I found out on my twenty-first birthday that my husband was a player. I learned that he had slept with most of the girls I know. So, we broke up for four months, but then he came crawling back. I knew that it was over, but I had revenge in my heart. I wanted to hurt him back for all of the pain he had put on me. So, I said okay and led him to believe that I wanted him back. The thought of having sex with him again made me ill. So, I made up an excuse to not have sex with him. I told him that under no circumstances did I want to have more kids, and he hated using condoms, so I was off the hook. I stuck to my guns for four months. Then one day I suggested to him that he ought to get a vasectomy to solve our sexual dilemma. He agreed and made an appointment with the doctor to have the procedure done. So, he went on a Thursday and got his vasectomy. The following Sunday as he was sleeping, I packed my clothes and dropped the bags on the bed. He woke up and I told him straight out, "You and I are finished. The vasectomy is your lesson from me for sleeping with my best friend, not to mention countless other women, years ago!" I kicked him out and never saw him again. Some call it revenge. Some say it was a job well done and laugh about the whole thing. But in all honesty, I feel free now. It was a victory for me. Plus, he left behind our two beautiful boys who have grown up to be good men. My sons are my true revenge and victory. "A woman scorned, hell raises," my grandmother used to say.
— Heidi, 46