I moved out and for awhile it seemed like we might actually be able to be friends. Cheyenne certainly seemed comfortable calling me whenever she needed a ride somewhere. The fact that she acted so damn nice all the time concealed was a parasite she is.

About a week after I had moved out we met for brunch. I don’t know if Cheyenne had meant to invite other people or not but it was just the two of us. Cheyenne was hung over again, having spent another night at the strip club. When we sat down I noticed she had a large hickey on her neck. This was a little surprising since I had only moved out a week ago.

When I asked her if it was a hickie she became embarrassed and attempted to simultaneously apologize for it and deny its existence. She had mentioned in passing that Marl—the little maggot who had bought me the lap-dance– had been at the strip club again last night and had given her a ride home. I asked her calmly, “Did Marl give you that hickie?”

“Oh, no!”, she said, “I’m not attracted to Marl! Are you kidding? He’s so short!”

I could tell she was lying though. She also proceeded to tell me her plans to go to New Orleans with Marl and some other friends. But certain details in her story didn’t add up: it was obvious that she and Marl were going to New Orleans together alone. I took her home.

Over the next few days I tried not to think about Cheyenne and Marl but certain details kept nagging me. People who had been very friendly to me after the break-up had stopped returning my e-mails. This caused me to wonder if Cheyenne had created another awkward social situation that everyone knew about but me.

Then another piece of the puzzle came to me: while I was at work Cheyenne would always use my laptop even though I asked her not to. (She said that her laptop was too heavy.) I could always tell when she had been using my computer because strange files would be scattered across my desktop and my internet preferences would be changed. I hadn’t thought about it while we were dating but in my history I kept finding a page labeled: “Facebook: Marl.”

That page had been appearing for months. Had Cheyenne dumped me for Marl? Had Cheyenne been cheating on me with Marl before breaking up with me? Did I need an AIDs test? I felt ill when I thought about how Cheyenne had tried to talk me out of using a condom when we first hooked up. Then I remembered the password for Cheyenne’s e-mail address.

End of Part 5. To be continued. Soon. Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4