Sex. Celebrity. Politics. With Teeth
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Sex. Celebrity. Politics. With Teeth

The Worst Way You Found Out They Cheated

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Cheating, man. We're human, and it happens, but is there anything worse for the delicate human ego? This week's Pissing Contest theme comes from Jezebel reader Kate, who emailed us with one extremely gruesome tale:

So I caught my boyfriend (AND also conveniently my neighbor) cheating this weekend in the most adolescent year old way possible. Let's just say I got into his bed Sunday AM (after not seeing each other since Sat afternoon) only to find a special sticky rubbery souvenir from the night before. He asked me in a drunken hungover haze "hey baby can you fix the sheets?" I reach down to pull up the fleece sheet from the bottom of the bed to only touch an OPEN LOOSE CONDOM. Let's confirm that is NOT mine. Clearly, I did what any stable young woman would do & freaked the fuck out. Although, I am considering this his loss for being a 31 year old drunken loser – I am still having a hard time comprehending it all. Who knew what else he had been hiding from me after his late night shifts as a Brooklyn bartender. I got the "I'm scared" "I can be better" bullshit with about 3 hilarious versions of why it was there. All that are just shy of batshit loony crazy. I touched the condom – I TOUCHED IT PEOPLE.

That's some sick shit right there. You are better off without that loser, girl!!!! Hopefully sometime soon we'll be relocating the Jezebel staff and its entire readership to that all-female boxcar colony in New Zealand from Top of the Lake, but until then, let's all take a moment to send some healing vibes Kate's way.


So tell us: Have you ever found out, in some mind-bogglingly horrible way, that you were being cheated on? But first, let's take a moment to bow down to the winners of last week's contest, Your Most Over-The-Top Emotional Meltdown.

From Tara Babcock, whose freakout could not have been more warranted:

When my children were little- 4 years old and 2 years old- I was a very depressed stay-at-home mother in a failing and passionless marriage. I did not get along with my mother-in-law at that time and my own parents lived in another state, so I had a very minimal support network. Often, I was stuck at the house with the kids for days on end.

One afternoon, following a particularly difficult morning, I decided to pack both kids into the double stroller and walk to a nearby eatery to treat myself and the kids to some lunch. The kids were being fussy and uncooperative that day, so by the time I got to the front of the line with them, I was already stressed and frustrated. I ordered our food- a couple of soups and some sandwiches- and as I grabbed the tray to walk back with it to the table, I tripped over my own diaper bag. Everything went flying all over the everything- the floor, the nearby tables, myself. This was the proverbial straw. I shouted "I GIVE UP!" and sank to my knees, sobbing. I was aware that the other patrons were staring at me, but I was just too distraught to even care or do anything but kneel there and sob like a madwoman in the middle of the restaurant.

Suddenly, a swarm of friendly strangers were gathered around me. They were cleaning up the mess, patting me on the back, offering words of consolation. I left that restaurant feeling like I could face whatever came next- and also, that humans are sometimes unexpectedly wonderful.


A tale as old as time, from LadySpringingSoul:

Several years ago I was at an "art show" with friends (there was art there, but we were concentrating on listening to music and getting drunk) and a guy that I had been casually dating walked in. Now, we were not exclusive, and that was fine with me. Several drinks in, I'm standing at the bar and he's standing next to me, along with a girl he's been following around like a puppy almost all night. I heard him beg her for her phone number. That's when I got pissed, because that, I felt, was a violation of player etiquette. Get her number, fine, but NOT WHEN I AM STANDING RIGHT THERE.

Angry, I was now drinking to get shitfaced. And it worked. When I got ready to leave, I found out that someone had taken my coat, mistaking it for a similar coat that was near where I left mine. Only my car/house keys/phone were in my pocket. That's when I lost it.

I started screaming and ugly crying, scared that since I was locked out of my apartment I wouldn't be able to take my contacts out, and also still extremely pissed at and hurt by the guy I had been dating being such a rude asshole. I tried to stop crying but I couldn't. Even the hot bartender tried to reassure me but it didn't help. The next day I was able to exchange coats with the girl who had taken mine, and everything turned out all good. And I had humiliated myself in public, including in front of a super hot bartender.


From thesporkgirl, who reminds us all that hiking tantrums are Real and always, always hilarious:

as a too-old-to-throw-tantrums child, 8 or 9, after a day hiking, Dad would not let me bring my walking stick home in the car. My filthy, rotting, branch I'd been using as a walking stick. Complete meltdown, screaming sobbing in the mud;


Lisasaur, I feel this so hard:

One of my biggest fears is that one of my cats will sneak out an open door or window of my house (we live next to a busy street and near a mountain reserve full of hungry coyotes). One night we had a party where people were going in and out a lot. Once the party ended and everyone drunkenly went to bed, I did a final house check and couldn't find one of my cats. I immediately started panicking and searching all over the house. There was no sign of her anywhere. At this point I was crying hysterically and I woke my friend up, who was crashing in the guest room, telling her the cat had gotten out.

I started running around my neighborhood at 2 in the morning, sobbing and calling for my cat. After about 30 minutes I came back inside and the goddamn cat walked out from behind the washing machine looking mildly curious at all of the racket. She had never hidden behind there before, and has not gone back there since.

My cat is a dick.

Way to emote, ladies. And now, your turn!

Image via The Other Woman/Twentieth Century Fox