I was at the gas station last night getting something to munch on. I come out and this guy is about to walk in as I’m walking out. A truck screams into parking lot, a great big mammoth throws himself out of it.“You cock sucker, you think I wouldn’t fucking find out what you’ve been doing with my fucking wife!”
“took you long enough what the fuck we were doing”
“I’m going to fucking take care of you, mother fucker…on Monday night …at the bar”
“yeah, see you then, asshole”
Anger, a great motivator. The problem I have with this particular exchange was that I think it wasn’t anger about the people involved, but the situation. There are two choices when a guy finds out that his partner has been cheating:
1) Walk away – that’s what I did three years ago. I saw no point in sticking around. I packed up all my stuff, put it in storage and left. While I was hurt, I didn’t get angry. My blindness to what was going on miffed me a little, but not enough to let anyone know in any physical sense that I felt anything. I didn’t get mad at her, she obviously found that I wasn’t what she wanted – it’s not her fault, it was just unfortunate that she chose not to let me know sooner.
2) Get angry and kick some ass. Find the guy and beat him up, or depending on the other guy’s physical build, get your ass kicked. Either way, make a scene.
So I expected when I heard “you think I wouldn’t fucking find out…” I assumed that there was going to be an exchange of fists and some blood. I know it’s a cheap thrill, but without cable I can’t even watch boxing so I have to look for other things to get my kicks. Did that happen? No. they made a date! I get the feeling that obviously the hurt the guy felt wasn’t exactly heart ache. It was an ownership issue. If it was such a deep hurt then wouldn’t he beat the hell out the other guy now? He wasn’t hurt that a person he thought of as a partner had cheated on him, he was hurt that something that was HIS was used by someone other than himself.
I almost want to go to the bar to see how things go. I have this vision of the two of them in the bar:
“Alright, I’m here…let’s do this.”
“Damn straight…it’s happy hour, maybe we’ll do it when the prices go back up.”
“Alright…but after I’m going to kick your ass” A couple of hours pass. “Ready to die, you goddamn…hey, there’s a pool table open…how about ONE game and then I’M GONNA KICK YOUR ASS!!”
Several hours pass and it’s last call. “Shit, look at the time, I gotta work in the morning, how about you and I finish this tomorrow, mother fucker!!”
“Sounds good to me, by the way, tomorrow, you’re buying the first round.”
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