A Part of Me

I have never cheated on my wife. But there was one time when I almost did.

Hello readers. Thanks for dropping by! Welcome to another story submission.

Keep those stories coming! Just send them here.

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“A Part of Me”

We met in college then got married right after we graduated. Two years later, we welcomed our beautiful daughter. Now she’s 11. Life seems to be good. But what my wife doesn’t know is that I’m bisexual. This isn’t something I think about all the time, but it’s a part of me. I’m equally attracted to men and women, and chose to live a heterosexual life. I’ve been happy with my family and I couldn’t ask for anything more. But every now and then I feel the urge to explore that other side of me. I have never cheated on my wife. But there was one time when I almost did.

I travel for work. Sometimes for a week at a time every month. While on a trip, my co-workers decided to go to a strip club on a Thursday night. I was too tired to go, I said. But that night I decided to go to a gay bar in town that’s about 5 miles away from the strip club. All I wanted was to get a drink or two. It had been years since I stepped into a gay bar. The previous time was when I was still in college before my wife and I started dating.

And so I sat at the bar having a beer. The gay bar wasn’t packed at all at 10:30 pm. The bartender said Thursday nights weren’t usually that busy.

A guy sat down beside me and ordered some cocktail. Saw him looking at me at the mirror facing us. He said hi and I saw hi back. After minutes of talking he said he wanted to “get out of here.” I paid my tab and walked out with him. He didn’t drive to the bar because he lived just a couple of blocks away. He asked me if I wanted to continue our conversation at his place. I told him “I better not.” But he finally convinced me to go. I offered to drive since I didn’t want to leave my car there. When we got to his house, I parked right on the street. “Why don’t you park on the driveway?” I needed a fast get-away, just in case, so I said the street was fine.

I followed him to his door. He tried to hold my hand but I pulled back. Once we got in, we were greeted by his dog, a golden retriever. It reminded me of my dog when I was a kid. He took the dog into the bedroom so both he and I could have some time alone in the living room. We sat on the couch. We were silent for a while as if we ran out of things to talk about. I ran out of things to talk about, and I was nervous. I shouldn’t be here, I thought. “Do you want a beer?” I said no, thanks. He got up and got himself a beer. Sat back down beside me and started to play with my hair. It felt really good. He leaned over and kissed me on the lips. I pulled back. He pulled me towards him.

“This is a mistake. I shouldn’t be here. I’m married and I love my wife,” I told him.

He said he didn’t care about all that. I got up, thanked him, and walked out the door. I have to admit that I almost decided to walk back to the house, but I kept walking to my car. I just couldn’t do it, even though I wanted to. Drove back to my hotel and pretended it never happened.

Every now and then I think about that night. Maybe someday I’ll give in and do something about it.

 

Bitch

I received an email from a former co-worker. She was asking if I could hand her resume to the HR department of the company I recently joined.

Good day! Today’s featured story is one of those “oh no she didn’t” kind of stories. Thanks to the author for sending it in!

Do you have a story you want to share? Submit it for everyone to read!

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“Bitch”

I received an email from a former co-worker. She was asking if I could hand her resume to the HR department of the company I recently joined. She and I didn’t have a very close working relationship but I worked with her on a couple of things at my previous company. She still worked there at the time but she was wanting to leave because she hated her boss. To be honest, I liked her boss, and I learned from another colleague that my former co-worker just didn’t work well with her boss. And she tended to call in sick a lot or would miss work for some random reason of the day.

Before handing her resume to one of the recruiters, I looked it over and found some things that I thought needed to be reviewed like dates and grammar. I’m not the best in grammar but I could easily spot those errors I found on her resume. They were that bad. I emailed her back and gave her suggestions on changes. She replied with “I don’t see why those changes are needed, but ok. Changed. Thanks.” Which I interpreted as “How dare you criticize my resume.” Whatever, girl. I tried to help and it backfired.

Sent the revised resume to the recruiter. The next day the recruiter said he wanted to have a chat with me. During my meeting with him, he said her resume looked strange because the information on it wasn’t consistent with her LinkedIn profile. Well, we all know recruiters do their homework and research. He pulled up her resume and her LinkedIn profile and put them side by side for comparison. Sure enough, the inconsistent chronological order and overlapping dates made it look suspicious. The recruiter told me that he can’t talk to her until she reviews her resume and fix whatever needs to be fixed. He said, “I’m not saying that she’s lying, but…”

I immediately called my former co-worker. Voicemail picked up. Left her a short message, telling her what the recruiter told me, and asked her to call me back.

I didn’t hear from her until the next day. She didn’t call me back but texted me. Her text said, “WTF? What else do I need to do? Did you even try to explain to him that we worked together before?”

We had a back-and-forth argument via text. I told her that I’m doing her a favor by sharing her resume with my company and that I didn’t deserve the treatment and attitude she was giving me. I mean, the nerve!

Long story short, I decided to tell the recruiter to disregard her resume and that she’s not a great fit for the role. The recruiter said that he wasn’t going to pursue her anyway because he had seen enough reasons to disqualify her.

She then kept texting me asking about my conversations with the recruiter, and if I kept at it to get her in. I stopped responding to her harassment.

Then one day she left me a voicemail. She was screaming and calling me names. Oh, I have had enough of it! I emailed her boss (he and I worked on a number of projects in the past and we had a great working relationship). I wrote, “Did you know that [******] is trying to apply for a job at my company? She asked for my help but she’s been very rude to me during the process and left me a very disturbing voicemail. Telling you this just so you know.” Her boss emailed back and said, “Thanks for letting me know. I’ll take care of it.”

A few days later I heard from someone else that my former co-worker got fired. Not sure what the reason was but I’m sure she’s not going to get any more help from me.

Stay tuned…

Hello readers and authors, thanks for visiting this site and also for sending in your stories. It’s been one of those days when my day job got a bit too hectic that I couldn’t stop and post one of the stories sent in. I’m going through some story submissions and will be sharing one of them tomorrow. So stay tuned!

And don’t forget to keep those stories coming! Submit them here!

If you want to read the stories submitted so far, go here then scroll down for the previous posts. (I’m in the process of changing the layout of the website so it’ll be easier to navigate to previous posts. Please be patient.)

–Worst of Me Blog 💋

A Steal

Money didn’t come easy when I was in college but that was not the reason I stole that wallet.

Thanks to “Justin” (not his real name, of course) for submitting this story.

Be like “Justin” and send your story: worstof.me/submit-your-story

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“A Steal”

Hello. My name is [********] [edit: for the sake of anonymity we’ll call him “Justin”] and my story is not that shocking. I’m sure a lot of people have stolen things before. Let’s say I stole someone’s wallet but it isn’t for what you think.

It wasn’t for the money. Not really. Money didn’t come easy when I was in college but that was not the reason I stole that wallet. The guy was a friend of a friend. He didn’t even know me, but everyone knew him. I had the biggest crush on him, and that’s what made me do that. I wanted to have something that belonged to him, like a t-shirt or that kind of stuff. But the wallet, I thought, was a bit more personal. Let’s say I stalked him for a few days and studied his habits. We lived in the same building on campus and I saw that he rarely locked his door. He didn’t even really close it. Who does that? So it was so easy. I knew when he did his laundry and so I timed my visit to his room. Had to make it quick in case he decided to go back early. On his desk beside his laptop were keys, some coins, a pack of gum, headphones, and his wallet. I grabbed the wallet and left the room quickly. Another guy was in the hallway (scared me for a second) but he didn’t see me sneak out.

He had twenty dollars in his wallet. A visa debit card. A visa credit card. Some business cards from [************] and [******]. His drivers license. A piece of paper with “oatmeal” written on it (a very short shopping list???). Condom. I kept the drivers license. Then walked to the student union, went upstairs to a computer lab, tossed the wallet into a trash can.

The next day, I decided that I should get the wallet back so I could leave it in his room, thinking he’d need his money and cards. But when I dug into the trash can, it was empty. Too late.

It’s been 10+ years since that day and I still have his license. Looked him up on Facebook and saw that he’s married with 4 kids somewhere in [******************]. He looks happy. So I feel ok about my steal.

Guilt

I broke up with my girlfriend after being together for 3 years…

Here’s another story submission! Thanks to the author for sending this in.

Do you have a secret that you’d like to share but don’t want people to know that it was you who wrote it? This is your perfect chance. Click on the “Submit Your Story” above and type away!

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“Guilt”

I broke up with my girlfriend after being together for 3 years. The reason? I slept with her divorced mother and I just couldn’t live with that. Thought about coming clean and telling her about it but her mother begged for me not to tell anyone. We slept together for more than a couple of times. She knew I liked older women based on what my friends had joked about out loud, and so she talked me into meeting her at a hotel outside town to “explore” possibilities. Have no idea why I did it. I loved my girlfriend.

7 months after the last time I slept with her mother I broke up with my girlfriend. Couldn’t stay with her while carrying the guilt. Her mother wanted to have a relationship with me but I refused.

I ended up moving to another state to get away from all of it.

Escape

When I was young, I did something I haven’t told anyone and have been keeping it all these years.

The story below was submitted anonymously last night. Thank you to the author for sharing this story. — Worst of Me Blog

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“Escape”

When I was young, I did something I haven’t told anyone and have been keeping it all these years. I was visiting my grandparents during the holidays. I was especially close to them and spent more time with them than with my parents, who divorced when I was just 7 years old. So while at my grandparents, Grandma asked if I could drive to the city to pick up an old typewriter from her high school friend’s house who recently passed away. It was one of those mechanical typewriters that young folks don’t see nowadays. Grandma’s high school friend left in her will that the typewriter was supposed to go to Grandma. Not sure what the back story of that one is, but thought I’d mention that.

So I left for the city in my new car, which was just a couple of months old. The city was about an hour away and I left around 4 pm. When I got there, I went to Grandma’s friend’s house and met the widower husband. Let’s call him Mr. George. He was about the same age as my Grandma. He handed me the typewriter. It was heavy! So he offered to carry it to my car. I said I could manage and carried it out myself. I wanted to show him that I was a tough girl and didn’t need any help. He followed me to my car anyway to make sure I would make it there.

After placing that heavy thing in the trunk, he asked if I would stay for dinner. I looked at my watch and said, “Sure, why not? Thanks!” I asked if I could use his phone to call Grandma so she knows I’d be a little late going back.

After saying bye to Grandma and hanging up the phone, Mr. George asked me to help him set the table. So I did. And we had a good meal of lasagna. It was supposed to be his specialty and he mentioned that it was his late wife’s favorite. He said I could take home some if I wanted. It was very nice of him so I made myself a small doggie bag. I thought that Grandma and Gramps might want to try some, too.

I left Mr. George’s house close to 7 pm. I lost track of time with all the chatting we did. I kind of felt bad leaving him because he looked lonely and sad.

While driving, I happened to pass through an industrial area that had been converted into a bar district. There were not a whole lot of bars there, though. I wanted to stop for a drink. I debated whether or not to actually stop. And so I did. I parked in front of a small bar that had a tiny parking lot in front. There were already cars and trucks parked there, and I was worried that my car might get scratched or dinged. But I thought, what the heck?

I entered the bar. There was a small dance floor with the strobe lights already flashing. The music was on full blast and the lights were practically all turned off except for the strobe lights. I found my way to the bar, sat down, and ordered a beer. A few minutes later, a guy walked up to me and asked the usual “do you come here often?” I wasn’t wanting to chat so I didn’t put too much effort in keeping the conversation going. He offered to buy me my next beer and I said “I’d rather not. I’m driving out of town tonight.” But after his persistent asking, I caved in.

I ended up having 3 beers that night. Even after eating lasagna the alcohol still made me a little tipsy. I wanted to go so I got up and proceeded to walk outside. The guy who offered me beers asked, “Where are you going? We’re not done yet.” I said I needed to leave and that my boyfriend is waiting for me. (I didn’t have a boyfriend at that time.) He kept pulling me back to the bar and I kept pulling my arm back. I remember repeatedly saying “Let go of me!” He just laughed and said that I shouldn’t have taken up his offer if I wasn’t going to stay longer. The bartender told the guy to let me go, but the guy didn’t want to let go. A couple of guys who were there pulled him back and told him to let go. I immediately ran to the door and didn’t look back, I was so scared.

I got into my car and put in the key into the ignition. I realized that I was too buzzed to drive but I needed to leave the place. I started the car, put it in reverse, and jammed on the gas pedal. Then I heard a loud crashing sound as the back of my head hit the seat’s headrest. Then I drove forward a bit to maneuver the car out of the spot. While I was driving away, I looked at the vehicle I backed into. One end of the back bumper of the vehicle I hit was on the ground and one of the tail lights was smashed. There was a huge dent just below the trunk door. I panicked and sped out of the lot. I looked back in the rear view mirror to see if anyone was standing outside the door of the bar. I didn’t see anyone. That made me feel relieved even though I felt sick to my stomach at the same time.

I drove out of the city and then stopped at a gas station about 20 miles outside to check the damage on my car. Surprisingly the only damage on my car was the bumper—it got shifted up and a had a dent but not too bad. I couldn’t push it down to the original position so the damage was obvious.

When I got to Grandma and Gramps’ house, Grandma was waiting in the kitchen. I handed her the lasagna from Mr. George. She said, “Where have you been? We’ve been waiting for you. Are you ok?” I told them that everything was fine. She told Gramps, “Dear, could you please help her with the typewriter?” I told them that I could carry the typewriter from the car easily by myself. I got the typewriter out of the trunk and carried it into the house. I told Grandma that I’ll have to leave the next day to go back home because I had some work I needed to finish. She looked puzzled and asked why I didn’t tell them about it before. I had to come up with an excuse.

The next day, I got up very early so I could leave without them seeing the car. Unfortunately Gramps was an early riser and beat me to it. He was already outside to pick up the newspaper. When I got to my car, he was already standing there, staring at the damage. I told him that someone hit my car while it was parked on the street when I stopped at a store during my way back from the city. He gave me a weird look as if he didn’t believe me and then said that I should be more careful. I felt so guilty for lying to him. I had dug myself in a hole and I kept digging deeper.

When I got back home, which was earlier than I had planned, of course, I went to my auto insurance office to file a claim. I stuck to the lie and told them that someone hit my parked car and didn’t leave any note. My insurance agent didn’t ask for a lot of details during my meeting with her. A couple of weeks later, I got my car repaired and it looked like nothing happened.

I’ve kept quiet about this all these years.

Confessions

Release. That’s what we’re longing for when we’re tired of carrying this secret within us. Sometimes it’s easier said than done.

We all have something to hide. It may be something we’re hiding from our friend, partner, family, or from work, the justice system… The list can go on and on. Sometimes that something we’re hiding can’t come out for various reasons. It can go deep inside us, locked in the dark dungeon, never to see daylight. Maybe some select people already know but we wouldn’t dare say it out loud to another human being. What if someone finds out what we’ve done? What happens next? What if someone finds out our true selves? Would that change everything?

Release. That’s what we’re longing for when we’re tired of carrying this secret within us. Sometimes it’s easier said than done. Sure, we might say, “I’ll eventually tell my spouse I cheated,” or “When the time is right, I will tell my best friend that it was me who ruined that promotion for him/her.” But when? Or will it even come to fruition?

So I created this blog to allow for some release in an anonymous way. I, too, have some secrets I’m hiding that I’ve told myself that someday, it will be shared. Some of the things I’ve done in the past have negatively impacted people but without their knowledge. And those things are the worst I’ve done that I’m not proud of. No, I have never murdered anyone (and not planning on it), so I can assure you that’s not what I’m hiding. You can sleep at night knowing that. I’ll share some of my secrets on this blog later on.

So what’s hiding in your dark dungeon? Care to share? Just remember to not post anything that will reveal any identity, if you want to remain anonymous. You can trust that this blog will share your story, but not your identity.

To submit your story, click on ‘Submit Your Story‘ link above. Or go to this page directly: worstof.me/submit-your-story/ .

Share away!