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When I got back, he was laughing at me. I told him that he didn't understand and he laughed even more. He told me that those kinds of stories were written by guys who hated women and just wanted to kill them all. He read them himself every time some girl dumped him before he dumped her.

I told him that this guy's stories were different. And he didn't hate women.

"Then why does he live with his daughter and three cars and never date?" he asked.

We ended up arguing about how he knew all of that stuff until I beat him into telling me that he knew my favorite author. I also promised to do his laundry for a month if he'd introduce me.

It went great. I met him at the Woodward Dream Cruise in Michigan last year. He took one look at me and promptly ignored me. He and my brother talked about cars for a while with me just standing there.

So I did what any Ohio girl would do or any woman with high moral values and self-esteem would do. I stalked him. It took months but I got him. We're getting married during dream cruise weekend this year. We've been living together for about six months and I'm happier than I've ever been.

We've had a few issues. My dad, a proud Ohio state grad almost had a heart attack when I told him I was moving "up there." (That's what he calls Michigan - he never says Michigan.)

So you can imagine my shock when my sweet future hubby told me that he had been invited to a bachelor party for one of his coworkers. He told me that one of his friends wanted to use this as a dress rehearsal for his bachelor party.

All of a sudden, I had visions of my sweety cavorting with strippers and other women of ill repute. It's not that I don't trust him. I trust him more than anyone I know. But I don't trust them whores.

Strippers with their giant fake titties and pneumatic backsides can tempt almost any guy.

Over the next ten days, I gave him a whole list of things that I would be really hurt to have happen at that party or his.

The easiest way to lose a guy is to tell him what to do, so I just told him what would really hurt me. He was fine with the list and he smiled at me. It really, really makes me hot when he smiles at me.

But back to the story (okay here's where the fiction part starts)

I was unloading the dishwasher the day of the party and I got to thinking. Most of you know how that is. But some of the comments I read have me believing that some of you really don't think.

I started thinking about him going to that party and I just saw all kinds of awful things happening in my imagination.

I saw some slimy stripper giving him a lap dance (that was on the no-no list. Giving him lap dances is my job). Then the bitch actually tried to get him into one of those VIP rooms. In her case, VIP must stand for Very Ignorant Pussy because there is no way I'd put up with that.

I looked at the clock. They were supposed to be leaving early and going to the club right after work. They were probably already there. I ran out of the house and got into my car.

I drive a red Mustang convertible. When my KIA started acting funny, my sweetie traded it in on this car and I love it. It's the best car ever.

I drove over to the club and there it was hidden in the back of the parking lot. Just seeing that flash of yellow, I knew he'd parked in the back. I went into the club. The bouncer didn't try to stop me. (I later found out he thought I worked there.)

I went into the room where I heard a bunch of guys yelling and some loud shitty heavy metal music playing. I recognized a lot of the guys. My sweety works with a few of them. How is it that guys with engineering degrees can become total morons when faced with a pair of titties? I looked around and did not see him. Then I noticed that in the corner of the room some skanky bitch was grinding on a guy who had on a familiar work shirt.

I was pissed.

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