Still, Sam was having an identity crisis. Her friends were his friends. Everyone in his neighborhood either suspected or knew that she’d been cheating on him, for a long time, he’d come to find out. Everyone it seemed, except him, knew that his wife was banging her personal trainer, a strapping young lad, a former NFL
lineman, a man eight years his junior.
Thanks to gossip and social media, his coworkers discovered the scandal later too.
Every day he’d go to work, see their pitying expressions, the sad and sardonic looks in their eyes.
Worse yet, the personal trainer had moved in with her, and she’d gotten pregnant with the domesticated sasquatch’s demon seed…
Oh, that burned him. Made him think again of shooting the bitch. You see, they’d tried, they tried a few times but never had kids. They’d never been sure why it wasn’t happening and were planning to seek fertility treatment. But then, of course, Sam came home that day and that all went out the window.
Sam was glad, though, that they didn’t have kids, as that’d made things far worse, the divorce far more acrimonious, and he’d happily liquidated his equity in their house after the divorce, and along with his respectable savings, as well as that fat chunk of her secret account he’d siphoned, he was feeling pretty good, financially.
Cancel Culture | Kim Cancer But his conundrum now was what to do? Where to go? Where to live?
Surely, he couldn’t stay there, in his neighborhood. At his job. He’d be forever known as a cuck. A loser. The guy whose wife left him for her personal trainer.
Nah, fuck that. He couldn’t stay. He had to move on to greener pastures.
With his newfound freedom, the financial cushion he had with his big bag of cash, he decided to do something he’d always wanted. Travel. Internationally. To a place he’d always wanted to go. Thailand.
After seeing the movie “The Hangover 2”, he’d secretly dreamed of going to Thailand and partying, getting drunk and banging hookers. Waking up with a chicken or a monkey running around in his hotel room. Maybe even banging a ladyboy.
He wanted to run wild in the Land of Smiles. Have some smiles of his own there.
He’d begun thinking of it more and more, going to Thailand. He started watching porn videos from Thailand and his innermost secret Asian fetish only grew, and he no longer felt guilty that there were times he’d closed his eyes and secretly thought of fucking hot Asian chicks as he fucked his wife.
Sam was starting to be happy the bitch had cheated. They’d gotten divorced. He knew his wife, who didn’t like travel, could never sit on a plane for 16 hours to fly to the other side of the world. Nor would the bitch ever let him, alone, go to a place like Thailand.
“It’s so dangerous! And they don’t speak English! What if we get kidnapped and held for ransom? Or wind up on the internet, beheaded by ISIS?” he could imagine her saying.
She thought of any country outside of America as being a dangerous shithole plagued by car bombings, terrorists in ski masks, and war.
Fucking bitch didn’t even have a passport. And didn’t want one.
But the bitch couldn’t tell him anything now. He was free. He’d gotten his check.
He’d been listening to Bill Burr’s podcast rant about gold-digging whores and felt as if snagging that bag of cash off his ex was a nice little fuck you to all the gold-digging whores that’d extorted cash off dudes. All the lazy bitches who’d gotten crazy alimony payments and robbed men of countless fortunes.
“Mike Tyson, this is FOR YOU!” he thought, sniggering and eying his bulging bank portfolio.