In my opinion, the best kind of revenge against a guy who screwed you over is the kind he never sees coming. There’s keying his car — an old classic. There’s the time-honored tradition of spreading the rumor that he has a tiny peen. But there’s one thing that takes the cake when it comes to revenge. Judge me if you want. Even I’ll admit that it was twisted, but oh, it was worth it. It was a perfect storm of live events that somehow wound up combining into the ultimate moment of revenge.
I’m the first to admit that the guy I was hooking up with at the time was a total fuckboy. He was everything I should’ve said no to, which of course just made him more appealing. Among his many less-than-desirable traits were the fact that he was also a liar, because he was still hooking up with his girlfriend during this time when he’d told me the two had broken up. I was furious when I found out, but I felt worse for his poor girlfriend. She was a sweet person, who hadn’t even known what was happening. What a douchebag. I had resolved to let it go, but something about him still irritated me.
A week or so after I broke things off, I was at a party when my ex-fuckboy and his current gf showed up. He smirked at me when they came in like I would be jealous or something, and it inflamed my rage all over again. I had to get back at him. Somehow, some way, I had to make it happen.
A while later, I notice my ex-fuckboy and his girlfriend involved in what looked like a screaming match outside. When she came back into the house, I pulled her to the side and started plying her for information. I’d figured she wouldn’t want to talk to me at all, but she seemed to want to vent to someone who really understood what a dick this guy was, so what better girl than me?
“He’s just such a douche,” she sobbed as I tried to wipe off the mascara running down her face. “He told me there was only me, and then I find out he’s hooking up with you.”
“Uh,” I say.
“I know you didn’t know,” she says. “I just hate him. I hate him so much.”
“Me too,” I say, fired up by this poor girl’s speech. She had these big blue eyes that were pouring into my soul as she cried, and we were both fucked over by this asshole. We both deserved better than the bullshit he made us deal with. An inspiration comes to my mind. A dirty, improbable inspiration, but worth a shot.
“You really want to make this guy suffer?” I say. She nods, blinking up at me, and I swear I watch the exact same idea take shape in her mind. It was a moment of twisted telepathy.
I lean in, sitting on her lap and pulling her close. She wraps her arms around my waist, and I start kissing her.
She winds her hands in my hair and people start to notice the little show we’re putting on. The last thing I notice before she pulls me into a bedroom is her ex-bf’s face when he sees us — the expression of a man with the most serious case of blue balls and regret he’s ever had. Once in the bedroom, this girl really goes to town. We’re both drunk and she’s taking my pants off before I can even think. And, as it turns out, she’s way better down there than her (our?) loser boyfriend.
I’m a reasonable woman. Fuck me over and I’ll be a lady about it. I won’t key your car or come to your house crying. But if an opportunity presents itself to get back at you while simultaneously helping a sister out, I won’t pass it up. Especially if that opportunity involves me getting naked with your girlfriend.
If there’s a sweeter form of revenge, I haven’t found it yet..
Image via Shutterstock
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Shannon Layne
My favorite things are tiaras, compliments, and free drinks, which are becoming harder to come by the more I tend to show up at the bar in sweat pants. The proudest moment of my life so far has been landing an actual, paying job that allows me to Facebook stalk people for a living. I tweet about my mom way too often, who is constantly trying to remind me that I'm not nearly as cool as I think I am. Please send me funny stories to read at work here: shannon.laynee@yahoo.com
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