She Cheated So I SI*pt With ALL Of Her Friends.

She cheated, so I slept with all of her friends. My girlfriend cheated, I never let her forget. To this day, a good revenge story gives me a warm, bubbly feeling inside. I believe it comes from this college experience years ago when I got revenge on my cheating girlfriend, and it felt good. I know I'm not supposed to enjoy it, but I can't deny how satisfying it feels. It's probably one of my favorite feelings in the world, even though I'm ashamed to admit it. So, I decided to write my first post about this because I

don't tell the story often. It is so extensive and honestly just makes me look bad. I'm going to try my best to not paint a picture where my ex looks as bad as possible and me as innocent as possible. I want to write this accurately as I can, even if it makes me look bad. Bit of context and backstory: at the time of the story, I played Division 1 NCAA basketball at a school, so I traveled a lot weekly in different cities and states, and my entire life revolved around this. During the events of the

story, I was in the early stages of a horrible substance and alcohol habit. Years after this story, I ended up getting sober and joined a program whose name you can find at the front of almost any phone book. I am sure many people reading this are also sober and will understand how we addict/alcoholics can be. This story is an effort to explain a character defect that manifested from the events in this story that led me down a very dark path. However, I don't mean this story to come off in a self-pity kind of way. Lastly,

I was always a good kid. I was never troubled, my upbringing was very difficult, but I was able to keep an overall kindness in my spirit to other people and almost always did the right thing or took the high road. When it came to dating, I knew people cheated in relationships, but at the time of this story, I always chalked it up to other people not doing things the way I did. I never really thought it would happen to me. I always thought that because I was a five-star boyfriend with my amazing choice in women,

infidelity would never be a part of my dating journey. I was naive, I really thought highly of myself and also had a real arrogance like any guy in his early 20s. I guess the build-up: I was in my junior year in University. I'd been single for about a year after me and my high school girlfriend finally broke up after three years. I checked that relationship off as my learning experience, and I now knew what to look for in my next girlfriend. The next woman I chose to have a relationship with, I would most likely marry

and start my future with. I know I was young and dumb and thought I knew everything lol. I had my eye on this girl at my school, we will call her Lisa. I saw Lisa around the Collegiate Athletic Facility, the university team's training grounds, and locker rooms. Lisa ran for the track team and was damn good. The various athletic teams often had parties, and I knew that the first time I saw her, I would introduce myself and try to chat her up a bit and see where it led. Soon enough, I saw Lisa at one

of these parties, and we passed each other on the stairs. We made eye contact, and she smiled at me. I sparked a conversation with her, and after going back and forth a bit, we exchanged numbers. We began the classic American style of flirting where we constantly just hint things back and forth indirectly. We slowly progressed the relationship in this manner for weeks, sending texts back and forth, hinting that we were interested in each other but also playing it cool to not let the other person know we had a crush on them. At the time, she

was on a break with her current boyfriend, who was a popular player on the football team. She ended up leaving him completely to date me. This should have been a red flag, obviously, but remember I had severe hubris at the time. Her leaving him to date me just gave me a superiority complex. I was playing good in sport, and if she was willing to leave this guy for me, then she would never leave me for another guy. Lmao, I was a fool and an idiot. I can't express how much I was into Lisa. I was

addictively attracted to her and had that weird feeling of "I can't believe my crush is actually into me too." I really was so drowned and blinded by my crush on her, I missed so many red flags. But our relationship began progressing really fast because of this. I didn't really do a proper inventory on why I liked her so much. Fast forward, like eight months later, we are together officially. Lisa has her own athlete's dorm room, but I was a couple years older than her and was working during the summer full-time and part-time during the school

season and had my own apartment near campus. Lisa was basically living with me, she even would stay there when I was out of town, which was like three or four days of every week because we were in season and the team was flying all over the country. Me and Lisa were deeply in love regardless. At the end of the season, I planned two massive back-to-back parties. One was for my teammate's birthday on Friday night, and then my birthday on Saturday night. They just happened to be one day after the other and luckily landed on a.

Friday and Saturday night, me and Lisa got drunk. Friday night, we had some unprotected sex. Lisa kept a period tracking calendar app on her phone. She was asleep, and I drunkenly remembered she always marked down on her calendar when we had unprotected intimacy. So she knew if she should be worried if she missed her period. She missed her period often because she was an athlete. My inebriated brain thought she should put it in her calendar now because we would forget the next day since we were so [__] up. So I woke her up and said,

"Can you put in that calendar that we had unprotected sex?" At this point, it was like 5 a.m., and we were that 5 am kind of drunk where you're mostly just tired. She unlocked her phone, opened the app, and before she could even do it, she fell back asleep. So I took the phone while it was still unlocked and proceeded to try and figure out how to put it in her calendar myself. Side note: throughout our entire relationship, Lisa went through my computer and phone constantly. She was very insecure and always had her suspicions. I

didn't care that she was doing this all the time. She never found anything because I never did shady [__] ever again. Looking back at this, it's an obvious red flag I missed. Remember, I thought this girl would never cheat on me, so this wasn't one of those stories where I went through her phone looking for something and subsequently finding it. In this case, I was innocently trying to navigate this damn period calendar while I was drunk, and I was not suspicious at all. When I looked at the period calendar app on Lisa's phone, I saw

all kinds of little markers on different days of each month. Each marker was a different color. So I opened one to see what the color coding meant. I saw that red was obviously symbolizing her period, and then there were also black markers that showed when she had unprotected sex. This is when my heart sank into my stomach. This FN calendar was peppered with black markers. It looked like a checkerboard with only a handful of red pieces left and all the effing black ones. There were black markers on dates that I was in a different city

playing basketball. I proceeded to open all the black markers going back for our entire relationship. We did not have unprotected intimacy very often. Maybe once or twice a month. She had written the names of the guys she had unprotected intimacy with in the notes section of the black markers. There was a total of four guys throughout the entirety of our relationship that she allowed to penetrate her raw. Some months, there was almost a dozen of those effing black markers. Sometimes there were two in one day. Looking back on this, I wonder if there were more

unlisted men that I didn't see because she clearly only kept track of the guys in time she had unprotected sex. In almost every story I hear of infidelity, it involves the discovery of text messages, being informed by a friend, or the classic coming home early and catching your partner red-handed. I, on the other hand, discovered a f ing well-documented ledger of almost every time she cheated and had unprotected sex. Amongst the four guys I discovered, one of them was her ex that she originally left to date me. Cheating on me with him was a common

occurrence. There was some other unknown guy she was also clearly sleeping with him regularly. The last two fellas looked to be just a one-time thing. But again, like I said, these markers were just the time she had intimacy without a condom. So who knows what the true story was there? I sobered up real quick. I proceeded to look through Lisa's texts and calls and found nothing. However, at the time, Android phones had a folder where you can see deleted texts but not the contents of the messages. She had thousands of deleted texts and calls, but

I couldn't see what they said. But I saw the numbers and did a quick Facebook search and matched one with her ex in addition to something like half a dozen other random dudes. The worst part was I found two of my teammates, one guy I was actually pretty close with. I just put the phone down after a few minutes. The evidence was overwhelming. The more it seemed to look at the phone, the more my insides began to hurt. I felt so defeated. I can't fully describe the feeling, but I'm sure anyone reading this that caught

a significant other cheating knows what I'm talking about. I felt so stupid for trusting her and having no suspicions of her. I couldn't stop thinking about how I regretted all the times that I had an opportunity to cheat and remain faithful to Lisa. I felt like an idiot for not cheating on her when I could have. My loyalty felt like a waste. I know it sounds ridiculous and irrelevant to the fact that she was unfaithful. I think I obsessed over that because if I had cheated as well, I wouldn't have hurt so much in that

moment. All I could think about was how much I was hurt. I would do anything to not feel the pain and embarrassment anymore. Question: Am I the only one who thought this way after catching their partner cheating? I'm curious about this. I proceeded to leave my apartment and go for a long walk. I had never felt the emotions that were coming up and didn't know how to process them. My ego felt like it was literally dismantled in front of me. I wasn't sure what to do when I was too embarrassed to tell anyone my sadness.

Quickly turned to anger. I knew I was gonna get my revenge, I just didn't know how yet. I was seething with rage and wanted to make sure she never recovered from this. My roommate, slash teammate, and best friend at the who was sleeping on the couch in my living room. We will call him Bono. An Eastern European kid who stood seven foot tall and was as Russian in demeanor as you can imagine. He also had an equally ridiculous RL name, hence Bono. Well, Bono called me shortly after I started my walk. I answered and he

asked where I was. I asked him to keep this between us and told him what happened. He stays on the phone and goes into my room, and I hear him in his Russian accent yell at her, "Yo [__], you cheated on up!" Then, I faintly hear her and audibly say something in the background, and him yelling at her to get out of the apartment. After hearing some scuffling, Bono gets back on the line and says, "Yo, she gone. Come back and let's talk." I head back home, and me and Bono go over what had happened.

Things don't get sappy because we are both complete alpha males who both come from cultures where men don't cry, and neither of us really knew what to say or do in this situation. He makes his best attempt to comfort me and says, "Tonight is your birthday. We gonna get [__] up and find you some [__] [__] her. I never liked her anyway." Oh yeah, this day was my birthday. Forgot about that part. Me and Bono go out for breakfast, I am still a little drunk, my phone is blowing up with calls and texts from Lisa.

I tell her I saw everything on her phone, and I can't stand to speak with her or look at her. She keeps trying to convince me to let her come to my birthday party, and I make it clear I don't want her there. She clearly was concerned about exactly what Bono suggested to me earlier when me and him chatted. Lisa's entire reputation and popularity revolved around the fact that she was dating me. I think most people didn't like her in the first place but put up with her because we were together. She knew that if

I acted single at my birthday party and she didn't show up, everyone would know something was askew. I think Lisa was more worried about being embarrassed than our relationship. I don't remember much of what happened that night, but one of my friends sent me a little package for my birthday from California filled with some really good weed, hash, moon rocks, some pills, and the devil's dandruff. And I proceeded to do a glorious swan dive into an intoxicated oblivion. All I remember is sitting on my chair at the pregame for my party. There were two girls

sitting on the arms of the chair, and I still have a photo of that moment, and I remember it vividly. We were preparing to head out. I had a few tables downtown at a popular nightclub. The booze and substances were the only thing that made me feel normal. I had my sun glasses on and clearly had that happy, loaded grin on my face. The longer you look at the photo of me on that chair, you can tell I'm hiding a huge amount of hurt. Sitting on that chair, the cocktail of substances starts to take effect.

This was the first time I ever used substances not to party, but to feel better. To make me feel normal. I remember thinking, "I want to feel this way for the rest of my life. I am never going to hurt like that ever again." With drugs, I have control and no one can hurt me again. Oh how ironic that turns out to be. Years down the line, I told my teammates and friends that me and Lisa were done when they asked why she wasn't at the party. I didn't tell them why, though. I also didn't

show them that I was affected by it in any way and just played it cool. I tried to focus everyone on the party ahead of us. The revenge. So this is one of those revenge stories where it was only half planned. I knew I wanted to get revenge on Lisa for hurting me so much, but I kind of just improvised as opportunities came up. My original kind spirit had died at my birthday on that chair, all my morals went out the window. I never cheated in relationships, therefore I believed I would never get cheated on.

I realized now how dumb that is, but that's what I thought at the time. I didn't care what collateral damage I caused as long as my mission to hurt Lisa as much as possible was accomplished. So continued every day of my life with this new selfish mindset. I was sitting at my computer later that next week, skimming Facebook when I saw the profile of one of her track teammates on my feed. That's when I had my first vengeful idea. I decided I was going to attempt to get her teammates to bite the bait that I

was about to cast out into the water. Though I didn't have proof she hooked up with my teammates, she was clearly trying to hide conversations between them. So, I was going to see how many people who are close to her I could passionately hug. Luckily, I had more options than she had when cheating on me. A women's track team is much larger than a men's basketball team and also much better-looking. Lisa's teammate I originally spotted on my Facebook had a boyfriend, but I thought, clearly, everyone cheats; let's see if it's true. I proceed. To do

the little flirty social media dance with her, you know, the one where I like a couple of her photos, she likes a couple of mine back, I shoot her a message, and Bam, she's at my house in my bed about a week later. I proceed to do something similar to other teammates of hers, all on her 4x4 Relay Team. Coincidentally, two of the three girls I passionately hugged at boyfriends and subsequently cheated on them with me, which gave me some real mixed emotions. It stroked my broken ego and also made me bitter and sad, giving

me one of those "women ain't [__] loyal" attitudes. This is such a typical story of while fighting monsters, I became a monster. This actually became my go-to strategy because it accomplished two things: in my [__] up mind, it exposed a cheater but, more importantly, if they were willing to cheat on their boyfriends, they would A) be more secretive about it, which meant the drama that would ensue when it came out would be elevated, and B) it made me feel better about Lisa cheating because it proved it wasn't me that was the problem, it was women

that were the problem. I know it's [__] up, but that's what I thought back then. I started to collect something from every girl that I hooked up with, like a bra, a pair of panties, or some jewelry, etc. Not for some creepy reason, but this is important later and was a part of my plan. Sometimes I didn't even have to try, one girl left a pair of very distinguishable shoes. I knew Lisa would know whose shoes they were; they belonged to the girl that Lisa's ex-boyfriend rebounded with after Lisa and in broke up, which highly

upset her because it was her friend. Now, it would upset her more because that same girl slept with both of her ex-boyfriends. I especially tried to collect items if it was something that I knew Lisa could distinguish, like a sweater from the women's track team with her teammate's name on it. After some time, I had collected a boatload of [__]. After a couple of months or so, one of Lisa's teammates' boyfriends found out about me and his girlfriend, and it started a big, beautiful, dramatic explosion of series of events with her and her teammates. This

led to all of them finding out about one another's promiscuity; the drama was massive, even their coaches had to get involved. It got so bad, this made me feel so powerful in such an evil yet satisfying way. I fell in love with the destruction I was causing. The most awesome part about all of it was that same week, the Athletics PR team had put massive posters of me all over campus promoting the next game; they were everywhere. Some of the posters took up the entire side of buildings. So Lisa and her friends had to see

me all over campus every day while this drama was erupting all around them. I felt like a triumphant dictator; it was glorious and pathetic at the same time. Their coach even proceeded to have a serious meeting with a compliance department and my team's coaches; my coaches literally laughed at her, saying, "This seems like an internal issue, but Op hasn't done anything illegal or broken any school policy, so there is nothing we can do." This infuriated the women's track coach; their team had fallen apart, their national ranking began to plummet. Then Lisa's coach even got in

trouble for being caught tearing down some of the smaller posters of me on campus and raging temper tantrum. I loved all of it. I continued to add fuel to the fire posting photos of me with girls smiling, being happy, every chance I could on Facebook and Instagram. But under it all, I was bitter. I was so deep into my new mindset, I had already forgotten the kind-hearted, naive kid I used to be. I hated my old self because I let some girl emasculate me. I was so full of self-pity looking back at it's depressing. No

one really knew, though, because I played the cool guy attitude in front of people. There was even a girl on campus on one of the sports teams who claimed that she was pregnant with my kid after I pretended to like her the same way I did with all of the other girls on Lisa's team, and as soon as we passionately hugged, I moved on. It's a long story, but it turned out she wasn't pregnant, but the news or press that came from that further dug the knife deeper into Lisa's side. I left a trail of

women undeceived in relationships I destroyed. I feel bad now, but at the time, I didn't care because they were equally at fault in my eyes since they were cheating on their boyfriends or sleeping with their friend's ex. Quickly, girls became wary of me, plus I was running out of potential targets. [__] I was an awful human being then, the way I was thinking, and I was going after girls that weren't even friends or on the track team with Lisa, but were just around her in daily life. For example, her classmates, as well as her own

family. I even flirted with her sister who was married with a kid, and I almost succeeded; she was down, but her and Lisa's dad found out about it and stepped in and put a stop to all before we could do anything. Her sister was ostracized as the news spread within the family. I wanted Lisa to know I was everywhere and constantly remind her how she [__] up in my eyes. This was all her fault, and she unleashed this fury of chaos upon herself. She should never have [__] with me. Like that, Lisa had to take

an extended medical leave because of her depression and mental health issues. She was experiencing from the whole situation. She was becoming suicidal. She even had to go on medication and lost tons of weight. She began to look extremely unhealthy. The whole mess was torturing her and the more she hurt, the better I felt. At this point, I had already inflicted more damage than she did to me, but I had become addicted to the feeling of power. I spent zero time processing my own emotions or moving on from what happened. All I wanted was more revenge

and I couldn't stop. After weeks of ignoring Lisa's texts and calls, she finally gets a hold of me by showing up to my apartment unannounced late at night. She was there to pick up some stuff she left when she lived there, to take home. She was actually a local and her parents lived close by. She was still on her medical leave and no longer staying on campus, but rather with her parents. I told her I would bring her stuff to her parents' house that weekend, but I couldn't let her in because I had company, which

I did. But it wasn't one of her teammates or friends, unfortunately. I then took all the items I had collected from all the girls over the weeks. There was probably like eight or nine things from different girls, including her teammates, and threw their belongings, along with Lisa's stuff, into big black trash bags. I took the bags to her house and then called Lisa's dad. I told him I left her stuff on his porch and to inform his demon daughter. Me and Lisa's dad actually really got along, and he even took my side after Lisa and

I broke up, but after all these events transpired, he obviously had a negative opinion of me. 15 minutes after I get off the phone with Lisa's dad, I get a call from Lisa. I answer because I wanted to hear her reaction to having all these other girls' items mixed in with hers. She was sobbing uncontrollably. It sounded like that half crying, half mumbling thing people do when they are hysterical. She wasn't even angry, just desperately begging me to stop my tyranny. I just smiled and baked in the glory of hearing her hurt. I responded, "Why

were there other guys in our relationship? You mix them into our relationship like I mixed other girls' items into your ___." It's a perfect little ironic metaphor. I thought it sounded cool at the time and was real proud of myself, face palm. I later found out from one of Lisa's friends who knew she was cheating on me during our relationship that Lisa was convinced I was the one cheating on her because I was always out of town. This doesn't make sense since I was out of town because of basketball, a very legit excuse, not just

randomly on my own accord. You could literally see my schedule on the school's website. I kept in contact with her constantly when I was gone, but obviously when I had practice or her team meetings, I couldn't be on my phone. But she didn't have the logic in her brain to figure this out. I guess I assume it's just an excuse she made to protect her insecurities about the whole fiasco or to keep face with people who knew she was cheating. Months go by, Lisa comes back to school from her medical leave, and we bump into

each other at the physical therapy center in our athlete facility building. I saw this as yet another opportunity. It had been a while since I did something that hurt her, and I was still hungry for more vengeance. I proceeded to pretend like I wanted to rekindle things with her. She was cautious at first, but eventually, bites. After about a week, we start to mend our relationship. We proceed for about a month, but I wouldn't call this a relationship. I forbid her to have any male friends, nor is she allowed to go out and party with

her girlfriends. I also needed full access to all her accounts and her location at all times. It was more like a hostage situation. It gave me a sense of control. Meanwhile, I wasn't being faithful at all. This was my plan all along. Finally, she finds out about me sleeping with a girl in one of her classes, and we have a nasty breakup. I told her that she literally knows what it felt like to be me when we were last dated. Yet again, I felt triumphant. It was just another chance to hurt her and I did.

After this, we don't speak for years. I graduate university and move to Central America. She messages me while I'm there about a year after I moved and about two years after we last spoke. At this point, my life has become that of a real degenerate. I was doing copious amounts of substances daily. About 75 percent of my life was involved in some sort of illegal or nefarious activities, but I still blame her for me becoming the dark soul that I was and taking no responsibility for my bitter, immoral nature. I hadn't had another relationship since

her and always had trouble because I couldn't trust a woman in any capacity anymore. Even after years had passed. I saw this instance of her messaging me as yet another opportunity to hurt her. We begin to talk as friends and even get flirty with each other over Facebook Messenger. Mind you, there are literally many countries, states, and an ocean between us at this point. I was planning a trip back to my old university to visit some friends. However, I told her it was different. Explained to her, I was moving back to the city for a

new job I was just offered. We decide to meet up when I get back and see if there is anything worth saving between us. I had put on my best acting hat and tried to seem like I've put our past behind us. However, I'm just as vengeful now as I was years ago. She's finishing up her last year at University and I make the trip back to the USA. I met Lisa at a coffee shop when I arrived. We spent the entire night together. From her point of view, it really looked like we had moved

past our differences and what happened. We could actually work things out. However, I'm not moving back. Obviously, like I told her, I'm only staying two nights. She doesn't know this. After hooking up a few times and spending two days together without mentioning anything to her about me leaving, I pack my things and get back on a plane back to Central America. I blocked her on all my social media and communication outlets. This time I could only fantasize about what happened to her when I disappeared after she thought I moved back and supposedly was ready to

give our relationship another try. However, it wasn't as satisfying as my previous plots of revenge. My substance habit and lifestyle only got worse every year. Three years later, I was hospitalized and almost died because of my extended substance use. I was never sober a full 24 hours after that day. I went through that effing period calendar looking back. As much pain as I might have caused her with my vengeful life, my new identity that consumed my old one was so tainted with a dark spirit at heart. I think I honestly did more harm to myself

with my actions and led me down the road where I had no morals anymore. Though I spent the entirety of this story telling everyone of how I kept getting revenge on my ex for cheating on me, as satisfying as it was, I wish I would have spent an equal amount of energy healing myself from the incident. If anyone reading this is experiencing the pain that comes with cheating, a good revenge story can bring you some satisfaction. But I hope you don't make the same mistake I did. Rather, spend more time healing yourself from the hurt

and moving past it. The revenge won't heal you. It will be a separate journey but could distract you from putting yourself back together. Luckily, I got sober, and I'm sober now four plus years. I even had another girlfriend of two years cheat on me before I got sober. But this time, I didn't take revenge. I spent my time healing. I changed and only focused on myself, and that was way more satisfying than the revenge I got on Lisa for cheating on me. Now, I'm married almost two years to a woman who is sober. In man

do I have a good life! I have a dream job and a dream marriage. Thank you, everyone, who read this. Sorry if it wasn't well written. I never write like this, but I have never told the full story in detail before, and I got a lot out of writing it. Mostly, what I hope to get from this is to share my experiences doing horrible things but feeling an immense satisfying feel from it where it's almost addictive and morphing from generally a good person to a relatively dark evil one. Obviously, people have dark moments, but I

feel like my personality in psyche has never been the same since that experience. I'm looking forward to any responses to the people willing to read the __. Edit: hey everyone! It's been a little over 100 days since I posted this, and I've been pretty much astonished at the number of people who read this. I appreciate all the comments, even though it was a real mixed bag of responses. It's kind of spread to Facebook and YouTube, etc., and it's really interesting how different the sentiment is on each of those platforms. One of the most common questions

I've been getting is, have you apologized or talked to Lisa since the events in this story? The answer is no, not yet. I am planning on it, though. She's on a long list of amends I've been making for years. It looks like I'll be back in her City sometime next year, and I'll reach out to her then. I know a lot of you are telling me not to. But I have spoken to my sponsor, my therapist, and mentors about this, and the decision is to apologize for my actions, and I agree it needs to be

done. Also, a lot of comments were people are completely missing the point of the narrative of the story and feel the need to try and be my therapist or something and tell how I should have done this or that almost a decade ago, which was not the point. It's obviously horrible how I reacted. That's not what this was about. This was about reflection without bias. And as I mentioned in my post, I have gotten into dating again since that relationship with Lisa many years ago, and most of my girlfriends and relationships after Lisa were good.

But with one of them, I got cheated on again in an even more horrific way, and it was significantly more traumatizing than this story I wrote with Lisa. But I had learned from the experience with Lisa and, rather, didn't take revenge and just walked away. That's when I finally got sober, and it led to the life I have now. I'm considering writing a post illustrating that story because I actually ended up doing the healthier thing, even though I was hurt even more than with. Lisa, the thing that totally shocked me and honestly filled my heart

with empathy is the sheer number of men who reached out to me on here sharing their own stories of infidelity and substance abuse, either asking for advice or just to share their own emotions and stories. I felt connected to people dealing with the things I did back then, and it was so fulfilling to have the opportunity to help these men deal with their trauma in healthier ways than I originally did. Thank you all for your responses, as much as they vary, but generally, I think all arguments made below have an element of truth. Here is

another update on his life—I caught my GF getting double-teamed by two guys. I tried one alive myself a few months ago. I made a post in another thread sharing a story about how I got cheated on by my college GF and the terrible obsession I acquired thereafter to get revenge on her. This is relevant to the story here. However, in this story I'm about to share is a story that took place years after Lisa, my cheating College ex-girlfriend. I got in another relationship and got cheated on again, but this time I didn't get revenge but

rather, I just walked away. My revenge story in the other thread is a story of what not to do after getting cheated on, and this will be one of how I learned from my past and tried to do the right thing this time, even though it was incredibly difficult. The story after I had a horrible incident of infidelity with my GF in college, Lisa. Like I said, I went on a long tedious mission to get even with her. This was followed by years of just, being bitter and jaded towards women. After college, I went down

to Central America where I pretty much spent years just doing and selling drugs, never considering getting into a relationship or allowing myself to get vulnerable with another woman. I fully admit that I was an awful degenerate during this time. Well, after a few years of this, I found myself just more depressed than ever. These substances ain't working anymore. I grew tired of having these face values, shallow, and temporary relationships with women. I decided to drop everything I was doing in Central America and come back to the United States. I called an old friend and made

arrangements to move into his place temporarily until I got back on my feet. When I moved back to the USA, I decided to quit my gnarly substance habit I had developed preceding my college breakup with Lisa. It wasn't easy, but I was fully committed to giving happiness another shot. I also decided to give dating another chance. I came to feel pathetic that I was giving up on finding someone special just because some girl in college broke my heart by cheating on me. A couple months after moving into my friend's place, I'd been on a few

good dates with women in the area and started opening back up to the idea of allowing myself to grow close with a woman again. One day, I met this girl on a dating app. We will call her Kate. Kate was 25 and I was 23, and I just absolutely fell head over heels for her. She had that burgundy red hair that wasn't orange but almost more of a fluorescent but natural red. She had a three-year-old son, who honestly I loved and looked kinda just like me. Kate had just gotten out of a terribly abusive marriage

and was in a very similar position as me. She had also just gone through a period of grief and a bad substance habit, and she had just cleaned herself up and was ready to try dating again. This worked well for both us because we both completely understood each other's emotional state and were able to allow one another to proceed slowly and not expect too much out of each other. We both had fears of commitment and trust issues and were still a little emotionally fragile due to our past relationships and substance habits. Besides this, we had

so many things in common. Kate even said she felt like she was dating the male version of herself, and she liked it because we allowed each other to be completely authentic. As the months rolled on, we grew closer and closer. Me and her son got along, and he even called me dad. He was too young to remember his biological father, and I was the only other father role he's ever had in his life. The day I taught him how to pee standing up on a tree sealed the deal for me, and he was my son

from that point on. I got a job at a finance firm, and Kate worked at a nightclub. Things were going well, and we moved into an apartment together, bought a car together, and were in the process of trying to buy a house. We were going to get married and have a kid of our own. We only smoked weed occasionally and felt like we had fully recovered from our past substance addictions and emotional wreckage. We both crawled out of the depths of real darkness and found some peace and happiness together. Or so I thought. Me and

Kate never had any jealousy or suspicions with each other. We fully trusted each other. We never went through each other's phones, and we knew each other's passwords and login info to everything, so we never had any issues around trust with one another. Until this happened—typically I would get up early in the morning before I got ready for work to walk Kate into the apartment from the parking lot because she wouldn't get home until after 3 or 4 a.m. in the morning. From work and it was a bit of a sketchy walk. The club typically was

only open until 2 am most days, but recently started staying open until four most nights of the week or so. Kate told me one morning, Kate said she was leaving work a little later because she had to drop a friend off at her house. She told me this only, like, five minutes before she would ordinarily arrive home. It usually took her about 35 minutes to get home from work, so I found it a bit odd that she told me so last second. I knew where her friend lives, so it may have only taken an extra

five minutes to drop her off on the way to our place. She ends up getting home about an hour later than usual, and something seemed a bit off. She looked high, not on weed, but it struck me as if she was on Coke or Molly. I briefly confronted her about this, but she brushed it off quickly and said she was late because her friend's car broke down and they tried to get it fixed but couldn't. That's why it took so long to get home. This was the first time in almost a year that anything like

this happened, so I quickly pushed down my suspicions and chalked it up as me being a bit paranoid because of my past experience with infidelity and dishonesty. I told myself Kate would never do anything sketchy. She had been through the same thing I went through, and she knew in full detail my story about my last relationship. She would never do anything like that to me, especially since it happened to her too. I wasn't even that suspicious of her cheating or anything. I was more suspicious that she was doing hard substances again. Slowly but surely, incidents

like this started happening more frequently. First like once a month and eventually led all the way up to happening almost every week. There was a few nights where I was almost positive she was high on substances. And, we thought about it, she finally admitted one day that I thought she was high. That she did half a line of coke once because she was tired and needed a pick-me-up to get through work, but that was all she did. At this point, she was coming home at five, six, or even 7 A.M. some mornings. Regularly her Club

closed at 2 or at 4 AM, depending on what day of the week it was. She always had excuses, like the car wouldn't start, she would go to her friend's house after work to smoke weed, or she went to a Waffle House with some of her co-workers after their shifts. But then one morning her text messages seemed severely suspicious. She wouldn't respond promptly, and it really seemed like she was forcing herself to sound genuine when texting me. She was doing the "I'm going to be home a little late" dance with me again, but this time

it really dragged on. She told me she was on her way at 6am, two hours after the club closed. So at 6:30, I went outside to the parking lot to walk her in. When she arrived, it was snowing heavily outside, there was a blizzard going through the area. About an hour goes by, and I hear nothing from her. I text and call her over and over, she doesn't answer the phone, but I get a message from her saying she's almost home. Another hour goes by before she finally pulls up into the parking lot. The time

was 9:30 A.M., I had to call out from work because I couldn't leave her son home alone. I usually left for work at 7:30. I'm completely covered head to toe in snow, I walk up to the car, and I open her door. Kate looks at me like she had seen a ghost and she begins rambling nervously and almost incoherently. She said she got pulled over but was let go without a ticket, the car ran out of gas, so she had to stop to fill up. Her friend was having a mental breakdown, so she stayed with

her for a while to help her after work. She even started blaming me for things, like saying she wouldn't have gotten pulled over if I got the registration done sooner, yada yada yada. Thinking she could have told me this by texting me or calling me at any point during all of this. It was all very suspicious. The whole time she won't shut up, giving me very inconsistent stories. While we were on our walk into the apartment, I can't help but notice how dilated her pupils are. And how she is visibly grinding her teeth. Obviously, I

was very angry at this point, but I was so exhausted and cold from standing outside for hours and worrying about her. I temporarily let it go and tried to distract myself with some video games. I was convinced she was doing cocaine at work or after work. What else was she up to? Who was she doing cocaine with? Just her co-workers and friends? Is she doing other drugs? Was she cheating? I was only mildly worried that she was cheating, I was more concerned about her substances. We both had our runs in the past with them, hence

why we only smoked weed nowadays and occasionally had a drink. We weren't sober or anything like people in a 12-step program, but we tried to keep it very mellow. Her lying about these substances was even more concerning to me than the actual substances. Because it was triggering my trauma from my ex Lisa, who lied to me and cheated on me in college. I literally was at the point where I didn't even care if she did these substances. He just wanted her to be honest with me. I couldn't stand the thought of being in another relationship

where my GF was lying to me about anything. My mind began to spiral. I felt completely betrayed. Me and Kate helped build each other back up after our tumultuous past, and now we have wonderful lives. I never thought she would lie to me about anything. We had such an open book trustworthy relationship, and we never experienced any problems with this type of stuff before. I got obsessed with trying to find out if she was lying about the drugs. I needed undeniable proof. The next day, when she left for work, I tore up the house looking

for something. I had no idea what I was looking for. A bag of coke? Some pills maybe? I went through every drawer, every nook and cranny of every piece of furniture, coat pocket, on top of the cabinets, anywhere she could hide something. I found nothing. I tried to convince myself I was just being paranoid. My PTSD and insecurities about my past relationship were triggering me, and I was just getting obsessive with trying to find something that wasn't there. I decided I would stop trying to find out if she was lying because if I was wrong,

my behavior could ruin a good relationship. I thought Kate would never lie to me, or even worse, cheat on me. She had a horrible experience with her ex-husband cheating on her while she was pregnant. He also hid a substance problem from her. So I couldn't imagine her doing the same thing to me that her ex-husband did to her. So I let things go. She came home at normal times again for a while. This calmed me down a lot. I began to feel bad for my paranoia until one night. I'm at a local pool hall playing

at a table with a random guy, we will call him Jerry. While me and Jerry are chatting, I mentioned that my girlfriend works at the club. Jerry's sister Sarah was hanging out with us while we played pool. She said she worked at the same club a couple of months ago. I asked her if she knew Kate, and she said she did, but they weren't really that close. They mostly knew each other in passing. I then expressed that I wished Kate had a day job where we could be home together more at night when I got

off work. I tell Sarah that since the club typically closes at four, I would only see Kate for about an hour or two before I left for work in the morning. Sarah then looks at me confused and says, "I thought they closed at 2AM when I worked there. We only closed at four on Friday and Saturday nights." I tell Sarah, "They changed the hours after you left." Sarah then tells me that her roommate still works there, and she never mentioned the closing times had changed because she still comes home just after two during the week.

It got awkward fast, but I shrugged it off and finished the game of pool. After the game, I went home and I couldn't get what Sarah told me out of my head. I looked up the club Kate worked at, and indeed it said they were only open till 4 AM on Friday and Saturday nights and 2 AM every other night. I again convinced myself that they must have not updated the times on their website yet after they made changes or something. Deep down, I knew Kate was up to something, but I was so scared of

being lied to again. After years of avoiding relationships for that exact reason, I was in full-fledged denial. The next day was a Sunday night. I texted Kate and asked her when she would be off that night, and she said she would be home at 4:30 and she would text me when she was on her way. So at 2:30 AM, I called the club and asked if I could speak with her. It was about her son. The manager answered and told me they had closed at two, and Kate already left. I felt like I was going

to throw up. I decided I was going to confront Kate. I don't know when she came home that night because I ended up drinking until I passed out and didn't go out to the parking lot to walk her in. When I woke up, she was asleep next to me. I got up and went into the living room where I saw her purse sitting on the coffee table. I picked it up and started to go through it. At first, I didn't find anything. No substances or anything shady else that would throw me off. Then I noticed

tucked away in one of the small zippers, I found an empty dime bag and rolled up dollar bill. Is this what I've been looking for all this time? I just put it down on the coffee table and went to work. I was hoping she would see it and know that I found it. When I came home, she was getting ready for work. She was in front of the bathroom mirror doing her makeup, specifically her eyeliner. I leaned up against the door and looked at her through the mirror. She looked up and said, "Hey, babe. What's

up? How was work?" I guess she didn't see that I found the rolled up dollar bill. I replied with, "Hey, we need to talk about something." I proceeded to tell her that I called the club, and they told me they close at two on Sundays. She immediately ignores the entire topic of her lying about what time the Club closes and proceeds to scream at me for being controlling and obsessive and not trusting her and having no right. To call the club in the first place, it didn't phase me. I had made sure that I wasn't

just being paranoid. What she was doing was grade A gaslighting, which I was well experienced with because of my previous relationship. The fight continues to escalate. I accuse her of doing cocaine behind my back and lying to me about her substance habit. I call her a Coke or, and that's when she turns around and swings at me with her eyeliner. I turn in reflex and she lodges the eyeliner pencil about an inch and a half into my shoulder. She then proceeds to punch about half a dozen times in the face. I don't react or hit

her back. I was mostly just in shock. Once she finished beating me and screaming, we both just stand there staring at each other. I pull the pencil out of my arm and drop it on the floor. I walk out of the bathroom and into the kitchen where I get some duct tape and patch up the hole in my arm. I have a tattoo right where she stabbed me, and I still have a nice healthy scar there to this day. I leave the apartment and start my walk to the liquor store. Kate is blowing up my

phone. She is doing the whole thing where she is apologizing, and when she doesn't get a response she begins throwing insults, and then repeats that cycle over and over. I buy a bottle of Fireball whiskey and proceed to walk and drink and walk and drink. I eventually black out and wake up to none other than Jeffrey, who I played pool with the other day, and some other guy I didn't know, trying to pick me up out of the snow. They put me in their car. Apparently, they were on their way to work and saw me

fall and not move on the side of the street and pulled over to make sure I was okay. Today, I wonder where those guys worked because it must have been super early in the morning. I was walking for hours at that point and probably blacked out long before I fell. I had finished the whole bottle of whiskey very quickly. When I was in the car with them, they asked me what was going on and why I was walking around at that time of night that far from the town. I could barely talk. It felt like

my lips were frozen. I was able to tell them where I lived, and they dropped me off at home. When I go inside, Kate is shocked and tries to get me to lay down and get me warm. I blacked out again shortly after. I wake up in a pool of vomit in my bed. I get up and take a shower and go out into the living room where Kate is sitting on the couch crying. We begin to talk. She apologizes for stabbing me with the eyeliner pencil, and she admits that she had started doing coke

again. She was going to her coworker's place. A few of them lived together in an apartment. They were all females, and she would do coke with them before coming home. She first started doing it to help her get through work, and it just kept escalating. I asked her if it was just coke, or if it was other stuff too, because there were some nights where she seemed like she was more than just coke. She admits every once in a while she took a Xanax to take the edge off the coke before she came home, but

she did this rarely. We ended the conversation civilly, and she promised to stop doing substances and lying to me about where she was and that she would never hide anything from me again. But now that I knew she was capable of lying and keeping things from me, I was a bit more on my toes with things than usual. Weeks go by, and things are kind of back to normal for a while. The only odd thing was Kate was working more often than usual. She would cover for people more, pick up extra shifts randomly more often.

Before, she only worked four days a week, but now she's working six or seven days. It didn't become suspicious until I noticed that if we had a fight on a night she wasn't scheduled to work, she would immediately start getting ready and tell me she texted her manager and asked if she could come in because she needed to get away from me. We only had one car, and this was before Uber was really everywhere, so I couldn't go check out her work to see if she really was at work. But then one day, my friend

was over while Kate was at work, and we were just playing video games and decided we wanted to go out to get some Taco Bell. Neither of us had it in forever. We had the munchies and wanted to find one, so I pulled out my phone to look on Google Maps where the nearest Taco Bell was. That's when I noticed something I'd never seen before. Me and Kate shared a Google account on our Androids at the time, so it showed both of our search histories for locations we typed into Google Maps. And on that very

day, she searched some random location in a nearby neighborhood when she left for work. My head began to spiral again, and I told my friend I no longer felt up to it and just wanted to go to bed, so he left a bit confused. I double-checked everything on my phone and even went on my computer and did some searches to see if there was any way I was misinterpreting it, and I was not. When Kate came. Home, I asked her if she really went to work that night. She got real defensive and started accusing me

of being paranoid. I then proceed to show her the Google Maps and how someone searched this location right when she supposedly left for work and it was not me. She proceeds to tell me the most epic lie I've ever heard. She said I never went there and searched it, Google is wrong, it's probably just a glitch. Alright, now I finally admitted to myself I am dating a liar again. I grab a few things and I get a motel in town. I spend many nights fighting with Kate over the phone and crying while watching shitty cable

TV. I was so angry that for the second time in a row I'm dating someone who lies to me and keeps things from me. One of our fights gets so heated we completely stopped talking for two days. We didn't break up though, just stop talking. Something inside me was desperately hoping that maybe she's just doing coke and drugs, not cheating. But I am super suspicious that she is cheating at this point, and I couldn't let go of it. After a couple nights in the motel, I had convinced myself Kate isn't cheating, she was just back

into her substance addiction and I need to help her get out of it. I know firsthand what substance addiction can do to someone as it did to me once. I decide to reconcile with her. It was later at night, and I knew she would be back home in a few hours, and I would meet her in the parking lot with some flowers or something. I borrowed a friend's car, went to the shop, and bought some flowers, and headed home. I park in the parking lot and begin to wait for Kate to get home. At around

2:45 a.m., I see our car drive up to the parking lot, but I see someone in the passenger seat. It was Kate, she wasn't driving, she was sitting in the passenger seat. There was a man I didn't know driving my car. I just laid low and watched when this random dude, that I didn't know, parked my car. I wasn't ready for what happened next. Another man also gets out from the back seat. WTF is happening? Who are these people? The three of them walk into our apartment. I pull out my phone and begin to write

a text message to Kate. I tried to act like I didn't know anything so that I could see what she would say. Maybe these were just platonic friends and she had nothing to hide. I text her and ask her if she was home yet from work and if I could come over and we could talk things out. I told her I wanted to apologize for yelling and saying some hurtful things during our fights. I don't get any messages back for about 15 minutes and then I get a text from her saying, "I just got home,

but I want some alone time. I do love you with all my heart, let's talk tomorrow." My heart was beating out my chest as I read the text. I banged my head on the steering wheel in rage while simultaneously crying. I get out of my car and decide to go inside and confront her. When I get to my apartment, the door is locked. I forgot my keys because I only brought the keys for a friend's car. I heard loud music playing on the other side of the door. I tried knocking but no one answered. I

walk around the corner where I knew our living room window and bedroom windows were. We were on the ground floor level. I peep in through our living room window and I see no one. I was honestly hoping that I would see them there, just smoking weed casually or something. But if they weren't in the living room, then where the [ __ ] are they? I walk a little further down until I get to our bedroom window, the blinds were down but I could see, and if I put my eyes on the edge of the window

to look real close. When I leaned in to look around the blinds, my heart sank into my stomach. On the other side of the blinds, in our bed, my beautiful girlfriend, whose son I consider to be my own, was getting spit-roasted by the two guys I saw her walk in with. I leaned up against the wall and slid down until I was sitting on the ground. My face fell into my hands. I sat there for five minutes, vaguely hearing what was going on through the window above me. I contemplated going in and killing all three

of them. I was so filled with rage. I decided to get up and get back into the car. I started chain smoking cigarettes as all my memories of the relationship that I cherish so much began to dismantle in my mind. Everything was a lie, everything I thought about Kate that made me love her so much started to dissolve. Now a lot of you have read my story about when I was cheated on by my college ex-girlfriend Lisa. When Lisa cheated on me, my rage led me to do everything I can to get the gnarliest revenge

I could. In that story, I went completely overboard and Lisa ended up extremely broken and abused. Now many years later, in my first relationship after Lisa, I'm in the same position but worse. This time, however, I decide not to get revenge on Kate as I did on Lisa. No, this time, I'm going to kill myself. But first, I'm going to kill Kate. I start the car and drive. I stop by a gas station that I know sells. Some basic hunting and fishing equipment. 24 hours. They don't have any guns, but they had some hunting and

skinning knives. I buy the largest knife they have and drive back to my motel, grab my keys to the apartment, and then head home to paint my bedroom walls with their blood. When I get there, I slowly and quietly open the front door. I begin to creep down the hallway to our bedroom, gripping the knife tight, expecting one of the guys to maybe pop out. I inch up to my bedroom door. It's open, but the lights in the room are off, and I can't see anything inside. It's quiet. I don't hear anything. Sweat is dripping

down my face, and I'm trying to control my shaking and breathing so no one hears me come in. Scared of what I might see, I reach into the bedroom and flip the light switch on. When the lights pop on, I just see Kate lying in the bed, naked and by herself. Was I hallucinating earlier or something? Or did those guys just leave before I got back? She didn't wake up, so I take a look around the room. I see a condom wrapper on the nightstand next to her bed, which pretty much confirmed what I saw,

and I now knew I wasn't hallucinating. Me and Kate never used condoms. When I take my first step into the bedroom, I hear the door to her son's room across the hall open. I turn around quickly, ready to stab one of the two guys I saw earlier, but of course, it's just Kate's son, my son. My first thoughts were: What is Kate's son doing here? Why didn't Kate take him to daycare or to her mom's house before she had two random dudes come over to [*]? Was the little kid there the entire time while she

was at work or while she was getting double-teamed across the hall? What the hell is wrong with her? He looks up at me from his bedroom door, down to your back, and he rushes in to hug my leg. I put my hand on his head, look at the knife in my other hand. I put the knife in my back pocket and I get on my knee and I tell my stepson I'm going away for a while, just wanted to say goodbye to you and Mom before I left. He then proceeds to give me the saddest

face I've ever seen. I pick him up and take him back to bed, tuck him in, and tell him goodbye. I knew it would be the last time I see him, but I didn't want him to know he was about to never see me again. Now, after that, I can't kill his mother. He can't grow up without his mother, he doesn't deserve that, even if I think she deserves to die. However, I still wanted to die. I walk out of the apartment and start walking down the street, just sobbing my eyes out. I sit down

at a bus stop bench, and I pull out the knife, and I begin cutting at my wrists. I was ready to die for like 10 minutes. I cut at them, trying to get the blood to flow harder. Then a police car pulls up, and two cops get out, and one of them says, "Hey man, what are you doing?" I calmly tell him I'm done. He radios in more cops, and before I know it, there are like 15 or 20 of them surrounding me. They spend about 20 minutes trying to get me to put the knife

down. I'm bleeding all over. The cop walks closer to me and asks me to hand him the knife. I stare at the knife for a few seconds, but he hadn't talked me off the ledge. Nothing at this point could. I also knew I couldn't get out of this situation without being thrown into a psych ward. I raised the knife over my head and lunged at the officer, and before I could even take two steps, I'm on the ground getting tasered, and they're piling on top of me, putting handcuffs on me. I had made one major

miscalculation. I thought if I made a move towards the officer, they would for sure shoot me dead, but I forgot I was white. So unfortunately, I was only tasered. The next thing I know, I'm riding in the back of the cruiser, and they take me to the hospital where they sedate me and patch me up. They gave me some sedatives that completely knocked me out. The next thing I know, I wake up, and I'm in what I later find out is a psych ward for the criminally insane. It's like jail or prison but worse. You

don't know what day or time it is, and you get no communication with the outside world. Or at least we didn't at this one. I'm not going to go into detail about what I experienced there, it was one of the darkest places I'd ever seen in my life. I was in there for about six weeks before an attorney was able to get me off on a technicality. When I was released, I took a taxi home. It was about three hours away. When I get home, I had the taxi driver drop me off at a McDonald's

near my apartment. I sit down, and charge my phone. I didn't want to go back to that apartment, not after what I saw there. I have texts/calls/voicemails from many people, including Kate. I also obviously was let go from work, my credit cards were all maxed out, Kate clearly had been using them because she had a card for all my accounts. I called Kate, and she was ecstatic to hear from me. She had been so worried and had no idea what happened to me. I told her I would explain everything, but I needed her to meet

me at the McDonald's and not to bring her son with her. She was confused at first but agreed she would meet me after she dropped her son off at daycare. Kate later walks into the McDonald's and rushes to try and hug and kiss me, but I brush her off and tell her to sit down. This threw her off a bit, but she sits down, and I tell her what happened - everything I saw before I was thrown into the ward. What she responded with shocked me. Kate had the audacity to try and deny everything. She

said I must have looked into the wrong apartment and saw someone else. I shook my head in disbelief and cut her off mid-sentence. I told her she needs to tell me the truth right now, and if she tries to lie to me again, I will get up and walk out of this McDonald's, and she and her son will never see me again. I look at her sternly in the eyes, and she could see I meant every word I said. I asked her one more time, "Have you been cheating on me?" She looks down at her

lap and begins to cry. She mutters, "Yay, I have." She proceeds to admit that her substance problem had gone from Coke to meth, and she was also doubling down with Xanax every night. That's why the guy was driving our car because she was too intoxicated to drive. I stare at her for about a minute, and before I let out a big sigh, I pull my phone out of the charger and stand up. She looks up and asks, "Where are you going?" I look her dead in the eyes and say, "I'm going to go do drugs."

It's all I can think to do right now. As I pick up my backpack, she asks me if we are still together. I tell her, "No. I didn't mean I was going to stay if you told me the truth. I was going to leave either way. I just wanted to hear you admit it before I left." The events after for the next few months, I pretty much lived on the road, basically homeless. I would hop from town to town, mostly selling substance at strip clubs and crashing where I could. Sometimes I slept in motels, sometimes

I slept outside. I was doing a lot of my product. I lost almost 65 pounds in these few months because sometimes I would go days without eating or sleeping. One day I woke up in a hospital. I had been having seizures, and my internal organs had begun failing. I was severely malnourished. I'm six feet five inches and I was weighing in at 155 pounds soaking wet after a big meal. Multiple doctors and therapists came in to see me every day, trying to figure out what was going on with me. I spent about a month in

the hospital recovering before I was discharged. The doctors recommended I seek a sobriety program. They concluded that I had no mental disorders other than PTSD and mostly just had a poly substance addiction problem. When I was discharged from the hospital, I stayed at a halfway house shelter for almost four months. I found a sober program and began going to meetings and never touched a substance again. Since I was released from the hospital, I got a new phone and number. Almost no one from my life prior to my stay in the hospital had any contact with

me anymore. While I was in the halfway house, I started working out to try and regain some size. I looked like a beanpole. When I was released from the halfway house, I got a job at a nearby gym as a personal trainer, a brand new career path for me. But the gym had become my new safe space where I felt okay. Fast forward five years to today, I am still sober to this day. I'm weighing in at a healthy and lean 265 pounds. I am happily married for two years. I run my own lucrative business.

The day I left the hospital, I thought long and hard about what I was going to do with my life. My instinct was to retreat into darkness. I still wanted to get back at Kate for what she did, just like I did with Lisa in college. After a few long periods of thought over the course of a few weeks, I decided the best revenge would be to live the best life I could. And most importantly, I decided to stop feeling sorry for myself for the things I went through. This changed the game for me. I

stopped blaming others or the world for the things that happened to me. Looking back at this today, five years later, and where my life has led me, I am so happy I made the decision to try a different course of action. I don't even recognize myself anymore when I wrote these stories about Lisa and Kate. I don't even see me. I see some other messed up kid. I turned 30 this weekend. I got sober a month before my birthday five years ago. If you would have told me back then that I would be where I

am now, I would never believe you. I am so happy I didn't take my own life or even worse take Kate's life that day. I am so glad I decided to get up and keep trying at life. I had to fall a few times, but when I finally got up, I flew. I spoke with Kate only once years after I left the McDonald's. The day she admitted to cheating on me. Me, after speaking with her, I gotta say, it's true what they say: the best revenge is living a good life. This video was extremely long.

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