To cheat or not to cheat

Cheating

“To cheat or not to cheat, that is the question.”

Let’s be very clear on this point cheating is not a nice thing to do or have done to you, but it happens.

Probably the greatest challenges to any form of committed relationship is when one partner goes outside of it to look for a connection, either physical or emotional.

So when people find out about infidelity, they often make up all kinds of assumptions in their minds about how and why it happens.

More often than not, those assumptions are wrong. For example, most affairs happens to people who aren’t actually looking for them.

I’m in the process of writing another article on some of the most commonly held myths about infidelity and cheating, so watch this space.

I must admit I am actually personally drawn to the polyamorous relationship life style because of my abject disdain for cheating and the damage it causes.

I will not cheat and would never even consider getting involved with someone who is cheating on their partner(s), because in my view its just not necessary.

Source: To cheat or not to cheat.

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4 thoughts on “To cheat or not to cheat

  1. Grab your popcorn, I’m gonna tell a story.

    I was married to a narcissist for ten years, 1972 – 1982. I didn’t know that people like her had a name, or that it’s a pathology. Mind you, I’m not big on psychologists and their ilk. But she was extraordinarily selfish, everything revolved around HER. Because I was in love with her (or a reasonable facsimile thereof), at first, I was delighted to give her whatever she wanted. Soon enough, I found out that my best was never good enough. At first, I thought it was my fault, I wasn’t making a lot of money; but she was constantly on me to “clean up my act,” which meant cutting my hair and go the suit-and-tie route – which simply is not me. As time passed, I began to resent the fact that she always had whatever she wanted, new cloths, new stuff for the kitchen, new curtains, bedsheets, stuff for the bath, while I got nothing. In those days I was an aspiring musician, only you can’t be a musician without an instrument to play, in my case, a good guitar. Hey! I’m an old hippie! It took until 1981 before I got one, and then it was, “You’d better start performing and making money with that thing!” I was 33 years old, and, if you haven’t noticed, fame and fortune in the music industry belong to the 16 – 21 year olds. Explaining this to her did no good, so I began auditioning musicians after being nagged about it for a year. This had a rather untoward result. One Friday evening I had scheduled some time for a lady singer-guitarist. Now, throughout all of this time, I was loyal and I loved my wife. But I was getting increasingly more miserable. Having sex had turned into an ordeal which I did my best to avoid. And! Throughout this whole period, she was always suspicious of me: heaven help me if my eyes lingered for more than two or three seconds on another woman. “You’d like to fuck her, wouldn’t you!” Most of the time, the answer was “No.” But no convincing her of that.
    Well……I was out in the yard when my prospective guitarist pulled up and got out of her car. When our eyes met, I had an instant case of, “UH-OH!” Meaning, I wanted her badly, and it turned out that she had similar impulses. This was not lost on my wife, who began accusing me of the wildest adulteries possible. I wasn’t doing anything like that, because to me, it was wrong. Between my lady guitarist and I, we admitted our feelings for each other, but we agreed, adultery was wrong. For nine months, I was accused of transgressing my marital vows. It got so that I was only sleeping for two or three hours a night because I was upset by the accusations. It was in that last month that my desires began to get the best of me. I told my wife that if she kept badgering me, I WOULD leave, despite the fact that we had two small children. Well; give someone an ultimatum, and they’ll go precisely the wrong way. I was at work when my wife called me and told me that she’d told the lady guitarist to never see me again. I left work, went home, packed a few things, and to my wife’s utter disbelief, I walked out. I called the lady guitarist and we agreed to meet after work. An hour later we were in a motel, doing what we had been accused of doing all along. We did this six times. And we did this together for the next five years.

    I regret having left my two kids in the clutches of that bitch. She did great evil to them as a mother. But as the years passed and my daughter and son matured, they began to see her as she was. I was able to tell them that, if I were to be a father to them at all, I had to survive to be one; that, had I stayed with her, I would certainly have killed myself. If a man is not good enough for his woman, what other fate does he deserve? THAT was the conclusion I’d lived with for the better part of a decade. But I did survive, and finished growing up at the tender age of fifty, which is when I met Sara. Fourteen years later, Sara and I met Ceannt. “The rest is history.”

    And my ex-wife? She’s a lonely old lady. In the broad and enlightened sense, this is terrible. I do hope that before she leaves this life, she wakes up and meets a good man or woman to love. But personally? I have NO sympathy for her. I do not hate her, because to hate is to hold close to one’s self the person one hates. You would not clasp a dog-turd to your lips, yet hatred is a way of doing just that.

    Liked by 2 people

      1. When I left I had no choice but to leave them behind. I was paying horrific child support on low wages. Here in America, the children’s welfare courts – called “chancery” – have successfully bypassed the abolition of Roman law’s “debtor’s prison,” where you go to jail until your child support payments are made. I avoided jail by being a petty criminal, selling weed at profit from 1982 until 1996. This had its own dangers, jail for 15 years at the time. Throughout this whole period she painted me as an evil Lothario and herself as this innocent, doting housewife. Up until the late 1980s I was only able to see my kids once every couple of weeks. Before you get the idea that I was Saint Innocent, I had my own grievous faults; back then I drank a lot and smoked as much weed as I could get my hands on. I kept on working, though, knowing that my “sentence” of child support would end some day. In 1996 I sent the chancery court a certified letter ordering them to cease stealing money (called “garnishment”) out of my paycheck. It was only then, at 48, that I was able to build a new and better life for myself, and then for my kids. The turning point came in 2009 when my daughter asked me to tell my side of the story. Her mother had been treating them all along with the same cold-hearted ME ME ME and my daughter finally put together the idea that, maybe Mom wasn’t so good after all.

        We all of us have a part of ourselves, buried early by our parents and our culture, that KNOWS we were born innocent and free. Sara’s love enabled me to find myself as I was meant to be. From then until now it has been practice practice practice this self-knowledge. And when Ceannt joined us in 2011, it was another kind of practice – heh! – that of being a ‘practicing bisexual!’

        Thanks for asking and may all that is good go with you. Roy

        Liked by 2 people

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