I was dating, well sleeping with, this guy I liked, pretty consistently. I would get off work, he'd be out with the boys, I'd call and say "scoop me from my outing, let's chill." "Let's chill" was really code for let's have amazing sex. We'd lay in the bed for hours teasing each other's bodies, and when we were done, we'd share stories about how we wanted more out of life.
Things were progressing nicely, then one Sunday things took a sharp left turn. I was at his house for Sunday dinner, and there was a knock at the door. This cute little chick walks in, googly eyeing him and he hugs and kisses her ON THE LIPS! He says to her, "welcome home babe, I missed you!" Turning to me he says, "this is my friend &@$@, she's just joining for dinner. Meet my wife @$&&@." I can't believe what's happening, but in the moment I'm just trying to not look dumb and keep my composure.
Wait a minute...Did this dude just say wife?! Where the fuck are the pictures? Where was his ring?! This lady didn't even try to decorate this place one bit to even leave a hint. How did I miss that this man belonged to someone else?! How?! All of a sudden, I lost my appetite.
Thrown off my rocker, my mind snaps back to me trying to make sense of what's going on. Why did she knock on the door?!?! The hell I look like knocking on my own door?! I was mentally troubled and discombobulated. All of a sudden I remember my stuff is upstairs in his, well their, room. I pretend my stomach is upset, and excuse myself to use an isolated bathroom upstairs.
This dude is so calm, and I'm completely blown.
I go upstairs. I don't see my shit, but guess what I do see? Pictures of this never before seen wife! I'm furious, afraid, and just flat out saddened by the entire situation. I see the guest bedroom door is open and notice my things. I grab my things, and actually do go into the bathroom, but only to release a quick anxiety attack. I'm extremely upset with myself. I wonder, "why didn't I blow his cover?" And quickly remind myself, "because she will kill you, duh 🙄!"
I plead to God to help me figure out how to escape. I've been gone for 20 minutes now, somebody is going to come looking for me in a few. I'm still ashamed that I'm pretending to have to take a shit, but I'm trying to map out an escape plan. How does it look, me taking a bag downstairs that I didn't come upstairs with? I look through my things, and decide I don't need half of this shit anyway. Where's my purse?! I remember I left it in the trunk. Good! I tell myself eff all of this stuff, let's just go.
I return downstairs to the two of them exchanging laughs at the dinner table. I think to myself, what would be a normal thing to do? I decide to sit down. My mind is yelling at me, "BITCH GET OUT OF HERE!" His wife is oblivious though and carries on a conversation asking me about things to do, and places to go in the area. I wonder, "where is this woman's intuition?!" But I'm grateful she doesn't have any or I'd be dead. I think to myself God must've blocked it, because He knew I didn't have a clue this guy was married.
Then I weirdly get turned on by the whole scenario and quickly remember karma is a bitch and you better haul tail. I never developed an appetite to eat nor do I like my men of satisfaction married. After a few fake laughs, I finally make my exit and break up with the man who got one over on me. I never heard from him again other than his continued likes on social media.
Today, his ass is blocked.
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