I stood in the rain, my jacket's hood pulled over my head. A friend had told me they saw Lisa here. Lisa Wang, my high school sweetheart. When I saw Lisa emerge from a hotel and walk on the opposite sidewalk, brazenly holding an old man's arm, I flicked my last cigarette butt onto the damp pavement. Furious, I decided to confront her. I sprinted across two lanes to the side where she stood with her sugar daddy.
"Hey, Lisa!" I shouted at her.
The look on her face was exactly what I expected. She wasn't even a little unfazed when I caught her cheating.
"What the hell are you doing here?" she asked me. Even though she was the one who deceived me, for some reason, she seemed furious, as if she had caught me cheating.
"I should be the one asking, 'What the hell are you doing here?'"
"Who is he?" The old rich man asked.
"Oh darling, he's my ex," Lisa purred, planting a kiss on the old man's cheek. She turned her head, glared at me, and repeated, "What the hell are you doing here?" Then she shoved me in the chest.
"I heard people say you were sleeping around. I didn't believe them, but now I see you with my own eyes, and I feel sick. How long have you been doing this?" I asked, my heart aching.
"A few years," she replied, sighing dramatically. "But to be honest, I felt even sicker being your girlfriend. From the first day we met until now, what did you ever give me? Hmm?" She shoved me again. "Nothing… absolutely nothing. When I asked to go to the movies, you'd rather play cards with your friends."
"It's true, but—"
"When I asked to spend a day with you, you'd rather spend time sleeping." She pushed me again.
"It's true, but—"
"When I asked you for money, you'd rather spend it on your mother! She's getting older, what else does she want besides you having a wife?" She shoved me hard in the chest.
After every sentence, she'd shove me, and I'd stumble closer and closer to the road. Well, she did make sense, I suppose. I had neglected her many times for personal entertainment. I mean… I was a good boyfriend, but I needed my own space! By the time I realized where I was, she'd pushed me far enough that I was standing on the very edge of the road.
"Hey, stop pushing me! Can you just stand still and talk like normal people? Without you pushing me, I can feel your frustration in your voice," I said, trying to regain my balance.
Lisa looked around. She realized that her anger at me had not only brought me to the edge of the road but had dragged her along too. Then, a stupid eighteen-wheeler truck roared past us, causing a tidal wave of dirty road water to sprint towards us.
Lisa and I stood there on the side of the road, two pathetic rats thoroughly doused in the rain. Lisa shrieked as if she were being stabbed by a thousand tiny knives. Her screams were even louder than the tire traction in the rain. Her cheap makeup washed away, black eyeliner and mascara streaking down her cheeks. She looked like a ghost from a cheap 60s horror movie. With her long, black, silky hair, if you can't imagine her, just picture Anjelica Huston as Morticia Addams in the 90s. That's exactly the kind of makeup she had on: a very matte white face, bright red lipstick, and thick black eyeliner. I'm still not sure why she chose that look for her sugar daddy date. Maybe that's what attracts older men?
"I'm through with you!" she yelled at me, black tears mixing with the rainwater.
I actually felt terribly sad because of her tears. I was willing to forgive her, to start fresh. From that moment on, I'd be a better boyfriend, I'd pay more attention to her!
"Lisa," I said, and I held her hand. "You have tears in your eyes, which means you still love me, right?"
"I'm crying because you ruined my makeup and clothes! You're a street rat, and you'll die like one!" She slapped me, furiously wiped her black tears, and stormed back to her sugar daddy.
I stood there in the rain and watched Lisa get into the nice, beautiful Subaru SUV. When the car accelerated, the tires sprayed dirty water at me again.
This sucked. Really sucked. Lisa was the only girl I'd ever dated since middle school. I'd never cheated on her, but she'd just told me she'd been cheating on me for ages. So, I guess I wasn't such a good boyfriend after all, even if I thought I was.
I walked alone on the damp street, not sure where I was heading, when someone yelled at me.
"Hey, please give me some change!" a man shouted.
I turned around. It was a man bigger than me, holding a knife.
"Hand over your money or die!" he demanded.
"I don't have any money. And I'm really not in the mood to fight anyone right now. Leave me alone," I told him, turning to walk away.
"Hey!" he shouted.
When I turned around, I saw the big man stab his knife at me. I quickly grabbed his right hand and pulled him forward. I bent his elbow vigorously and punched him hard in the back. The man smashed into the brick wall of the building, impaling himself on his own pocketknife. Blood sprayed from his neck like water from a burst hose. The man lay there dying, crimson flowing from his mouth, nose, and neck. I took out my phone and called the police.
When the police and ambulance arrived, I was immediately handcuffed and hauled back to the station for questioning. After taking pictures and imprinting my fingerprints, I was thrown into a cell. Those evil officials didn't even bother to provide me with dry clothes! I lay on the cold concrete floor all night long. I swear to God, after leaving here, I was going to sue the police department for abuse! What was wrong with people nowadays? I was the victim! As soon as they saw the dead man, they arrested me for crimes I hadn't committed! If Bao Zheng had heard of such abuse, he'd be angrily tossing and turning in his grave.
Two weeks later, after the judge reviewed the CCTV video, he still charged me with manslaughter. I didn't have to pay any fines or serve more jail time, but I did have to take a one-hundred-hour anger management course.
The following day after I was sentenced, I sat in the class, listening to the teacher's lecture, thinking, "This class isn't suitable for me." I'd rather walk down the hall and enroll in the suicide management class. That would be more appropriate, considering I'd just been dumped by my girlfriend and robbed at knifepoint.
People say men are beasts, but honestly, I was the only man in that anger management class.
The next day, I finally figured out why there were so many women in the class. Most were stay-at-home moms who, because of the handsome coach, had purposely taken this class.
Therefore, from my perspective, women were actually hungry beasts, and I, apparently, was their delicious prey.