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My wedding day
January 8, 1977Brea, California |
. . . my husband cheated on me after only six months of
marriage. She wasn't just any "other" woman -- she was the girl he
had been dating before he started dating me, the short, squatty, big-butted,
long-waisted, flat-chested, garishly poodle-permed hairdoed to match his garrish
poodle-permed hairdo girl who once feigned rape to garner his sympathy once he
dumped her and started dating me, the other woman.
Debbie D-----s, who had taught him all she knew (pathetically
little) about fucking, as had befallen upon her the honor of being only the
second person he had ever fucked, save the 35-year-old police dispatcher
divorcee who threw herself at him, a 21-year-old police cadet and virgin, for
naught -- he couldn't get it up.
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