Guys Who Cheat On Their Girlfriend Quotes

I can’t go on like this. I’m not the guy who cheats on his girlfriend wishing all the time she was someone else.” Elation and fear washed over me in equal measure. “Cam, I…” “You want this. I know you do.

She’s the reason he will probably become an embittered old fuck before he’s even of legal drinking age, distrusting women and writing rude songs about them, and basically from here into eternity thinking all chicks are lying cheating sluts because one of them broke his heart. He’s the type of guy that makes girls like me frigid. I’m the girl who knows he’s capable of poetry, because, like I said, there are things I just know. I’m the one who could give him that old-fashioned song title of a thing called Devotion and True Love (However Complicated), if he ever gave a girl like me a second glance. I’m the less-than-five-minute girlfriend who for one too-brief kiss fantasized about ditching this joint with him, going all the way punk with him at a fucking jazz club in the Village or something. Maybe I would have treated him to borscht at Veselka at five in the morning, maybe I would have walked along Battery Park with him at sunrise, holding his hand, knowing I would become the one who would believe in him. I would tell him, I heard you play, I’ve read your poetry, not that crap your band just performed, but those love letters and songs you wrote to Tris. I know what you’re capable of and it’s certainly more than being a bassist in an average queercore band—you’re better than that; and dude, having a drummer, it’s like key, you fucking need one. I would be equipment bitch for him every night, no complaints. But, no, he’s the type with a complex for the Tris type: the big tits, the dumb giggle, the blowhard. Literally.

Most women have been in a relationship that they know is no good for them. Your friends and family know it is no good for you, but you’re too besotted to see straight. It may take a few attempts, some late-night crying sessions, some serious talking to from your girlfriends, but eventually you’re able to leave and look back with a mixture of regret and disbelief that you put up with that person for so long. The relationship may not have been physically abusive, but bad relationships can fall anywhere on a continuum, from the guy who doesn’t call when he says he will to the guy who has a wandering eye to the guy who cheats with your college roommate.

Roxanne, I’m so disappointed in you. I don’t even have words,” Coach’s voice booms. Suddenly, I forget that I’m sleep-deprived, dizzy, and irritable. Did Rox finally tell him she’s knocked up? When she doesn’t say anything, it sounds like he bangs on the desk. “Who’s the damn father? I want a name.” I glance around, looking for that weasel dick Ezra, but he’s conveniently MIA. “I’m going to ask you again,” Coach bellows. “Who’s. The. Father?” Silence. “Roxanne, do you even know who the father is?” He did not fucking ask her that. Then I hear it. The weeping. I don’t make a conscious decision to go in there, but next thing I know, I’m standing in front of Coach, ready to remove his head from his body. “Don’t fucking talk to her like that.” I must have a death wish. Roxy has her face in her hands. Leaning down, I pull her into my arms. “It’ll be okay, biscuit. Stop crying.” She wraps her arms around my waist and sobs against my chest as I glare at her dad. Like an angry bull, his nostrils flare. “You.” That’s all he says. He’s doing some kind of deep breathing thing that makes me think he might keel over and die. Which would be bad. I might hate him sometimes, but I know he’s a good guy. Deep, deep down. “Coach, it’s not the end of the world. Women have babies every day.” “I should’ve known.” That Roxy would get pregnant? “Coach, you need to calm down before you say something you regr—” “You fucking did this.” Me? “You’re the one who made her cry.” He points at me. “You got my daughter pregnant.” I freeze. I don’t budge an inch. He thinks I did this? That I knocked up this gorgeous girl and let her come in here to give him the news by herself? What kind of asshole does he take me for? The biggest kind. Of course he thinks I’m the culprit. Not Ezra, who’s been cheating on his high school girlfriend for years and kisses Coach’s ass at every opportunity.

Look at him,” another were muttered nervously, staring at me. “His eyes are fucking red. Damn, I wish I never woulda got into this. No money’s worth messing with a cursed one.” “Shut your fool mouth, Tozer, and let’s get him to Celeste,” LeeAnn snapped. “The sooner she does her little spell on his fanger girlfriend, the sooner I can kill him.” “You’re the one who’s going to die tonight,” I told her, my voice dipping down into a growl. “Oh, please,” she scoffed as they started dragging me up the hill. “I know your type, Victor—you’d never break the pack laws and do violence to a female.” “I wouldn’t,” I said. “But the thing inside me—the beast—it doesn’t care, LeeAnn. All it wants is blood. And if I can’t control it…” The wolf called Tozer went pale. “You hear that, LeeAnn? We need to get up out of here.” “We’ll be fine,” she said, giving him an exasperated look. “All that talk about cursed ones is just superstition and foolishness.” “That’s what you think,” he said darkly. “That’s 'cause you never seen what a cursed one can do. Your daddy has—that’s why he told you to leave this guy alone.” “Oh please.” LeeAnn rolled her eyes. “Daddy’s just trying to scare me so I’ll take the wolf he wants as the next pack master. Problem is, the only one I wanted was Victor.” She yanked viciously at the chain around my neck until I choked. “But he turned out to me a lying, cheating sack of shit.” “I never cheated on you,” I said hoarsely. “Because we were never together. Because my dad taught me not to dip my dick in crazy.” “Shut up,” she snarled. “You would have been lucky to have me—any wolf would!” “That kind of luck I can live without,” I growled. “Thanks but no fucking thanks.

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