Tag Archives: infidelity

Why Do Men Cheat?

“D-day” – commonly known as the day the allied troops landed on Normandy beaches, changing the entire course of WWII and the world as we know it. Fittingly, this is the term relationship counselors use to describe the day you find out your spouse has cheated.

On my D-day, I couldn’t make sense of anything. It was as if I had lost all ability to string logic together, and the only thought I was capable of forming was a single word.

Why?

If you want more sex, I am down. If you want variety of women, then buy me a fucking wig and call me Sandra. If you want to have your cake and eat it too, I’ll bake for you damnit. Don’t go down to prostitue candyland, my goodies are of much higher quality.

It plagued me for months, and it plagues some women for years. What in the hell is so wrong with me and my vagina that he needed twelve others to supplement? (Answer: Nothing. Your vagina is fine, and you should be glad that you don’t have thirteen.)

Saturday night, I met a cute boy. We talked intimately for at least ten minutes, and there was great chemistry happening. When he had to leave, he took out his phone. “Did you put your number in there?” he asked.

Something about his phrasing was very off to me. “No. You never asked me to.” I replied.

He said he wouldn’t ask, but he wanted it. I specified that he needed to ask.

Suddenly, his voice began to stutter. “I’m sorry,” he said “I went down a road that I shoudn’t have gone down. You are so beautiful, but I can’t ask for you number. You are amazing and I am so sorry.”

And then he was gone.

What is so wrong with me? I thought for the thousandth time. Being the appropriate level of drunk for an emotional breakdown, I started to cry in the middle of the bar. Then, after a pep talk from my dear friends Amanda and Hunter, it was clear: absolutely nothing was wrong with me. This man was spoken for by another woman.

So why did he risk whatever beautiful woman he has at home and step into this dangerous gray area?

From all of the lame excuses, counseling, and even the infidelity retreat I went to with my ex (romantic getaway, let me tell you), I have pieced together a top three list of why I think this happens. It may not apply to all cases, but there is a hopping bar scene and a cheater’s retreat full of men (and women) who prove me right.

Men cheat because:

…they like variety. A result of pure Darwinism. They are programmed to spread their seed around like fucking pixie dust. It doesn’t make sense to us females because let’s face it – who wants to be pregnant as many times as possible? Only that Duggar lady. No one else.

…they are bored. When porn became commonplace to my unemployed ex-husband, he needed a new hobby to practice while I was at work. Apparently, dating other women barely edged out crocheting. Oh, how I wish it had gone the other way. Think of all the sweaters I could have.

…they can.  “I didn’t think I would get caught.” That is what my ex told me over and over again when I asked him why. Funny how he thought he was smart enough to fool me for the rest of our lives, yet was dumb enough to save the receipt from a hotel room he paid for in cash. Once the gray area is entered, most people think they can get away with cheating. This is because in all truth, they already have. It’s pathetic, it’s terrible, and it’s true.

So how do we stop it? Role play as his third grade teacher? Make him a balloon animal so he doesn’t get bored? Microchip his ass?

As helpful and legitimate as these solutions are, it is my opinion that there is only one way to stop a man from cheating. Find a good one. A really, really good one.

But even if he cheats, know that in all likelihood, he would have cheated on anyone.

It’s not you, it’s him.

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Sometimes you have to forget what’s gone, appreciate what remains, and look forward to what’s next

-my coathangers, looking beautiful and ready to move downtown-

It is amazing how deeply entwined your life can become with another’s in such a short time. Even more so how long it can take to untangle the mess when your time together ends.

 –from the guestbook at our wedding-

In less than 24 hours, I will be as close to free as I imagine is possible at this point. I’ll take my boxes, all of the china, and our two furbabies to a new home where my ex-husband can’t find us anymore. A place with no memories, no expectations, and no regrets.

-from our favorite photos together-

I will be strong enough to leave behind the artifacts of our life together that I still secretly cherish when no one is around. The love notes I shouldn’t read, the cards I shouldn’t save – they will all stay here with a piece of my life that it’s time to walk away from.

-the letter he wrote me the first night I left him-

Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of my life. It’s the first day of yours, too. Remember to cherish what you have rather than dwelling on what you do not. It is never too late to begin again.

The Big Move-On

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Shoes Heal The Heart

As you can imagine, the months following my breakup (from my husband…. nbd…) have been full of ups and downs. Between sobbing in the middle of Macy’s and living it up with multiple one-night stands, life has been interesting.

Yesterday, I wondered what life was like for my ex. Usually, I like to picture him eating day-old fried chicken in his boxers and crying into the empty bucket when it’s gone. But for some reason, yesterday’s curiosity couldn’t be satiated by these hypothetical images. So I decided to look on his Google+ Profile.

Normally, his posts relate to very boring technology news and are supplemented by idiotic comments that use improper grammar (I always knew that should have been a red flag). The latest one, however, was a photo album from Austin’s “Carnaval Brasileiro”…which is apparently an excuse for men to look at women who are wearing only body paint.

My ex sported an open shirt, showing off his newly-waxed chest. Oh baby. Why did I ever let you go. He has many pictures with naked women (yay), but the ones that really bothered me were with normal-looking girls. Nice, wonderful girls who should be warned! The last thing on earth I want is for some unsuspecting female, much like myself, to fall for him. I just want to staple this notice to his forehead so badly:

WARNING. THIS MAN IS DANGEROUS. HE CHEATED ON HIS WIFE WITH UGLY WOMEN AT HOTELS THAT PROBABLY HAVE BEDBUGS (EW). HE ALSO HAS A PROBLEM GETTING IT UP AND STARTED TAKING VIAGRA AT THE AGE OF 25. TRUE STORY. SAVE YOURSELF THE TROUBLE. DON’T WALK – RUN.

Ladies, if you see this chest, RUN. RUN AWAY SO FAST. And he should be really upset that he no longer has me to tell him how much he looks like a tool in white pants. Disgusting.

Anyway, my day was very much brightened when I cam home to TWO lovely boxes from ShoeDazzle sitting on my porch. I think I’ve got butterflies again 🙂


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Love Actually is All Around

Christmastime is here.  I wish I could say that it hasn’t brought on any tears yet, but I can’t.

Interestingly enough, my family has no idea that I was crying myself to sleep from 10-12 last night. It’s not their fault, it’s mine. I don’t know why I have been acting so strange around them. I tell them I’m fine and even crack jokes about my ex to prove it.  Then, I run off to do my crying alone and make sure that the tears run down my face without sobs or sounds.

Maybe I am trying to protect them. When my ex decided to cheat on me, he hurt my entire family.  They have been almost as devastated as I have by everything and it breaks my heart to see what he has done to them, too.  I see the tears in their eyes when they ask me how I am holding up, the genuine care and love that they have for me.  Just yesterday, out of nowhere, my sister pulled me close in the middle of a bar for a tearful embrace. “I wish I could just keep you in a bubble and take you with me everywhere,” she whispered. “Then I could always protect you and nothing could hurt you anymore.”

I want to be strong for them, to show them that we are all going to get through this as a family and that next Christmas will be better.  I don’t want them to hurt anymore. I don’t want him to run our lives forever.

They know I am in pain, but I won’t let them help me. Why?  Why, when I have the most caring and loving family I could ask for, do I escape in silence to let my tears out? Why do I take their right to console me away?

Today, on Christmas, I am going to make a concerted effort to let them in. I know deep down that is what they want, and  I need to understand that they are in pain because of this, too. Maybe they need a good cry as much as I do.  Today, I will embrace my blessings and let my family feel whatever love, hate, anger, grief, and happiness they need to.  I can’t keep going on this journey alone, especially when I am surrounded by so much true love and support.

Give your family hugs today. If you are lucky enough to have one like mine, appreciate them for everything they are worth. Remember that love doesn’t have to be romantic. Sometimes the type that isn’t is the longest lasting, most selfless, and purest kind.

Merry Christmas.

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Out with the new last name, in with the old.

Hello, friends. I know that two posts in one day is a little excessive, but I couldn’t help but write this out. I know I use a lot of food and shopping to get through my problems, but writing is its own kind of therapy, too.

Today, I find myself really remembering the initial heartbreak of the day I found a hotel receipt with my husband’s name on it. I remember the physical agony, the loss of appetite, interest, excitement for life. I remember thinking that I wouldn’t want to kill myself, but if someone else did, I would be grateful for the release.

These days, the combination of friends, family, and happy pills blocks out most of those feelings. That doesn’t mean that they never rise up, but I do my best to keep them at bay. I have done a respectable job of desensitizing myself to most memories: pictures of the wedding & honeymoon, the china cabinet, the old dog tags with our shared last name on them.

This week, the pain is back as I change my last name for the second time this year. In addition to being a huge pain in the ass, it is a very emotional process. For anyone who has ever gone through a name change, you know how many forms there are. When I got married, I bought a name change service (called “Miss Now Mrs.”) to aggregate the forms. I logged back in today so that I could print out those forms for a second time, and the fact that I hadn’t even finished all of the forms for my first name change broke my heart.

I don’t know if a part of me is holding on to the beautiful relationship I thought I had, but filling out these forms is harder for me than signing the annulment papers was. I love all of the attention that comes with being single, and I am grateful for it in this moment. Nevertheless, it is hard to let go of my last tie to my ex. I loved him more than all of the food and clothes in the world, and I hope that one day, I can find someone else to love that much.

In a moment of self torture, I will share a couple of my precious wedding photos. It is a shame these will never hang on any walls again, because the love in them was so very real. At least from my side.

To love.

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