“Dear Dr. Kim,
“My girlfriend has just returned from a hen week with three love bites and two new tattoos. She pouts she got drunk a lot and can’t remember what went on. She assumes that we can simply carry on as usual, but how dare she treat me like this?”
— Puzzled, UK
Dear Puzzled:
Let me get something off my chest, first. When the hell did a hen party night turn into a hen party week? WTF? Does anyone (other than the Party Girrllzzz Set) think that any good will come out of this? Oh sure, a mob of drunken women, unrestrained by morals and good taste, out to have a good time without any consequences (they think) for a whole damn week? Let me tell you: under the term “Recipe For Disaster” in the dictionary, you’ll find this event as one of the prime scenarios.
And I won’t be distracted by the red herring of “Well, men have bachelor parties toooo!” because that’s a topic for another time, but suffice it to say, men are idiots and always have been. Women are supposed to be better than that, and increasingly, they aren’t.
And now that we’re here, let’s get around to your specific problem.
Here’s the executive summary, in case you haven’t figured it out yet. Your slag of a girlfriend — a self-confessed blackout drunkard — went away for one of these debauched parties, misbehaved utterly, got shagged by (at least) one other man and got two (more, I assume) tattoos.
There are more red lights flashing here than in Amsterdam’s Hooker District. In case you haven’t figured this out yet, allow me to list them: habitual drunkenness (not a good feature of any relationship), licentiousness (love bites? strange men nibbling on her neck? FFS) and multiple tattoos added without memory of the occasion(s).
In answer to your question, “How dare she treat me like this?” comes this not-so-comfortable response: because you let her. You are a weak, pussy-whipped excuse for a man who is allowing this bullshit to continue.
It’s probably too late for redemption, but here’s the deal. What you should have done, when confronted with the love bites, was demand that she get tested for venereal disease(s). And when she refused to do so — and she would have, claiming that “nothing happened” (probably a lie) — you should have tossed her out of your life, without regret or compunction.
Which is what you should do now. If you think that this particular leopardess is ever going to lose her spots, you’re delusional. So not ditching the bitch is going to ensure that your future life in her company is going to be an unending catalog of drunkenness, infidelity and impulsive self-destructive behavior.
If you want to live the rest of your life — or the immediate future, anyway — under conditions such as these, go ahead, forgive her and carry on. Just don’t expect any sympathy from anyone, because you don’t deserve any.
Somewhere out there is a better woman for you than this slut. You probably don’t deserve her.
— 
He should’ve dropped her when she first decided to go on this slag getaway.
I agree with butch.
When she said she was leaving for a week I’d have told her to take all her shit and leave the key and never come back again.
In fact, if she then told me she wasn’t going to go I’d tell her to haul ass anyway, after all, she “wanted” to go.
It starts in the mind, ya know.
Allow me to add: RIGHT NOW, go get a genetic test (23 and Me or others). You want a record of what your genetics are as a fallback position. At the first hint that she might be in a family way, (Oh, don’t worry, Darling. There’s no chance it could be anyone else’s baby but yours. Honest!) DEMAND a paternity test. Not just discussing it behind closed doors, but out in the wide open, backed up by a lawyer, because you’re probably going to need one anyway. You might want to hold off doing the “beast with two backs” until she tests clean medically, but you might want to give her a couple months to prove she wasn’t somewhere you didn’t want her to be.
One more thought. You might want to consider which possibility is worse. Were those marks left by an unknown male, or are they hen bites?