5 Creative Ways People Got Revenge on Cheating Spouses
Infidelity. Adultery. Pulling in at a foreign port. Spelunking the forbidden squish cavern. These and even more hilarious euphemisms are used to describe what happens when a person in a supposedly monogamous relationship decides that maybe frolicking with someone else's genitals is in order. It rarely ends well.
Few people or cultures have ever supported illicit relationships that stray from whatever established one you're supposed to be in. Every so often you'll find a hippie commune of free love or some swingers who are cool with sexual dalliances, but the rest of us tend to feel betrayal and anger when we find out our snuggle bunny has gone off and snuggled all kinds of other bunnies and their dicks (or bunginas, as the case may be).
In a rational world full of level-headed people, when you find out you've been cheated on, you'll confront your partner and explain how you feel disrespected and that perhaps it's best if you go your separate ways. But what kind of shitty article would that make for? In the real world, people do this stuff.
A Yard Sale
Floozies are pretty fantastic in the right circumstances. For instance, you're at the beach house, you have a fridge full of beers and ribs, there's a party scheduled for every night, and you need to choose between Grandma, a nun, and a floozie. The wise choice is the nun only if she's also a floozie. If not, floozie it is. She'll be the most fun. However, if you're already married to a non-floozie, or at least a different floozie, then for God's sake, don't spend the weekend with a floozie. Has the word lost meaning for you yet? I'm borderline.
Somewhere in White Rock, British Columbia, a foolhardy fellow opted to leave his family for "a piece of trash" (the aforementioned floozie), and his wife was understandably left in a position of much chagrinment. Realizing that their relationship was clearly on the outs, she placed a Craigslist ad for his stuff. What stuff? All of his stuff. All of it was for sale, and all of it was to be sold before he got home from his weekend of enfloozery.
"I gave her the big D, y'all!"
I never run across sales like this, and that's sad, because I could use a new juicer and some Xbox games (the last one I bought was Injustice, and I beat that pretty quickly). If anyone who lives nearby would like to cheat on their wife, and then if any of the wives would like to sell all their crap at a steal, please let me know.
The local paper showed up, because everyone loves the circus, and people who attended claimed to get some pretty good deals on furniture, tools, and fishing gear. Unfortunately, there were no clothes available, as, according to the ad, they had already been burned the day before. Ha ha, vandalism!
Paul Osborn had been hearing unseemly rumors about his wife. Was she a One Direction fan? Worse -- she was a flagrant humptathlete, peppering the neighborhood with free access to her goodie bin. Or at least that's what Osborn claimed he discovered after reading some of her emails in which she discussed her sex life with another man. Osborn did the only thing a man in his position could do -- he went bugfuck ridiculous.
Taken under inspiration's wicked wing, Osborn decided to write up an ad for his wife on eBay. Not to sell her possessions, just to sell her. Starting at one cent, Osborn got bidding up to half a million British pounds, despite the ad specifying that she was worth "sod all." Sod! That's like trash!
"Is someone toasting provolone, or is that my vagina?"
The ad itself featured a picture of his wife picking her nose and described her as a "lying, cheating, adulterous bitch whore," although some news sources insisted it was "lying, cheating adulterous slag," which I must say I prefer, because "slag" is a really fun insult. It also included her cellphone number, the number of the guy she was sleeping with, and the number of the business where they both worked. All things considered, it was pretty charming.
The police were less than amused by Osborn selling his wife online and paid him a visit to warn against posting "offensive, indecent, obscene, and menacing" messages online, which means probably I can never use the Internet in England ever.
Car for 75 Cents
Tim Shaw is a British DJ, so he's an asshole you find charming because of his accent. I hope that British radio shows feature dignified sound effects and discussions about the economy and football, all whilst enjoying fish and chips or bangers and mash with liberal use of the "C" word, which, for those in the U.K. who never refer to it euphemistically, is "cunt."
On one particular show, Shaw was talking with Jodie Marsh, a British boobie model know for her boobies and her willingness to show her boobies. He claimed that he would be willing to leave his wife and kids for her, a joke that she may have found funny but that his wife, who was listening, found hysterical. I bet she literally slapped her knee.
After the knee-slapping subsided, Mrs. Shaw went online and listed Mr. Shaw's $38,000 Lotus Esprit on eBay (that's European for "ugly sports car") for about 75 cents. It sold in a few minutes, and a happy customer drove it away before Shaw even came home from work.
Seeing as Shaw didn't actually commit adultery, but merely made public his willingness to do so at the drop of a hat with a total stranger, he was able to make amends with a public apology on a television show, and he even got his car back for only about $7,500. Hopefully he really goes all the way sometime, not for the pain it will cause his family, but for the mirth it will bring the rest of us when his wife does something drastic, like gluing Japanese hornets to his scrotum while he sleeps.
The Shit Show
The video of a farmer who discovered that his wife had a profile on a dating site for farmers went viral at the beginning of 2013, which means everyone who watched it now has polio. In the video, the man shows his wife's profile on KissingGates.com, the most terribly named site this side of AnalBumInspector.com. Also, why "gates"? What the fuck does that even mean? Was "FarmDate" too complex? "BumpkinBoning" too esoteric?
After perusing her profile, the man goes outside, loads up a tractor full of horse shit, and dumps it into his wife's prized convertible before again mentioning why you probably shouldn't be using a site like KissingGates.com to meet people, you filthy, stanky harpy. Then we all have a good laugh and/or consider how it is that we, as a people, evolved to the point where we react to such things by filling each others' cars with literal shit.
Soon after the video appeared, speculation began circulating that it was in fact a viral ad campaign thought up by the makers of KissingGates.com. How do we convince people to use our site? Maybe ... can we convince them they'll get caught and have their valuable possessions destroyed by a jealous partner? Good plan!
I'm not saying this video is not an ad (which I refuse to refer to as "viral" because it's a shitty, meaningless buzz term that people on morning news shows use without having even the slightest idea what it means). I'm just saying that if it is an ad, it fucking sucks. This is like Pringles trying to make you by chips by telling you you'll get your hand stuck in the can and have to get it surgically removed if you buy them. This is like Spirit Airlines running a commercial that actually shows how terrible their service is while still expecting you to fly them. It's like a hooker showing you pictures of what your infection will look like once it's in full-blown gross mode before you actually pork.
"... and this here is what that burning feeling around your butthole looks like!"
I like to think this video is legit, because as a revenge video it's pretty great -- it's just several hundred pounds of literal shit in a car. That was hilarious in Back to the Future, and it's hilarious here.
This is as good a place as any to also bring up billboards, which surely someone was going to comment on eventually, something witty like "Hey Felix, what about the wife who paid for a billboard to out her cheating husband? That was a humdinger!" Humdinger it was, good reader, but alas, the ding it hummed was too good to be true. Turns out all those billboards you've heard about are straight-up lies. The most famous one, from a wife named Jennifer in Greensboro, North Carolina, was an ad for a yogurt place. A yogurt place.
Listen, I don't eat a lot of yogurt, and I don't understand the motivation behind going out for yogurt. If I need yogurt, I'll buy some at the store and eat it and it'll be vaguely satisfying. But the people who go out for yogurt are apparently all like "Look, infidelity! Let's have yogurt!" or something. I have no idea. Also, if it doesn't mention yogurt, how the hell does it sell yogurt? Doesn't a viral ad campaign need to make some kind of sense? At all? At least the poop one was for a relevant website.
Sometimes a man wakes up one morning and thinks, "I absolutely cannot wait to do the humpy-jumpy with each and every woman I meet from now on." This is a terrible thought. Well, not always. But say you're a married father and your wife is no longer one of those humpees. And also maybe she's got a bit of a temper. Oh, that temper.
So Donessa Davis, a man with a curiously effeminate name, thought it would be best for him to put ads on Craigslist advertising his desire to ram his penis into things, notably lady inlets. Up to five women answered him, and they would meet at motels and most likely discuss the works of Luce Irigaray and sample artisanal cheese. Just kidding, they wiped their genitals on each others' faces and probably drank Pabst, the only food allowed in most motels.
Davis' wife discovered that her husband had been giving out rides on the baloney pony and took offense to this. Rather than confronting her husband directly, however, she contacted the women he'd been meeting, because apparently Davis had all the Internetting skills of a frontier-era prospector and had no idea how to keep his dalliances private.
"My Hotmail password was 1234, how did she crack it?"
After speaking with the women Davis had been shtooping, a plot was hatched. One of them contacted Davis to arrange a meeting. I like to think he was giddily anticipating some grunting and rutting about on sheets of suspect cleanliness while he met up with her and allowed her to both shackle and blindfold him. It was at this point that two more women he'd been seeing were invited into the room, and he probably realized something was afoot. And around the time they began to superglue his penis to his stomach, he was probably wishing he'd just gone home and watched a rerun of Big Bang Theory.
As you might expect, this kind of thing is illegal, so the women were arrested and charged with false imprisonment, and one also got a sexual assault and battery charged tossed in for punching him in the face, plus that penis gluing incident. Davis himself had to go to the hospital, where they busted out the Jaws of Life or whatever it is that detaches one's shlong from one's stomach in times of need. And he probably also learned a very valuable lesson.