She's found a real man now. I'll keep her in line."

I enjoyed her frown for a second.

"I bet that's what her first said. Hope you got a good job, the bitch is high maintenance. Her favorite saying is 'I want', and if you've ever put your hand in snow you'll get an idea of how cold your bed will be until she gets what she wants. Now piss off, and never come here again. In fact, if you can get the slut to never speak to me again, I'll make it worth your while. Since we split up, I've met some real hotties. Next time she cuts you off or calls you little dick, give me a call. I'll see if I can't hook you up. I'm surprised really, when she told me about you she said your dick isn't anywhere near as big as mine. You're just going to be easier to control, and if she wants bigger, she'll start trolling. She's done it to me three times and I was clueless. Think about it."

I put my hand on my zipper.

"Wanna see it, honey, just once more for old times sake? When I walk away it goes with me. It'll just be little dick here, and your vibrators until you find someone bigger."

She was furious. People leaving could hear the conversation and were grinning like mad. She was so red in the face I was afraid[hoping]she was going to stroke out on me. Little Dick had finally had enough.

"I'm gonna kick your ass!' he screamed as he opened the door. I was standing just out of reach, and when he put his leg outside, I grabbed the door with both hands and shoved as hard as I could. He wasn't expecting it, and I heard a crunch and he screamed.

I backed up and pulled out my phone, hitting 911. Soon the cops showed up, then the ambulance. He had a hairline fracture on both bones in his lower left leg. They talked to witnesses I'd asked to stay around, and after the third person told them he had threatened me they just filled out a report. My soon to be ex was furious when she found out I wasn't going to get arrested.

"Why aren't you going to arrest him?," she screamed at the cop.

"What for ma'am? As far as I can tell, he never threatened violence, and so far it's still legal to insult someone. Your friend told him he was going to hurt him when he got out of the car, and he acted in self defense. Maybe you'd like to go to the hospital now, check on your friend."

He turned to me. "Would you like a restraining order against them? It would be fairly easy when they read my report. Might save you some grief down the road."