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Cunt! Bitch! Motherfucker! Prick!

Hello DonutsHarsh words, indeed. Words I quite honestly never say, especially that ugly “C” word. It’s so coarse. But on that May morning, in a tiny donut shop in Sawyer, MI, those words spewed from my mouth with vengeance and anger. They seemed apropos.

I came face-to-face with B. and his new love interest, the woman he dumped me for the previous summer. By complete happenstance. In a village with a population of 2600.

Many of you warned against me vacationing over Memorial Day weekend near the area where B. lives. I was with my husband and we quite enjoyed our visit, staying in a quaint cottage. I’d heard that the baked goods at the “Hello Donuts” shop nearby were not to be missed, so I rose early, let my husband sleep in, and made my way to the little store with the big reputation.

I was waiting in line to order when in walked the happy couple. My heart sank as did my chin onto my chest. There was B., his salt-and-pepper hair looking saltier than I’d seen it the previous October on our last day together. His girl was also gray, perhaps 60ish, and not attractive. (That he’d at least traded down in the looks department was some consolation.) Then his startled double-take and one question: “Well, what brings YOU to town?” Not wanting to start up a conversation (nor have to meet his woman) I answered — truthfully and matter-of-factly — “I am here with my husband renting a cottage for the holiday weekend.”

Under his breath, barely perceptible, I heard his disbelief: “Yeah, riiighht. With your husband.” Maybe he thought I was stalking him. Maybe he thought I was in the area with a new lover. I didn’t care what he thought. Neither was true.

But, boy, it lit my powder! The expletives flew from my mouth, all the pent-up anger and resentment at how he ended our decades-long affair: 10 cryptic words in an email sent months earlier. 

I fled the donut shop in a huff, B. and his gray-haired hag in close pursuit. They followed me to my car as I continued to assault B. with my words. He deserved the tongue-lashing for the shitty way he left me. “Motherfucker! You fucking prick! I carry you for all these years [of his troubled marriage and, then, several years of separation], and you cheat on me with THIS bitch?” And then I turned to the woman who replaced me:

And you’re a cunt!” 

Now there is shouting in both directions. I hear her voice for the first time: she says my name in a lame attempt to calm things down. (How does she know my name? I don’t know hers.) And there it is: it rolls out of her mouth laced with a foreign accent. Score one in her favor. “P., caulm dune!” she suggests in that undeniably pretty brogue. “Leed’s taalk aboot thees.”

Talk about what, exactly, you ugly, old bitch?, I think to myself. I make a move to get into my car to extricate myself from the scene, but the witch throws her body against the driver’s side door preventing my escape. I tap 9-1-1 on my cell phone and am about to press DIAL when I give her one warning: “Back off my car, cunt, or I’m calling the police.” “Goo aheed! Cawl thee pooleece!” she says with a nod back over her shoulder to B. who is standing there (not surprisingly) ineffectually. She’s smart enough to back off. B. makes no attempt to restrain her or to mitigate the ugly episode. He looks, frankly, bewildered and more than a little sad. 

A few more expletives and I peel out of the small parking lot, finally on my way. Without donuts, but with the definite realization that B. had moved on. 

Back at the cottage, I quickly stripped naked, attacking my husband with a passion he will never understand. I came hard multiple times. B. never once entered my mind.

 

Categories: Affair Affairs Break-ups Infidelity Marriage MI Michigan Three Oaks

Tagged as:

Exit 4A

A former mistress (26 years, on-and-off) describes the good, the bad, and the ugly of her long-term affair. Conclusion: Affairs aren't necessarily destructive if kept in the correct perspective. Our experience enhanced BOTH our marriages.

That is, until his marriage ended and we began to love each other. When the affair morphed into a relationship, well, that's when it stopped being fun for me.

For 26 yrs we luxuriated in implicit Trust. When B. cheated on ME, it was the first time another person came into our relationship besides our respective spouses.

We have now irrevocably split.

6 replies

  1. I have been following this story almost since it’s inception. This latest post is the most painful to read, and considering what’s gone down that’s saying something! But my mind always circles back to the same thought: he was married. You were sleeping with someone’s husband. You had to know you were playing with fire. And I know it was 28 years and I know the marriage was over, but the fact remains you were the mistress. He certainly should have been kinder to you but as his mistress he probably didn’t feel he owed you much. You placed yourself in a very dangerous place. And I’m not judging. I’m on your side. There but by the grace of God, etc.

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