Even if my friends hadn't told me many times, I still would know that I'm a prick. I don't think I used to be a prick, but when I got even with my wife, apparently I went too far. You see, it all started about 15 years ago.
Tricia (short for Patricia) and I met during our junior year of college. I was an engineering major and she was majoring in public relations and communications. We dated for two years and then married three months after we graduated. We were both 23 years old. People told us we made an attractive couple. I was 6'2" tall, weighed 190 pounds and have brown hair. Tricia was 5'6" tall, weighed 120 pounds and was blond. She measured in at 34 (C cup)-24-36. I thought she was the hottest woman I had ever dated.
Our sex life was outstanding. She seemed to initiate and enjoy sex as much as I did. We made love everywhere - inside, outside, in the car, on the bike trail, and even in a restaurant. She was a very vocal lover and that even got me more excited.
We settled in to our lives as a married couple. I worked at an architectural and engineering firm in the Baltimore suburbs and she worked for a PR firm downtown. Her parents lived in Washington D.C. and mine lived in Harrisburg. My dad was also an engineer and my mother was a teacher. Tricia's dad was a minister and her mother was also a teacher.
After six years of marriage, we had a three year old daughter and a one year old son. We lived in a nice home in the suburbs and seemed to be the typical American middle class family. I knew I would be happy living the rest of my life with Tricia and raising our two children. How fuckin naïve can a person get?
Over the next year, Tricia worked late a few nights, but since her job included meeting with clients, I never gave it a second thought. I picked up the kids and had them in bed when she got home. About that same time, she stopped initiating sex and even rejected my advances at least once or twice a week.
Shortly after our seventh anniversary, Tricia told me that she would need to begin traveling for the company. She and Bonnie had to fly to Atlanta to meet with a customer for a few days. No problem; I could handle the kids and still make it to work. She called to let me know she made it and then I didn't hear from her again until she came back home two days later. Unfortunately, my urge to get laid that night wasn't in sync with hers not to get laid.
Over the next couple of years, Tricia traveled at least once a month. Most of the time her trips were just two or three days, but a few times, they extended out to five days. According to her, Bonnie traveled with her to visit all of the clients. During that time, our sex life virtually dried up. I guess I was just so busy with the kids and job that I was stupid to not figure it out quicker.
But at some point, it clicked that something was wrong. On her next trip out of town with Bonnie, I called the company and asked the receptionist the name of Tricia's hotel and who was with her. The receptionist gave me the name of the hotel and said, "As usual, Tony is with her to meet with the clients."
I hired a PI and told him that I would notify him whenever Tricia had to work late or travel. I called him almost a dozen times over the next 60 days.
During that same period, I converted money from our accounts into cash and opened a safe deposit box for it. I copied all of her travel receipts for the past two years and documented the dates of her travel.
Finally, I called my old high school friend Scott Clausen who worked at Tricia's company in the IT Department. We met for beers and I asked if he could tell me who had traveled with Tricia over the past two years. This was a little tricky because Scott knew I was asking him something illegal. However, Scott wasn't necessarily concerned with legalities and ethics, so for $5,000 and the promise that he would remain anonymous, I learned that Tony traveled with her 14 times and Mark traveled with her 5 times.
At the end of two months, I had receipts, photos and even statements from co-workers from the past two months. But the real piece-de-la-resistance was the videos. My PI had videos of her going into motels with both Mark and Tony. He had several videos taken through the curtains of her getting fucked by Tony, a 39 year old white man and Mark, a 27 year old black man.
She could clearly be heard screaming and moaning her lovers' names. When she came, she came loudly. She cursed her husband (me) and begged her lovers to fuck her and let her suck their big cocks. She told them they were better lovers than me. There were excellent shots of her kissing her lovers in the doorways of the motels.
When I had all the evidence, I sat in my living room watching my kids play on the floor while their mother worked late again. I was guessing that tonight's work involved Mark, but I would know for sure when my PI checked in tomorrow. I was done kicking myself for being so naïve and stupid, so I began plotting my revenge. This was probably the point when I became a prick.
The following week, Tricia called on Wednesday and said she had to work late. I said, "No, you won't work late tonight. You need to come home right after work because we need to talk."
"We can talk when I get home later, but I'm working late," she yelled before hanging up. Any guilt that I might have been harboring over my plan quickly evaporated.
When she came in the door around 10:00, she knew the kids were in bed so she gritted her teeth and said, "What the hell is the matter with you telling me to come home? Who do you think you are? And what in the hell are all those big envelopes?"
I smirked at her and said these are addressed to your parents, your brother, your sister, your boss and your best friend. The last one is for you. Check it out. I'll be in the kitchen having a beer. As I sat in the kitchen grinning and sipping my beer, I thought of the contents of each envelope: more than 50 photos of Tricia and either Mark or Tony kissing or fucking, a timeline of her travels and who had traveled with her each time, travel receipts and three CDs of her fucking Mark and Tony.
It was over an hour before she slinked into the kitchen. As I looked up at her, I believe I saw genuine remorse and sadness. She had tears on her face and she said, "I'm so sorry. I . . . "
"Stop," I said. "I don't care whether you're sorry or not. I'm going to give you a choice to make and you can think about it over night. I want your answer in the morning. Do you understand?"
"But I don't . . . "
"Yes or no!" I quietly said. She looked down at the floor and quietly whispered a yes.
"OK. Choice number one is that you will give up complete control of your body to me. I will own you and can do anything I want with you. I can have anyone I want to fuck you. Your body will be my property. In return, you get to stay here and help raise our children."
"I won't ever . . . "
"Choice number two is that you say no to choice number one and I mail these envelopes tomorrow and begin divorce proceedings against you. When the courts see the evidence, I believe they will award custody of the children to me."
"How dare you . . . "
I stood up and walked to the door saying, "If I don't have your answer by 8:00 tomorrow morning, the envelopes get mailed. You can sleep in the guest room tonight."
