How I Found Out I’ve Been a Cuckquean for Years

It’s always when we decide to try new things that life shows us how basic we’ve been.

What a fucking day.

There I was, all excited, getting ready for what was supposed to be the most unforgettable night of my life. And unforgettable it was, but for the most absolutely wrong reasons you can imagine.

Let’s start from the beginning.

Me and Him (a fictional name, because his real name is just Him and the bastard doesn’t even deserve this small protection) had been together for five years.

Five. Fucking. Years.

Out of those five years, as I found out tonight, three were a complete lie, an Oscar-worthy performance, a fraud so bold even Bernie Madoff would be impressed.

It all started with a brilliant idea on my part. I was on Instagram, endlessly scrolling like any decent person at three in the morning, when I came across an ad for one of those sex toys that promise to revolutionize your sex life. In a moment of courage fueled by three glasses of wine and half a chocolate bar, I decided it was time to spice things up.

“We need to try new things,” I thought, like an optimistic idiot. As if the problem in our relationship was a lack of creativity in bed and not the fact that he was sticking his dick in others while I was binge-watching Netflix, convinced he was working overtime.