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That Girl Emily

Sunday, July 30

Day 14. This is the grand finale. I really want to stick it to Steven one last time. And I wanted to make sure he was going to have plenty of time to contemplate what has happened to him and why.

And he’ll have the time while on hold, waiting for countless automated services and operators… See, the first thing I did was cancel all his credit cards by calling in and saying they were stolen. Same with his cell phone. Same with his online DVD membership. Same with his gym membership. I went online and changed the password to our bank account and changed the pin number to our ATM cards. I canceled Steven’s car insurance and reported his car stolen. I put an ad in a newspaper with Steven’s work phone, saying he had a fabulous 750 square foot studio apartment in Soho available for a steal--$300/month and to call him 24/7—can only imagine the message overflow! I made sure the post office will now forward all of Steve’s mail to an old folk’s home. And I signed him up for dozens of magazine subscriptions, such as “Guns and Ammo,” “Girls and Corpses,” “Creative Knitting” and “Boy’s Life,” to be sent to his office and I checked the “bill me later” box.

These past 14 days, I’ve done everything to make Steven’s life a living hell. It’s definitely been cathartic but I also realize I haven’t had much time to simply work all of this out in my own mind. To really absorb what’s happened to me. So I’m sure I’ll still be sad sometimes. But at least I’ll know I never took it sitting down.

I want to thank all of you for your support during my campaign against a cheating husband. It’s been an emotional rollercoaster and I’m just trying to make the best of it. So often, people are hurt by the infidelity of a loved one, and there’s no easy way to mend that pain. The last two weeks was only meant to embolden those betrayed to speak out, stand up for themselves, and find the strength and self-confidence to move on.

I hope this blog helps anyone who’s ever been hurt, humiliated or scorned. Helps anyone who has invested feelings in someone and then had them turned upside down and inside out. Hopefully, through my campaign, there are people who now better understand how much pain, anguish and grief is involved when you decide to hurt someone by being unfaithful. Also, if you think someone is cheating on you, I definitely recommend the private investigator my brother used, Vinny Parco from Intercontinental Investigations. He’s a real straight shooter – he showed me what I needed to know but he did it with real sensitivity and compassion. I think he has a show on Court TV. But no matter how you found out, I hope that those who have been hurt can at least live vicariously through me.

I’m signing off for now… but one final word: next time you’re tempted to cheat, think once, twice or however many times it takes – and if you need to, think of that girl Emily.

Saturday, July 29

One thing that really turned me on about Steven when we first met were the flowers he’d buy me. It’s something that I don’t think happens that often today, men buying women flowers. I don’t think any other guy I dated before Steven ever bought me flowers. It’s as if guys forgot forget that every girl, no matter what they say, loves getting flowers. There’s just something so purely romantic about it. And even after we married, Steven bought me flowers every two weeks. He promised he’d always do that, so that our marriage would always be as fresh as the flowers in our home. After about a couple of years, he forgot about that promise. But I didn’t remind him because I had been so grateful for all those flowers he bought me before., but I let it go and he’d still surprise me every now and then.

So yesterday, I thought it would be nice to remind Steven of his sweet ole ways and that it’d be even nicer if every woman in Steven’s office knew just what a romantic prick he really was. I used his credit card and ordered every woman in his office a dozen roses each, and had a note attached to them that said, “I’m a cheating bastard and I’d love to get in your pants too. Love, Steven.” I think I also accidentally sent a few dozen roses to a couple of guys in the office as well (oops!)! Anyway, I had them delivered yesterday, late Friday afternoon so everyone could take the roses home with them and enjoy fresh for the weekend.

Friday, July 28

I took a friend to see my billboard and we stopped by Katz’s Deli since it was right there on Houston. We somehow ended up chatting with the owner, who loved the billboard and was a huge supporter. He got an earful as I spilled my guts about my saga with Steven. He was so sympathetic, he offered me something I couldn't refuse: a custom-made sandwich to support the public humiliation of my cheating prick of a husband!

He decided to make the “Cheatin’ Steven” sandwich a HARD salami Reuben. There was a cute guy at the counter who overheard us and told me that he’d also like to make a sandwich in my honor – an “Emily’s Revenge.” I can’t wait to see what’s in it – I’m sure it will be delicious! That way, anyone can taste the pain and suffering by sinking their teeth into a “Cheatin’ Steven” or delight in relishing in an “Emily’s Revenge.” The cute guy made me blush when he said he couldn’t wait to taste “Emily’s Revenge”… I may have to come back here for lunch again soon! I can’t believe I got a sandwich named after me – it feels like I’m famous! How cool is that?!

By the way, I wrote earlier about how I dumped Steven’s stuff all over the street on Tuesday. I guess someone caught it on camera and put it online because a friend of mine saw it and forwarded to me. Wow, I really looked like a nutjob! And to the guy who got the TV—you deserve it more than my bastard husband! Anyway, here’s the link, check it out!

Thursday, July 27

There was one thing that really enticed Steven to move out to the 'burbs oh, so long ago. No, it wasn't so that he could carry on an affair in the city, where I'd be far enough away during the day that I couldn't catch him – or so he thought. Or maybe it was. Anyway, at the time, the biggest upside to moving into the suburbs was that he could finally buy a car. If you live in New York City there’s no need for a car and you'll pay through the nose for parking. Plus, the kind of car Steven wanted was too fast for the city streets. Suffice to say, we never had one when we lived in the city.

But in the 'burbs, you can't live without a car. So when we were deciding if we should move out of the city and start seriously planting our roots, building a future together (hah! those conversations today seem so surreal!), Steven sheepishly asked me if he could get whatever car he wanted. I said yes. So he got himself got himself a BMW - he'd always wanted a Beamer. It wasn't exactly the model he wanted but it’s what we could afford to finance at the time. But earlier this year, he upgraded to a brand new silver BMW 530i. He was so ecstatic about having this car. He had a Saturday morning ritual: coffee, newspaper, car wash. You couldn't even think about drinking or eating in that car. And one time on a road trip, he even tried to make me spit out my gum.

Well, the car you're looking at in this photo is the BMW 530i. Steven’s BMW 530i. I snuck into the lot where Steven parks in the city with my friend who served as the lookout. I brought a can of black spray paint and went to town while she took these photos. I saw some people staring in total disbelief at what we were doing but luckily they just kept walking. I would’ve given anything to see the look on Steven’s face when he saw his precious baby with a fresh coat of paint but we had to get out of there before someone grabbed us. I wanted to give Steven a good look at what it truly means to wreck your marriage. To get your marriage up to cruising speed and then slam it into a wall without your passenger wearing a seatbelt. The bird shit on top was icing.

Wednesday, July 26

For shits and giggles, today I tried out Steven’s password for remote access to his work email. I couldn’t believe it: the moron didn’t change his password, even after the fantasy baseball sabotage!

Now, I usually hate getting email blasts, but I felt it was time for Steven to reach out to his contact list. Let them know about what was going on in his personal life. After all, a solid support structure means a stable life. At least I didn’t send attached pictures of kittens sleeping next to dogs, a stupid chain email (actually, it would be great if they all passed it on to ten friends), or a link to save the monarch butterflies.

What did I do? I sent a simple little email to everyone in his contact list, business and personal:

Hi all,

I have gonorrhea. Just an FYI.


President, Small Dicks Club