The Cheating Kind
We haven’t really discussed this before, but it may come as no surprise that I come from a long line of cheaters. In fact, aside from a very select few, every member of my family has been unfaithful to their spouses. Could the fact that I was born into a marriage which was over even before I hit the womb be the cause of my extreme marital trepidation? Could that be the reason why I shy away from a serious, meaningful relationship that might lead to that long walk down the aisle? Could that be why I place such a high value on those ever-so-popular words: love, trust, honor, integrity…?
Perhaps. Okay, probably. Oh, who the heck am I kidding? YES.
As I look around, everyone is cheating. Why is no one satisfied? And it’s not only guys. I actually know more women than men who are having affairs – multiple, in fact. And not only are they affairs – they are full-blown relationships. These people are truly living two separate lives. They go out in public, they act as a couple, and no one is the wiser – or in some cases – they are the wiser and it’s accepted. Just how are they getting away with this? And, why are they doing it?
So you know me, I asked a few of them. I would love to say there was a clear-cut explanation, but there really wasn’t. The immediate stock answer was, “He/She gives me what I don’t get at home…” Fill in the blanks – attention, ego-stroking, sex without negotiation, you name it, if they weren’t “getting it at home” they figured out where to get it – and got it, no problem. And, in the typical high school answer, “Everyone is doing it.”
But why is it so easy? And why is it actually, acceptable? I don’t mean to be holier than thou, and I’m the last person to place judgment on sexual behavior, but whatever ever happened to marriage being something to work at? What about “for better or for worse?” If my legacy is infidelity, why am I working so hard trying to find true love? Why do I have this burning desire to be the woman of some man’s dreams? Shouldn’t I just accept my fate and live a life of dissatisfaction? I guess there is still that part of me that believes. And that’s the whole problem in a nutshell. I still believe. So sue me.
For most of my life, it seemed like such a simple plan. You meet a mate, you fall in love, you get married, you have kids, and you live happily ever after. Nowadays, you still do all of those things, but somewhere down the road you “couldn’t help it” and you fell in love with someone else. So why not leave? Why not end your marriage and be with this person who is your “soul mate?” I just don’t get it. Maybe I’ll never get it. Maybe my brother was right and I’m really adopted. Whatever it may be, I must have missed the stop on the cheating bus. And boy, am I glad I did.
I guess it’s like that old saying, “Why does a dog lick its balls? Because it can.”
Plan B: Forget Plan A?
As I embark on the third month of my “If you build it, He will come” year, I have to take a moment to reflect on last month’s progress. Gotta say, compared to January, February was more than a little painful. In fact, I think I have a few battle wounds.
It started out fine; I began the month with three seemingly great men interested in me – and I was actually interested in them. They were courting me – I thought I was onto something. Was I finally getting it right? A natural progression happened, the one I was least interested in fell off the map and honestly, that was okay. Valentine’s Day came and went; I came out relatively unscathed, and even got a card. I know, I know – we’ve discussed this.
But then the “Dear [She Said]” text happened and for the second half of the month, it was all downhill from there. It was as if the clock had struck midnight and I was left standing in rags with my broken-down pumpkin and not a glass slipper in sight. There wasn’t even the token field mouse to stand and shrug his shoulders as if to sigh and say, “Oh well.” But, I guess that’s why God invented fairy tales. Er, I mean, Disney.
Things started looking up briefly when I met a tall drink of water out with his brothers for a birthday celebration. It was as if I had hit a 3 pointer with my eyes closed and the game went into overtime. A few nights later we went out, all five foot-three of me, and six foot-five of him. He had brains, he had looks, he had manners, a dry sense of humor – and we didn’t meet on the internet. I was overjoyed. And then: “Dear [She Said], I really enjoyed talking with you the other night… You are very cool, very hip, and very smart, yet modest at the same time. But to be honest, I’m not sure we have any real sexual chemistry. I just don’t feel the attraction. Please don’t take that as a slight in any way. I think you’re great and would love to be friends with you, but I’d understand if you’re not into that. I hope to talk to you soon, Best, [Tall Drink of Water].” Seriously, why is it that no one can pick up the phone? Or, how about just saying NOTHING at all? For someone who has a love affair with the written word, I have to admit that I’m definitely not digging all the rejection in print these days.
Okay, let’s move on to the other fallout from my new position as CEO of my global dating empire: My friends are pissed. It would seem that my attempts to be mated have disrupted their scheduling of having me to themselves at any given moment. See, here’s the thing… The ones who are complaining? Not the ones who are single. The single ones know the code: Penis has priority. They accept the code – because they too live by the code. I know I haven’t been as available. I know I have been swimming in the deep end for 60 straight days. But is it time to get out yet? I’m not sure. Part of me is getting weary. Part of me doesn’t know how much longer I can keep my head above water. I can only cover my bruises for so long before they start to show. Maybe I need to get out for a bit and spend time with my friends. Then I can always jump back in.
Or maybe I should stay in just a little longer…
Dress For The Job You Want
Still licking my wounds from the recent [Salt & Pepper] break-up by text, last night I decided to give myself a big dose of ego medicine – in the form of my friends. So I had a few of them over for dinner. A few meaning two – one of my best guy friends, and one of my best girl friends. It wasn’t planned; one was coming over to hang out, drink all my beer and get a free meal and then the other spontaneously joined. Guess which was which. They actually happen to be two of my favorite people, and with all that, they had never been in a room together until last night.
A funny thing happened on the way to the oven: instead of being the usual center of attention, I got to be the observer. And I liked it. A lot.
As I watched his chest puff up and her cheeks turn pink, I suddenly realized that for one night only, I had the best seat in the house. The next 4 hours were just what the doctor ordered: a big, fat lesson on love.
In one corner – my brilliant, Ivy League educated, rock-hard bodied girlfriend, swimming in my sweats, sitting Indian style in my dining room chair like a 12 year-old girl, her pupils dilating as she quickly filled up on wine and love advice being doled out fast and furious in the other corner. In that other corner – my (also) brilliant guy friend who’s got the looks, the brain and the charm – and knows how to use all three simultaneously. In between swaggering across the room to check the score of the game, he straddled my other dining room chair, dispensing love advice like he was Dr. Laura after midnight.
Wine and beer bottles started clinking in the recycling bin – the questions became more direct – and so did the answers. She started out subtle at first, “What does it mean when a guy…?” Or, “Why do guys…?” Or “Does it freak a guy out if…?” I have to give my buddy credit – he didn’t sugarcoat a thing. And I actually learned a few things myself; mostly by observation of the gut-wrenching, honest conversation taking place – one that consisted solely of her seeking validation and him giving it – most of the time.
Then came the final question: “There’s a guy I’m kind of into at work,” she said, “I don’t know if he’s interested. What should I do?” Without skipping a beat my guy friend said, “It’s simple. Wear a dress tomorrow.”
Hang on – is it really that simple? At the end of the day, does it actually come down to – chivalry? After all this time, and all of my confusion, my questions can be answered with one simple directive? Come to think of it, my grandmother always said, “Act like a lady and you’ll get treated like one.” Hmm, maybe she was right. I really have to start wearing perfume again.
I guess we’ll find out if he was right because next thing I knew, my girlfriend was in my closet, stripped down to her underwear trying on my dresses. I sent her home with a sure winner, and assured her as much.
And with an emphatic thumbs-up from the guy in the other room, she then believed me.
Read ‘Em And Weep
“Hi [She Said] – It has been really great to get to know you. You are a great person and you make me laugh. I have recently met and been spending time with another gal and it’s a relationship that I want to pursue. I want to be honest with you rather than string you along. I do not think it fair to you or me. I hope you don’t think this text is a wussy way to handle this – I thought it was the best. I am open to your continued friendship and wish you the best in finding love. There are lots of things about you and our brief relationship that I miss already. Signed, [Salt and Pepper]”
I’ve said it before (usually unwillingly) and I’ll say it again. You were right. Again. Yep, you were right when you said you thought he “just wasn’t that into me.” You were right when you said something was missing, and you were right when you said I would know. Well, I know.
I guess I’m not really surprised. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew something was off, but so many things seemed so right, that the back of my mind didn’t matter. This wasn’t a long relationship, I shouldn’t be heartbroken, it shouldn’t really be that big of a deal, but for some reason, this one is stinging more than usual. Could I have fallen for him? Why does it hurt more? Why didn’t he want me? Why didn’t he pick me? And more importantly, why am I never the one anyone picks?
“You are such a giving person. You make me laugh and treat me like a rock star. My friends think I am crazy to give you up and that I should just date lots of people and enjoy the single life… You will always be my Valentine and I will always think about you with a smile. Nobody is better than you.”
Huh?
I have to admit, as being dumped goes, this guy did a great job. He actually made me like him more after he dumped me. I just don’t get it. Why go through all the song and dance of 10+ dates, the impromptu Valentine’s card in the mail, home-cooked meals and make-out sessions on the couch. If “nobody is better” than me, then why isn’t he with me?
And why does it hurt more than usual?
So what do I do now? The thought of going “back to the drawing board” is painful. But the thought of not? Even worse.
Cheaters Never Win And Winners Never Cheat
I don’t think my parents ever cheated on each other. I never even thought about it as a kid, but even now, with my experience as an adult in this age of infidelity, I’d still bet my monthly rent on the two of them being completely faithful for all 50 plus years of their marriage. Therefore, I have no idea what it’s like to be you, at age 6 or 10 or 14, knowing deep in your pre-pubescent gut that your parents, whom you’ve been trying to not only please, but also understand since your 3rd birthday, have both been screwing other people on a regular basis during the time they were supposed to be raising you. I can see where that might make a kid feel like a worthless piece of shit. I’m glad you didn’t let that feeling define you later in life. You didn’t let that feeling define you, did you? You’re over all of that by now… aren’t you? You’re fine – right?
I’ve cheated on girlfriends before – probably all of them. I rationalized that it wasn’t cheating because we weren’t married. Cheating can only happen between a husband and a wife. I had to rationalize this, or I would have felt too guilty. So why do people cheat? For me, it was boredom. Sex with someone you truly care about is the best there is, but sex with someone new and different who’s drinking your Kool-aid with a straw is a very close second. Maybe the order gets mixed up sometimes. I choose not to judge any of it. I know for a fact that I’ll never cheat again – without a doubt. The lasting sense I have from when I was unfaithful is not how guilty or how ashamed it made me feel, but the knowledge that I was just being a lame-ass coward – too scared to confront, too insecure to commit.
I hate to say this, but women who cheat are sexy. There’s something as sexy as it is sinister when a woman cheats. She’s so under control… so buttoned-up… so principled and demure. Then you find out she’s banging some dude she wouldn’t go near in her perfect life and my eyebrows rise in unison with another body part. I know it’s wrong. I know it’s as cheap and sleazy and cowardly when she cheats that it is when he cheats. But it’s still sexy.
People cheat – that doesn’t have to mean that you will, or that he will, if “he” ever comes along. Maybe having cheating parents has given you this sense of doom or created some black hole of emotional doubt that will always impact your love life. I don’t know, and I choose with utter confidence to think that is not the case. But the “belief” you’ve always lived by – the “belief” that there’s a better way to go? Please don’t give that up. That belief is what makes you better than the rest. That belief is what will make the whole journey worthwhile, whenever and wherever it eventually takes you.
You just have to remember to let it take you.
One Step Forward, Two Steps Back
Obviously you’ve never heard the old joke. Hard to believe, since I’ve been beating it to death since I was old enough to tell the difference between bad luck and no luck, but it goes something like this: “How do you make God laugh? Have a plan.”
I have no idea who invented these fairy tales that define the hopes and dreams of women everywhere. Maybe it was God, maybe it was Disney or maybe it was some short, bald guy with a really twisted sense of humor, but I’m afraid the joke is on you and your fellow females. There is no “plan” that will make romance happen. There is no “approach” that will bring the right guy to your door. As important as love is, it’s equally as random, internet dating and Grandma’s neighbor’s great-nephew notwithstanding. The thing is, you know this. You’ve always been one of the smart ones. So let’s get past all of this depressing fact and revisit the fantasy that causes bright, attractive women like you to even consider a game plan for meeting men to begin with.
Okay let’s evaluate your progress (?) so far, from my courtside seat. Let’s start with the texting. With all due respect to the fact that I could be labeled a pure dinosaur by asking, but is texting not one of the lamest forms of communication to come along since smoke signals? Especially when it comes to men. Breaking up with a woman via text is incredibly weak, but saying anythingvia text beyond, “Be there in ten minutes,” is equally as weak in my book. I get it – the year is 2010 and that’s how we roll these days. But I still say that a man who relies upon text to work his way into or out of a woman’s heart/pants is one giant pussy. Women are just as guilty, but for some reason, that doesn’t bother me nearly as much. My last girlfriend texted me to death, and I hated it – about 10% of the time. The other 90%, I loved it. So do us both a favor… The next time a guy asks you out, or in or all about via text, reach back to your blog of a few weeks ago, and just say no.
Now let’s skip to your friends – uh, they are friends, aren’t they? Friends can be funny sometimes. They are your biggest fans, as long as you remain in the exact box they picked out for you when you first met. Guess what? You just traded in the “always there for you” friend box for the “always there for you, but I have my own life, too,” box. Married people like having single friends. It enables a tiny part of each of them to always remain single; while also reassuring themselves that they made the right decision so many moons – and kids ago. I ask the same question I always ask about married people: How many of the married people you know would you trade places with? Exactly.
One step forward and two steps back… Not the greatest long-term plan, be it investing or dating, but it seems a little too early to scrap your 2010 approach just yet. It’s been a long, cold winter. Let’s clean the slate and look forward to spring.
Dress Rehearsal
Your grandmother was right. It has been true since the third grade. The way in which a woman presents herself is the single most defined portion of what a man thinks when he meets her. Part and parcel with this is the fact that a woman can only present herself as the woman she truly believes herself to be.
So you like to watch? Wait, you’re not talking about – oh, never mind. So you had people over? A man and a woman? She had a rock-hard body, and he… she had a rock hard body? And the man wasn’t me? Some friend you are.
It’s so cool when women have the stones to ask a man direct and honest questions. It’s not so cool when they decide not to hear the answers, unless they match exactly what they expect to hear going in. I for one appreciate the woman who asks; it’s the ones who don’t ask that you have watch out for.
As it turns out, just this past weekend I was in the same situation as your guy friend from last night. I went to an old friend’s birthday party and a therapy session soon broke out. In lieu of dessert, I found myself sharing a bottle of champagne with two single, female friends and fielding a slew of queries about the male species.
“What does it mean when a guy comes on really strong, and then disappears?”
It means one of two things: Either you gave it up, and he’s moving on, or you didn’t give it up, and he’s moving on. Either way, it’s not your problem – it’s his.
“I love him, but I want to have a child. He already has kids and doesn’t want any more. What should I do?”
This is simple. Either give up the idea of having a baby with a man you love, or give him up. Is it really that tough a decision?
“I really like this guy at work. I think he likes me, but he’s given no signal besides a little light flirting. What should I do to really get his attention?”
That’s easy – wear a dress. Okay, I stole that from your friend.
Somewhere there must be a discount bin full of books telling women how to be women. Why are women still asking the same questions, over and over? Maybe they haven’t liked the answers they’ve been hearing (or not hearing). Maybe they don’t trust us (gee, can’t understand why). Or maybe love has just been made too damn complicated. Maybe we need to break it down to its simplest form:
Don’t spend so much time thinking about us – unless you’re thinking the same thing about us that we are about you. Don’t disrespect yourself to make us like you – we won’t. Don’t allow yourself to feel incomplete without us – you’re not, and only losers and douche bags want to be with a woman who feels that way about herself.
Then, try your very best to stop thinking. The rest is up to us.
The Fine Print
Sometimes being right sucks. And this is officially one of those times.
Okay, so my first question is a no-brainer: “I hope you don’t think this is a wussy way to handle this…” God, I feel like such a chick when I say this, but are you kidding me, Pal? If it wasn’t a completely wussy way of handling things, would you have even thrown in that disclaimer? One of the hidden things I dig about being a grown man is knowing when, where and how badly another dude is full of shit. This dude may be honest, but he’s also full of shit.
My second question is actually an answer: I don’t know. I don’t know why he didn’t pick you. I don’t know why “they never” pick you. I don’t even think that’s the case, but you certainly do and that’s all that matters.
What I will say is the same thing I always say to you: DO NOT CHANGE. Not only shouldn’t you change, but at this point you can’t afford to change; you have defined yourself by your own cool combination of vulnerability and sex appeal. You are who you are. You cannot be anyone else – but we both know that you know this.
As far as his text message presentation goes, I have to tip my cap to this wordsmith. As lame as I think it is to “break up” with someone via text message, I’m beginning to realize that I’m in the minority on this subject. I hate texting, but I find myself texting back to people A LOT, so in turn I’m texting by default. Having made this disclaimer, I still say the whole texting thing is total and complete bullshit. What a pussy. What a load of crap. Plus, he called you a “gal.” My dad used to refer to women as “gals.” He described you as a “great person.” Gee, thanks. The Dalai Lama is a “great person.” No normal person ever aspires to be a great person; all we aspire to is a little love, or something close to it. He stated his desire to “be honest with you.” Good for him. Very noble. It might have been just a tad nobler if he hadn’t pushed your buttons and yanked your chain along the way, but hey, sacrifices must be made, Mister!
Then again, I’m probably not one to talk. The last time I broke up with a woman, I did it by disappearing.
