Oh, I forgot to tell you- I’m married (Part 2: the conclusion)


So there I was in the bathroom of my former job, looking at myself in the mirror. With tears rolling down my face, body temperature running high, feeling enraged, and defeated all at the same time.

In my mind I thought, why me? Why did he choose me to be the one to reach out to? I’m sure there are plenty of women that would have happily played the role as side chick. He could have set up an Ashley Madison account and had his cake and eaten it too. So, why did he decide to do the complete opposite route? Why did he go after a single, romantic girl, like me- only to fill my head with lies and then leave me with the hurt? The unfortunate truth is, I will never know. After a while I splashed some water on my face, walked out the bathroom and went back to work. There was nothing I could do but to continue on my journey for romantic love.

I started talking to C_Tinder in the summer of 2017. He was a cute Puerto Rican, from Brooklyn. We spoke for about a week via the app then eventually we exchanged contacts. We would text throughout the day and some nights. At the time I was talking to multiple men so my focus wasn’t quite drilled into noticing the times and/or frequency of our communication, only thing I remember was that it was decently consistent. One Sunday in the summer, we happened to be talking a lot. I was downtown in Soho shopping and he mentioned that he worked not too far from where I was. So I figured, take a chance and see if he wanted to meet, so I texted him. I wasn’t quite expecting a yes; but I was hopeful, that if he really wanted to, he would meet me. I popped into Vosges, on Spring Street (which I just found out, as I write this post is closed- MY HEART JUST BROKE AGAIN!) to grab some chocolates and wait for an answer. After about 20 minutes and no response, it was clear he didn’t want to meet. I ate my chocolate and was on my way. I didn’t think about him again for weeks.

Then guess whom I get a text message from… C_Tinder. A casual ‘hey how you been?’ as if nothing happened. With a glance at my phone and a roll of my eyes I ignored the first text. An hour later he texts me again, ‘Hey-I really miss talking to you, I’d like to meet up’. I replied that I was in Jamaica and he’d have to wait until I got back to New York to discuss anything. We continued to text daily while I was away. It was easy conversations: about work, travel, food, and he gave me tons of compliments on my body and how sexy I was (much eye-rolling was done on my end as I have heard it all before from talking to men online). A compliment is nice, but after a while it gets annoying as fuck and it becomes a turn off especially since it’s very superficial.

 Upon my return we agreed to meet up the following week. So back in New York we’re texting regularly again and the conversation begins go from G to PG-13. By now I had posted all my vacation photos on IG and I had no problem sharing them. My friend (shout out to Melissa) took some bomb images of me; it was safe to say, I was feeling myself. My weave was looking right, my bathing suit was highlighting my #melanin and the angles were on point. So of course I updated my online profile with the images, and of course he saw them. The compliments on my complexion, thickness, smooth looking skin continued to pour out like a broken faucet. He mentioned how if I was his girl how he’d love to see me cooking in some lingerie when he got home (this has always been a secret fantasy of mine by the way) so I eagerly engaged in this verbal fantasy exchange. Naturally you can assume the conversation leads to insatiable fantasy sex… blah, blah, blah. This exchange goes on for about another week until I begin to get annoyed.

So are we meeting or not? I ask him, flat out.

He says yes- lets meet this weekend – Game On!

The next day I text him and I don’t get a response, which was weird. So not wanting to waste my time any further. I do what I probably should have done a long time ago. I call his ass and he doesn’t answer. My reaction is to delete our text messages and I’m about to block his ass when I get a text back from him and to my surprise;

Its His Fucking Wife!

In just one text I was called a bitch, slut, hoe, home wrecker, anything that goes through your mind to degrade me… I was called it all. She also let me know that, not only was he married, that they also had a kid together.

Now, I could have gotten all ignorant and fed into the bullshit arguing back and forth with her but I put myself in her shoes. Many women, when they find out their man is cheating or acting horribly they attack the woman. I never understand why, because as we all know men (and women) lie; but they always do. So I decided to show her my receipts. I explained that I started talking to him online, his profile said he was single, and to prove it, I screenshot his profile page and sent it to her as proof that he was a dog. She thanked me and I didn’t hear from her again.

A week later I got a text from an unknown number ‘hey, wassup’. I’m still talking to men online so I had to confirm whom it was and I couldn’t believe that his ass had the nerve, the audacity, and the unmitigated gall to actually text me again. Like seriously! – I thought I was being punked (Where’s Ashton Kutcher?), but it was in fact his ass, again. Acting like nothing was wrong. Now, whether or not his wife confronted him that day I will never know but it blew my mind how he could be so fucked up. So I called him out.

“Tell your wife I said, hi” Of course, he denied it and said I was mistaken and that he wasn’t married. At that point I didn’t care if he was married, single, or dead. I was done with him. I told him to go to hell and lose my number, and then I blocked that number.

For the record- It is messy cheaters like V_OKC & C_Tinder that lead to this phenomenon of a messy side chick. Like I said before; there are many women in the world that will contently have affairs with married men. They sleep with married men knowing their place is: in the bedroom, the hotel room, her apartment, and on weekends while the wife is out of town. She knows that her name Paula is stored under Paul and she knows to text only at certain hours, and most importantly they know that they will never replace the wife. They know that his affections, intimacy, romance is on borrowed time. They know that he will never leave his wife.

But these messy cheaters, these scum of the earth men- they fill women’s heads with lies, they fill us with the hope that our search for love and our happy ending is near. They make us believe we have finally found someone nice, caring and worthy. And then they drop the bomb, when they finally confess or we find out that it was all a hoax.

Can you really blame a chick for acting crazy at that point? Her head and her heart were just fucked with royally and she’s just supposed to walk away? Michelle Obama said, “When they go low-we go high” and as much as I love we some FLOTUS Obama, I have to kindly disagree.

Nah fam! He’s not getting off that easy!

I will choose to blow up his spot! Not a little bit but all the way up (Fat Joe voice)!

  1. Call his phone at the most inconvenient times.
  2. Screenshot the conversations and his profile page
  3. Send the evidence at all hours of the day and night.
  4. And go to sleep- like a newborn baby!

I will do this, not because I want him to leave her and be with me. No- I don’t want a messy cheater! I will do this because he has to hurt too. His woman has to have an insurmountable amount of proof that he can’t lie, fuck and/or buy his way out of. She needs to know the man she has at home, he has to be exposed, punished, and he has to feel some kind of hurt. The fear of God has to be put in him and then maybe, just maybe he’ll know to never-ever fuck with another woman’s head and/or heart again.

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