Stunning Acts of Revenge
Whenever my phone rings at 3 in the morning, it makes me nervous. And for good reason, since no conversation I’ve ever had at any wee hour has ever been good news (except for the occasional booty call from my then-boo back in college, but that’s a different kind of walk down memory lane).
The last time it happened, it wasn’t either.
“Hello?” I whispered in one of those cantankerous, it’s-3-am-so-don’t-expect-light-hearted-chit-chat voices.
No one said anything on the other end, but I could make out one distinctive noise: heaving and sobbing. I know that sound all too well. I waited for a minute, then gently pressed with another “hello” before my friend finally managed words to share the worst news that a woman could get besides finding out that Real Housewives was going off the air: her fiancé was cheating. And she found the proof herself.
A few days later, she sent out a text message to their 32-person bridal party to 1) update them on the cancellation of the wedding and 2) inform them that he had a nasty sexually transmitted disease, a 4-inch penis, and frequent bouts with erectile dysfunction.
We all cry when some rancid, cheating man breaks our hearts. But some of us can cry and devise a sinister plot against said dirtbags at the same time. In the heat of being scorned, it’s a natural reaction to want to get back at the loser who did you wrong. I’d like to write some words of caution about the legal ramifications of being spiteful, some thoughtful perspective on “being the bigger person” and not stooping to a level of pettiness, some inspirational words of encouragement full of clichés like “you can do better” and “someone more deserving will come along.”
Yeah, yeah, yeah. Heck with all that. Sometimes it just feels good to get revenge and worry about the consequences later. Like this:
And of course, this:
I guess we have lying, low-down men to thank for a few things. Without unfaithful jackasses, Mary J. Blige and Keyshia Cole wouldn’t have much to sing about, we wouldn’t go crazy over the scene when Bernadine sets her doggish hubby’s car ablaze in Waiting to Exhale, “Before He Cheats” wouldn’t be such a classic man-hating song, and we wouldn’t be able to shock the hell out of folks with the crazy, creative handiwork of a woman scorned.
If you caught your man cheating, would you take the high road or would you take a stab at revenge?