The Other Woman

So there’s this chick.

She’s got it all – she’s exciting, exotic, and really attractive.

She goes great with Doritos, Mountain Dew, and a big, fat slice of ego.

She stays up late, gets up early, goes all day and still finds the energy in-between to take away the one thing I care about the most.

My husband.

Now, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea here. I know what you’re thinking:

How dare he that dirty rotten scumbag #%@$&&*#^$*&^% (insert your choice expletives).

But it’s not him. It’s her.

No, really. She’s got this undeniable draw. Even I can’t resist it.

Yes, I’ve met her. We’re actually kind of friends, if you want to know the truth. And, if you want to know more of the truth, this isn’t the first time this has happened. It’s kind of an on-again, off-again, deal-with-it-as-it-comes(-again) kinda thing.

Now, I don’t write this because I want your sympathy, empathy, casseroles, or whatever else you've got to offer (unless it’s money, then you can just fill that check out right now. I also take cash). I just wanted you all to know.

And we’re working through it. The three of us. Together. It could take some time. It could take some therapy. It could take multiple packages of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. Like, a lot of packages.

But we’re determined to make this work.

And if someone has to go, well I guess we all know who it has to be.

HER.

By the way… that Other Woman? 

The Mistress? 

That Great Whore of the Earth?

Her name is...

“Hunting Season.”

Yes ladies, it’s that time of year again. Lock that man up.