“In college, I met the woman who I thought was my one. We dated for about 2 years and had a big wedding after a 10-month engagement, her family was pretty well to do in a small southern town. We were both continuing our educations and I was also working to support us. I was pursuing a master’s in engineering while she was finishing her doctorate in anthropology.
Over the summer, an opportunity came up for her to make some extra money going as an aid on a religious studies trip to Jamaica. I didn’t hesitate when she asked me about it, I mean, she was going to get to visit Jamaica and get paid for it, I saw no downside other than missing her being at home for 6 weeks.
Little did I know at the time, but she had been sleeping with the professor (he had hung out with us, smoked my weed, and drank with me; I considered him a friend) who arranged the trip for a couple of months and it was a getaway for them to bang all over the island. I, clueless and happy, went about the weeks while she was gone taking extra shifts, so I could match what she made in our account and surprise her.
What a dummy, right?
One of the students from the trip actually sought me out to clue me in. I didn’t believe him until I started looking for evidence on my own. I broke down and checked her texts while she was sleeping and nothing was there. There were a few voicemails, so I decided to listen, and there it was… A message from that giant prick saying how exciting it was that I almost caught them. I opened up her laptop and hit the emails after that, it was piles and piles of stuff, them making fun of me for not knowing, messing around in our bed, and laughing about it. There was so much and I was so heartbroken.
Still too hurt to take any action, I was lost. I had no idea what to do, so I sat on it for a couple of weeks and acted as normally as I could, I noticed everything now, I felt SO stupid for not seeing it before. So many signs. One stuck out in particular.
I noticed that our stash of homemade weed lubricant was going down even though we weren’t active. It was obvious they were also using the fruits of my labor to get off more effectively. This really ticked me off. Like unreasonably so, Hulk mad. It finally all hit me. I was nothing but a joke to these imbeciles, and they were using the lubricant I made and sleeping in my bed. I didn’t hurt anymore, I just wanted to make them hurt.
So, while she was ‘studying at the library,’ I made a new batch of lubricant. I put enough weed in it for it to smell like normal, but I also added some poison ivy from our backyard to the mixture, and after refilling the spray bottle we used for the application, I waited.
A few days go by and I’m working extra so I can be out of the house more, and bam, bait taken. That night after she goes to sleep my plan goes into action. I sneak her phone away and delete my contact, while replacing his phone number in his contact as mine. I go to bed but can’t sleep because it feels like I’m 5 and tomorrow is Christmas.
Dawn arrives and she’s in the shower. I get a text.
Her: ‘I’m super itchy, are you ok?’
Now Lord now is my time.
Me acting as the Prof: ‘Look, I thought it had cleared up but I guess I had a flare up. I’m sorry, but I’ve got herpes, and I guess you do now too.’
I heard her squeak in the shower. I’m covering my mouth trying not to lose it.
I went on to tell her that it was time to end things now, a new semester was about to start and I kind of have a little crush on another T/A. I wanted her mad, this is a woman that never got told no growing up, and never had to deal with rejection. Let alone from a balding dude in his 50s with herpes.
When she got out of the shower it was obvious she had been crying but I could see the anger in her eyes. I could see how uncomfortable she was squirming at the table drinking coffee and mulling the situation over. Another little nudge is what she needed.
The reply she got to her pages and pages of anger and sadness was: ‘Thanks for the good times, but can you keep this a secret between us? I don’t want to ruin my chances with anyone else.’
She’s flush with anger now, just seething, she gathered her keys and headed out the door without even saying goodbye…
I knew where she was going.
I booted up her laptop and set it to reformat, deleting her dissertation and any notes pertaining to it before following her to campus. I parked a few lots over and rush over to his office where I found her screaming at him for giving her herpes. There are lots of people there. Professors, aids, students, other faculty. I’m dying. He is beyond embarrassed and confused as heck, she is ugly crying in front of her peers, I’m in heaven. I didn’t even care that people were going to think I had herpes too.
The fallout was apocalyptic in their department.
He lost his job due to the code of conduct at the university, we got divorced the following year (state law was we had to be separated for one full year before being granted a divorce), and I got to keep most of the assets (primarily savings, and not a ton, but I worked for it). She never finished her doctorate and went on to be a perpetually pregnant housewife that sells herbalife on Facebook, and he teaches high school now. It took a few years for it all to unfold, but watching it was glorious.”