When I was married, my shrew of a wife always accused me of cheating. She was obsessed with the idea; never trusted me, never let me have female friends or even a buck's party. I never cheated on her, but I wish I had. I wish I'd had the courage to go out and fuck a random, then laughed in her face as I told her all the details.

years later I met a married woman through a messageboard. We met and hit it off. She was part of some happy-clappy church, married to an overweight taciturn grouch with a bad case of ugly. Within a few nights we were in her car, parked by the waterfront, with her riding me in the back seat.

I don't feel shame for cuckolding her husband; on the contrary, I feel hatred for him and all the losers that think a wedding band controls their partner, that a vow can make treating someone like shit all better. I hate marriage. I think it's a soul-destroying, unnatural state. I just wish I'd cheated on my whore wife while I'd had the chance.