Women & Murder
It had been eighteen days since I’d dumped my boyfriend—he whose name is never to be spoken—caught him cheating on me, for the second time. Nine months invested in him and then that, twice. He had no explanation other than, “I fucked up.” “You sure did,” was my only reply. I did everything, and more, that he wanted—sexually and otherwise. I know I’m a beta woman and I’m fine with that. I like to please because I usually get pleasure in return. Maybe I was too easy, too accommodating, I thought for a while. In talking with some of my girlfriends I realized what I already knew—he viewed sex as a sport and didn’t, or wouldn’t, understand its underlying importance to a committed relationship. So I decided I was off guys, at least for a …