Our lives became intertwined. We were a unit, and it was time to take the next step. All of my friends were planning weddings or having babies, and it felt right. Bridget had all the qualities I wanted in a woman. She had a heart of gold, was beautiful, funny, ready to party, fucking mind-blowing in bed, sucked cock like a pro, and never judged me.

Her father was the only obstacle that stood in my way. I thought that someday I’d ask for a girl’s hand in marriage, but I knew with Bridget, it would be pointless. Her father would never give me the green light. He’d never welcome me with open arms. I knew Bridget loved me and told me time and time again that nothing her dad said could ever change that fact. I’d skip asking his permission and ask the one person who mattered in the actual decision, Bridget.

I couldn’t make the proposal simple. Most girls would be happy with simple, but Bridget would require a grand display of affection and commitment. Her family and friends would judge me based not only on the way I proposed but also by the ring I bought her. I spent weeks looking at diamonds, learning the ins and outs. I learned about the four C’s, color, cut, clarity, and carat. I knew as a salesman that the price on the item wasn’t final, and I’d be able to get her a decent ring based on the amount of money I had to spend.

I found a ring that would suit her, please her, and not make her embarrassed to show her friends and family. I would spend over four months’ worth of pay on the clear little stone, and I wanted it to be drop-dead gorgeous, just like Bridget. The one point five carat princess-cut diamond with only slight imperfections would be stunning on her long, thin fingers. I didn’t opt for the traditional yellow gold but had it set in a white gold band. I wanted the diamond to be the showstopper, nothing else to decorate or draw the eye away from the main attraction.

I spent more time thinking of how to propose than I did on picking out the ring she would wear for a lifetime. Every time I thought of the perfect setting, I always talked myself out of it, deciding it wasn’t good enough. The only thing that kept popping in my head was our upcoming trip to New York City. We’d be there for New Year’s Eve to watch the ball drop in Times Square. We were leaving tomorrow, New Year’s Eve morning, and I couldn’t wait any longer to ask her. I didn’t want to waste another moment as just boyfriend and girlfriend. I wanted to call her my fiancée.

I barely slept. My mind was tormented by the thought of flying and proposing to Bridget without fucking it up. You only get engaged once and can’t ever take that moment back. I crawled out of bed as soon as the sun peeked over the horizon. Our flight was early, and I dragged our bags outside and threw them in the trunk of her car. I had the little black box in my coat pocket, not wanting to take the chance of my bag getting lost with the precious cargo inside. I waited on the sofa for Bridget to finish making herself perfect. She was naturally beautiful and didn’t need to put on as much makeup as she did. I love her for everything she is and not her false beauty. Time ticked away slowly. My palms were sweaty, and I felt flushed.

“Bridget, come on, babe. We’re going to miss our flight,” I yelled from the living room.

“One more second,” she yelled back.

I walked around, making sure all the windows were locked and everything was off in the house. Bridget finally made an appearance, looking as beautiful as she always did. Her hair was fluffed just perfectly. She wore a long, clingy cream-colored sweater and tight blue jeans with boots. “You look beautiful, Bridget.”

She approached me with a lopsided grin and stood on her tippy-toes, reaching up to kiss my lips. “I love you, Kayden.” My heart skipped a beat with her words.

New York City greeted us with its crowds, noise, and a party atmosphere. The taxi driver had a hard time navigating the streets with the sea of people and street closures for tonight’s festivities. We checked in and threw our bags down, both falling onto the bed in exhaustion. “Just five minutes,” she said as I stroked her hair. I closed my eyes, relishing the feel of her warm body pressed up against mine, not looking forward to the hours in the freezing New York winter air.

Fingers running through my hair woke me from my dream of a beach with rolling waves and Bridget at my side. “Wake up, sleepyhead. We have to get ready and head to Times Square. Come on, baby.” Her words made my heart jump and start beating at a feverish pace, remembering where I was and what the night held for us both. “I love your hair,” she said as she played with my hair that had fallen across my forehead.

“Let’s go, beautiful.” I crawled off the bed, grabbed a beer from the minibar and waited for Bridget to winterize herself.

We stopped at a liquor store and grabbed a bottle of champagne to crack open at midnight to celebrate the New Year and our engagement. I held Bridget’s hand tightly as we walked through the endless mass of people gathered in the streets, drinking and celebrating hours before the ball dropped. At times, I only had a grasp on her fingertips, but I made sure never to lose her. I’d never fucking find her in this mess.

“Stop here, Kayden.” She yanked on my hand. “I want to be able to see the ball and the screens with the Dick Clark performances. I don’t want to go any farther.”

I held Bridget by the waist, watching the countdown clock tick away. With every hour and minute, my pulse grew faster, and my palms sweatier. The cold had no effect on me at this point. I was burning up inside my winter coat and hat. My mouth went dry, and I felt like I was swallowing sandpaper.

“Oh my God! I can’t believe we’re here on New Year’s Eve.” She almost jumped up and down in my arms, filled with excitement.

“There’s no place I’d rather be than here with you, love.”

“One minute, get ready. Hurry, open the champagne.” I quickly worked the contraption that held in the cork and pointed the bottle away from Bridget, aiming it high in the air. Other people around us were readying their drinks and watching the clock with urgency. “Thirty seconds.”

I reached into my pocket and grabbed the ring. Bridget didn’t see anything as I moved because she was focused on the ball. She started to yell the countdown with the crowd. I sank down on one knee and waited for her to look at me. Fucking hell, thank God I only had to wait a few seconds. Any more than that and I might have had a panic attack. She looked in my direction, and a terrified looked flashed across her face before she looked down. Her eyes became as big as saucers, and her mouth opened in shock.

“Kayden.” I could see her mouth moving, but I couldn’t hear a damn thing.

Fuck. I didn’t anticipate the noise and her not being able to hear my words. People began to cheer and kiss all around us. I held the ring up, not wanting to waste another moment. “Will you marry me?”

She nodded her head yes and crumpled to the ground in front of me. I gently grabbed her hand and slid the ring on her finger. Tears began to form in her eyes, and she wrapped her arms around my neck. We looked into each other’s eyes as the world around us disappeared. Bridget and I were engaged, and we’d become man and wife. I kissed her hard, demanding entrance, marking my territory. She would be mine forever.

Bridget was the first great love of my life. The details about our relationship or the engagement aren’t important. Our downfall is what changed my views on love and fidelity. When I’m in a relationship, I’m in it one hundred percent. I only have eyes for my partner. I never will be a cheater.

Our wedding was a month away. Bridget’s father still grumbled under his breath every time I walked in the room. Her parents had booked the Cleveland Botanical Garden as the venue for our vows and reception. It was beautiful and way out of my price range. Everything was purchased, and we were just counting the days until we’d become husband and wife.

I went for my final tuxedo fitting and decided to go home early to surprise Bridget. She’d been so stressed with all the planning. She and her mother didn’t see eye to eye on the dresses, flowers, and just about everything. She needed some downtime—a night filled with fun—and I knew just how to help her to relax.

I walked through the front door and followed a trail of clothing. It led me to her, but she wasn’t alone. I heard the noises coming from the bedroom. The sounds weren’t those of sadness but of lust and passion.

“Fuck me. Harder!” My heart broke in that moment. Shattered. I pushed the door open, and a naked male body filled my vision. He was standing up, thrusting into her as she kneeled on the bed like a bitch in heat.

“You’re my slut,” he said as he smacked her ass.

There are only two options in this moment. Option one involved screaming, making a scene, and beating the fuck out of him. Option two would be to wait for them and let them squirm when they realize they’ve been caught red-handed. Option two was the winner. I was too devastated to do anything else but drown my sorrow in a bottle of Jack. Fuck it! The damage was done. Bridget and I were over.

I should have picked up on the cues that I missed or overlooked because of the stressful nature of planning a wedding. She seemed distant at times, not as into sex, and was often out “shopping” for the big day. I didn’t pay attention, too wrapped up in the dream of what we were going to become instead of clutching what we were.

I left the door ajar and walked into the kitchen. I quietly opened the liquor cabinet, pulling out the bottle of Jack. I didn’t wait to get a glass. I popped the top and took a large gulp. I walked to the couch facing the hallway and waited. I sat there watching for the adulterer and her boy toy to make their grand entrance. I downed half the bottle before they emerged from the bedroom.

Bridget turned paler than I thought she ever could and came to a dead stop as he slammed into her back, causing her to lurch forward. I sat there with my leg over my knee, hand across the back of the couch, gripping the bottle of Jack and devoid of expression.

“K-Kayden,” she stuttered, adjusting her bra and panties. The rest of her clothes were still all over the house.

“Save it. Who the fuck is he?” I placed both feet on the floor and leaned forward on my elbows.

She looked at him, but I didn’t need an answer. Now that I was able to see his face, I knew exactly who he was. Jim or Tim, something bland and boring, worked for her father. He was an executive in his office and made large bank. “Lemme explain,” she said.

“Explain what? That you’re his slut?” I could almost feel my blood boil in my veins. I watched as he gathered his pants, dress shirt, and tie off the floor, and he headed to the door almost entirely naked. “I should have known you were a whore. I fucked you the first day I met you.” He stopped dead in his tracks.

“Shut your mouth, asshole. That’s not how you talk to a lady,” he said as he turned around.

“A lady? I thought she was your slut, just a fuck toy. She used to be just that to me, too.”

“Marshall, just go. Kayden and I need to work this out.” She pointed toward the door. Tom. I knew it was some short, boring-ass name that fit him to a tee.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay with him? Don’t let him talk to you that way. No one should talk to you that way, ever.”

“Go fuck yourself, Marshall. Get the fuck out.” I stood up, moving toward him. If he wouldn’t leave willingly, I’d gladly show him another way out.

Bridget jumped in front of me, placing her hand on my chest. I moved my body out of reach. I couldn’t stand the thought of her fingers that had just been touching his naked body now touching me. “No, Kayden don’t.” She looked hurt, but I didn’t buy the look on her face. “Just go, please, Marshall.”

He walked out the door without saying another word. I looked down at her, but she didn’t look like the girl I’d fallen in love with. She looked like a dirty whore, used up, not worthy of my love or my attention.

I backed away from her. My mind was cloudy from the liquor. “Why?” I asked. I didn’t know what else to say, and it didn’t matter what her answer was.

“I don’t know, Kayden. I’ve felt us slipping away.” Tears began to stream down her face, making my stomach turn. “I think I just got scared with the wedding coming up.”

“You’re going to blame it on the stress of the wedding? The wedding made you stick your ass in the air for any random cock? Don’t insult me.”

She walked toward me, and I backed away. I didn’t want her hands on me. “I’m sorry, I…” She placed her face in her hands and began to weep.

“Save the explanation. I can’t believe you threw us away, threw me away. I hope he’s worth it.” I set the bottle of Jack down, feeling deflated. Nothing I said or she begged mattered at this point. “At least your daddy will be happy, if he doesn’t already know.”

“Don’t go, Kayden. We can work this out.” Her mascara smeared on her face caused her to look aged. “Don’t walk out on me,” she pleaded.

“I’m not the one who left this relationship first, Bridget.” I grabbed my keys as she crumpled to the floor. She latched on to my leg as I touched the door handle. “Get off me.” I looked down at her, feeling nothing but disgust. She slowly removed her fingers, drawing out the ending of our relationship in her eyes. I turned the door handle and walked out into a new life—a blank slate, a fresh start that didn’t feel so full of possibilities but felt like a death. She was no longer the center of my universe, but instead the master of my destruction.

My breakup with Bridget left me raw and reeling. Life felt a little less sweet, and little things no longer brought me joy. I drowned my loss at the bottom of a bottle. How could you claim to love someone and want to spend the rest of your life with them but suck another man’s cock? I never looked back. Bridget called me, but I never answered the phone. I had nothing more to say to her. I needed to move forward with my life. I could never believe another word that came out of her mouth, and that’s no way to be in a relationship.

After a week of closing myself off from the world and tormenting myself with the pornographic replay of Bridget and the suit, my friends dragged me to a bar in Kent. I agreed to go only because it was a bar. I wanted to wash away all the images and events of the past year with booze.

I walked into the dank, smoky college bar with my buddies in tow around midnight, and my heart stopped in my chest… Literally. I couldn’t feel a beat, just a void. My eyes caught sight of Bridget across the room, sitting in the lap of some motherfucker, laughing like she didn’t have a care in the world. Her world didn’t shatter, only mine.

“Motherfucker,” I said, unable to take my eyes off her.

“What?” Ron said.

“The cheating whore is here.” I pointed across the room as Ron looked over.

“Fuck! I’m sorry, man. Want to go?”

“Hell no. I want to watch the show.” What can I say? I must love torture. I lived in my sadness and wallowed in my self-pity. “I want a fucking drink.”

We headed to the bar, and I ordered a pitcher of beer for myself. Yes, for myself—I wasn’t sharing. I washed down the beer with shots of tequila, trying to drown the hurt I felt with her in my sights. She worked the room, draping herself over various men like she knew them in a more intimate way. I never would have believed that she would even step foot in a bar like this, let alone look like a regular. I didn’t know Bridget as well as I thought I had. I’d been duped.

Halfway through my pitcher and four shots of tequila later, I felt Bridget spot me. Instead of walking away or leaving like a cheating bitch should, she headed in my direction with a look of hurt. What the fuck did she have to be hurt about?

She stood in front of me, yet I couldn’t say a word. There were so many things running through my brain. I had so much to say to this whore in front of me, but none of it would come.

“Kayden.” She sounded like she’d just seen me the other day and was saying hello like we were friends. “How are you?” I saw red; pissed couldn’t even explain what I felt in that moment.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. How am I? How am I? That’s all you have to say, you vile bitch?” Eyes started to look in our direction, but I ignored everyone, keeping my eyes pinned on her, not worthy of even saying her name.

“I’m sorry. I fucked up,” she said, staring at the ground.

“You fucked something, and it sure as hell wasn’t me. Get the fuck out of my space.”

She grabbed my arm, and my flesh instantly felt the coldness of her hands, just like her heart. “Get your fucking hand off me.” I stared at her hand, not wanting to look her in the eye. I could barely think straight because my insides were raging.

“You can be such a prick.”

I glared at her, unable to believe the words coming out of her mouth. I could see someone standing next to her out of the corner of my eye, and I turned my attention toward him. He was staring at Bridget with a look of concern.

“Bridge, are you okay? Want me to get rid of this asshole?” the cocksucker asked her. Somehow, I became the piece of shit in this situation. How in the fuck did that happen? I wasn’t the one spreading my legs for every Tom, Dick, and Harry like the lovely Bridge standing before me.

“Yes, poor little Bridge, are you okay?” I stared at her, wanting to hit something or someone.

“What’s going on over here, Bridge?” another male voice asked.

What in the fuck? Was she on a first-name basis with every asshole in this shit hole? “Yeah, I’m fine. Just give me a moment, guys.” They stared at me for a second before walking away.

“Doing more than one at a time now?”

“Fuck you, Kayden. You’re the one who destroyed us.”

I was dumbfounded. “I don’t remember shoving my cock into any hole that would grant me access.”

“You’re drunk. You fucker! Your drinking was more important than me. Look at you now, shit-faced drunk.”

“Nothing was more important than you. You’re delusional to put the blame on anyone but yourself. You’re a whore, and I never knew it.” I clenched my fists, becoming more and more pissed off with each moment.

Her hand connected with my face and my neck snapped to the side. I licked my lips, tasting iron from the blood that was trickling out of a small cut the slap had caused. I would never, no matter what, ever hit a woman. If anyone in the world ever deserved it, she did. I grabbed the remaining pitcher of beer at my side and dumped it over her head. She began to scream. “I can’t believe you. You’re a motherfucking dick.” The beer was dripping off the tips of her hair, and her tank top was drenched.

“What the fuck?” echoed from across the bar, and I knew the two guys who were all up in my shit earlier were about to be in my face. A hand wrapped around Bridget’s waist and moved her out of my sight.

“Come on, fucker,” I said, ready for a fight. I needed to beat the shit out of someone, and who better than a guy she’d probably already fucked in my absence. His fist connected with my face. I wanted the pain, so I didn’t even try to duck. He moved to hit me again, but I ducked and slid off the barstool.

My fists flew in rapid succession, smashing the guy in the face and ribs. He landed a few more punches before I knocked his ass out. He lay on the floor at my feet before I was able to look around. The entire bar had erupted into a fight. People were punching each other all over the room, and the girls were ducking under tables and heading for the doors.

I knew my body would be sore, and I’d feel every simple movement tomorrow. Every stab of pain would be worth pouring that pitcher of beer over her head. How dare that whore blame me for literally fucking up our happy ending. She was the one with her legs spread—not me.

My life was like an inescapable black hole. I worked hard and played harder, needing to lose myself in booze, women, and drugs. I wanted to dull the pain, escape reality, and just forget everything. The problem with my method is that it’s only a momentary Band-Aid for the scar that stays with you a lifetime or eventually bites you in the ass.