Move Over, Mr. LeTourneau…


[This is an oldie but goodie from the vaults of my husband, reprinted here with his permission.]

I have lost my wife to a 12-year-old too.

I knew the first time I saw his round, sensitive blue eyes and the way she seemed enthralled at his every act, word, that there was trouble.

Oh, I kept saying to myself, no way, not Dana!!

She’s above all that, she’s…*sniff*… but now it’s official. I think she was with him again last night, and I know for a fact she’s with him right now… I can hear them in the other room. He’s… entertaining her again.

And here Maggie and I sit, all alone, no sheets on the bed, she with only a plastic box to play with and the lone chicken nugget she’s been working on for the last half hour.

What do I DO??? I can’t take this cuckolding, made only worse by the youth who has stolen her affection from me — that little BASTARD!!

I can’t do any of those manly revenge things — like jump him in a blind alley and drop a garbage can on his head and beat it with a brick, or put sugar in his gas tank… he isn’t OLD ENOUGH TO DRIVE!!!!!

Not cars, anyway.

So that’s it, everyone. Now you know the tragedy of Dana and Steve. I am a cuckolded man. Thanks to that evil, winsome, athletically and spiritually gifted….


Come back, my love…I can forgive you, I know I can. Just…put…the remote…down…*sob*….