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Cameron Frye Headshot

You Should Tell a Girl You're Married... Before You Sleep With Her

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I slept with a married guy.

I wish I could say this was a one-time thing, but it's not the first time I've been the other woman. I'm not proud of it and I don't know why I'm always the lucky girl this happens too. It's not like I didn't come from a good home, my parents love each other and never had any major martial problems. I'm sure if Hank (my Dad) did step out on Nora (my Mom), she would stab him in his sleep -- plus, they would never be able to afford two divorce lawyers. No, after 40-something years of marriage, they're still painfully in love and they still kiss before my Dad leaves for work in the morning. It's adorable.

I hate them and their happiness.

I've lost 300 pounds (21 stone) and I'd like to think I don't have to make the same mistakes I made when I was the size of a manatee. I want to find that one person who accepts me -- for the good and the bad and sticks by my neurotic ass no matter what -- whether it's God awful and going down like the Hindenburg or when everything is perfect and we're tip-toeing thru the tulips.

Sorry, I had the weird urge to listen to Tiny Tim and you need to suffer along with me.

If only I could be that cold, heartless beast who feels nothing. Life would be so much easier. Not really, but you know what I mean. As much as I don't see myself as the marrying kind(lies), the idea of dying alone and unloved is scary and the funny thing is -- these thoughts never popped in my head or bothered me when I was a cow like creature roaming around beautiful downtown Boston. For whatever reason, since losing the weight, I want more out of life.

I don't want to be the hose bag side dish, who settles. I want it all. *bangs head* It's embarrassing. I wish I wasn't like this. I wish I could lock up these feelings and throw away the key. But I can't. I have to own it and deal with it.

Can you reprogram an evil (yet adorable) woman overnight, so she forgets all the horseshit stuff from the past and sticks to what she's good at? Being cold, funny and not caring about being alone?

No? Thanks for nothing.

Now, before you start judging me on my selection of men, I didn't know he was married. The man in question didn't wear a ring and he sold me a false bill of goods. Found out that "his place" was actually his friend's place. He's just watching it while his friend is working in China. He redid everything to make the apartment look like his! He went so far as swapping out his friend's pictures for his!

OK, so that is probably something a crazy person does -- but he did it and surprisingly enough, I thought he was normal. Needless to say, I'm a horrible judge of character.

In a weird, sick way, I'm flattered he did all that to get me. But that's also something a crazy person says. Once again, horrible judge of character -- I'm sure Mary Jo Kopechne's mom was a lot like me.

"You want to go to a party and the Kennedy boy will drive you home? That sounds lovely, tell Teddy I said 'H!'"

So I guess I should share with you how I found out.

We had gone out on a few dates and started sleeping with each other as soon as humanly possible. I move quickly -- I know, I know. I shouldn't. Thanks for the lecture, Mom! Listen, I liked him and I knew the feeling was mutual -- so why not rush into something and potentially ruin it with sex?

That's healthy, right?

We were at "his place" and we had just finished up. It was late, and he had just popped into the bath for a shame shower when his phone started to ring.

"Can you get that?"

And that's when it went downhill. See, he got cocky and thought he was in the clear. It's a rookie mistake and let's face it -- we've all made them.

I hadn't gotten the sentence "He's in the shower, can I take a message?" out of my mouth, before the women on the other end of the phone started freaking out.

"Who the fuck is this? I knew that motherfucker was up to something! Tell that asshole that his WIFE wants him home right now, because he needs to get up early tomorrow and start looking for a good lawyer! "

Me -- "Yes, ma'am."

"Fuck you, whore!" *dial tone*

Well, that was uncalled for.

I fought back the urge to call her back, scream at her and explain my side of the story. But since I didn't want to be hunted down by a more than likely unstable woman and die a painful death, I decided against it. I mean, she did have a right to be mad. I would be too. But it's not my fault he's a fool with amazing taste in side pieces.

I sat for a minute or two in shock and then he walked out of the bathroom, completely clueless to what just occurred.

"Was that my office?"

"No," I said and smiled. I got up, gave him a kiss and punched him in the stomach.


I often wonder what causes a person that starts speaking in tongues, but that's the best way to describe the verbal bashing I gave him. I cursed him out. I cursed out his parents for raising him poorly. I cursed his wife out for giving him a reason to cheat and for cursing me out. I followed that up with another punch to the gut and throwing a lamp at him on my way out. Probably overkill, but I didn't want to leave any stone (or lamp) unturned.

He's called a couple times since the proverbial shit hit the fan. I've been ignoring his calls, mainly because if I answer the phone I'll more than likely have the urge to throw it against a wall and I'm not eligible for an upgrade until the summer. IPhones & Lumias are expensive.
I thought everything was supposed to be easier when you got skinny? Lies, all lies! Listen, I know life wasn't going to be magical and wonderful when I got to my goal size - but seriously? I have to deal with this nonsense now? I just want my day in the sun and not have to deal with this bullshit constantly. Evidently my weight loss turned me into one of those insufferable Taylor Swift creatures who are awful human beings and impossible to deal with. I missed the whole thing about losing weight turns you into a moron.

The funny thing is, if my life was rainbows and sugar-free lollipops, I'd complain about how bored I was.


Mind you I'm typing this piece out while wearing Cynthia Rowley, playing with my talking Chewbacca doll and listening to Graham Coxon's most recent record.

I'm a complicated woman. Maybe that's my problem? Hardly, I'm an asshole who's asking for too much.