DeniseToday, a tweet by Mindy Kaling got my attention. The tweet read “If a girl ever leaves jewelry or an item of clothing at your house after she spends the night, it is never, ever, ever an accident.” I know that she’s right, and I’m now inspired to write about the top ways I’ve found out I was being cheated on. You’ll see why at #5. So here they are in no particular order:
1. In the car with a mutual friend, singing along with “Always the Last to Know” by the band Del Amitri, the friend says “Yep, you’re always the last to know.” When pressed, the friend verified that yes, he was telling me that my BF was seeing someone else, but he wouldn’t say who. I asked the BF, who gave it away quite easily.
2. An acquaintence overheard me lamenting to a friend that things weren’t going well with the BF, and she piped up with the information “He’s with Sasha now. I thought you knew that.” (Yes, same guy as #1. I don’t learn quickly).
3. During a hug with a BF, I could feel scabs through his shirt. So I walked around to his back, lifted up his shirt, and saw ginormous scratches. (Not the same guy as 1 & 2). I asked who did it, and he told me. I had to see her every day (in the same Love & Rockets t-shirt pretty much every day) in Spanish class.
4. I had a hunch that another girl wasn’t ”just a friend,” so I asked her best friend if anything was going on between the two of them. She said no, but I could tell she was lying. So then I pushed it: I told her that I had gotten a sexually transmitted disease from the guy (total lie), and that she should tell her friend if there was even a remote chance so she could be treated. Well, that did it. She crumbled like a stale cookie. (It went something like this: Oh, poor “____”. She really believed him too that you two were broken up and that he wanted blah, blah.blah . . .”).
5. My personal favorite: Driving in my car after a boyfriend had borrowed it, I noticed on the gear shift a pair of thin, HUGE, hootchie-mama gold hoop earrings. And by huge, I mean the circumference of bangle bracelets, which is what I thought they were until a closer inspection.
So, gentle readers, I invite you to share your stories. Especially people who were screwed over by women (my exes are welcome to contribute, as long as they don’t use my name), as I don’t want to imply that only men are capable of being scummy.
