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.”

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.

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…

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Sounds like a relationship. Or does it?

It’s so hard to know. In the old days, the beginning of a relationship was easy. You were totally crazy about each other, you both knew it, you spent every possible minute together, and when you weren’t together, you talked on the phone for hours talking about the next time you would see each other. You felt giddy, like teenagers, and it was a feeling you desperately wanted to hang onto because you knew at some point that would end and you would settle into a relationship. But at least you knew.

Times have changed. Cell phones happened. Then the Internet happened. Then instant messaging happened. Then text messaging happened. Then instant messaging on your cell phones in between text messaging happened. Then suddenly through total and complete electronic availability, everyone became unavailable.

In relationships, text-messaging seems to the new phone call. I remember dating a guy with whom I never actually had a real phone conversation. Our entire communication was through emails and texts. While proving to be fun and exciting at first, it just ended up really making my fingers hurt. When I decided to stop seeing him, I let him know with an email (of course). His response: “I deserve a phone call. Message sent from my BlackBerry wireless handheld.”

Sometimes I really wish we weren’t so connected. It seems that with all this connection, you never actually get to connect. And then your mind starts to play tricks on you: “He just sent me a text today and didn’t call. Does that mean he doesn’t want to talk to me?” Or, “He’s sent me an email every day for the last two weeks and today I didn’t get one. Does that mean he doesn’t like me anymore?” I spend so much time trying to decipher the “cyber code” that I think half the time the relationship ends in my head before it actually ends. Which we’ve already established, is not a good thing.

So this time, I want it to be different. I really like this guy. I want him to stick around. I don’t quite know where we stand yet, but I guess I don’t have to. It’s still early. I’ll know when I know. But why don’t I get to know until he knows? That’s the part which drives me crazy, because it makes me, quite simply – a girl. And that’s the part where I usually act more like a guy.

Maybe he’ll text me and let me know.

Case in point: you and Rip Van Winkle. Ten dates? Cooking dinner for him? Valentine’s Day? Call me crazy, but that’s a relationship in my book. If I don’t want a relationship, I go for a two date maximum, a check after every meal and a Valentine’s Day spent in different zip codes. If you ask me, you guys are in a relationship, except for two things: It’s 2010, and he’s a guy.

When it comes to determining if a relationship exists or not, men and women approach things in very different ways. We come on strong – first of all, we want to get laid. We can’t possibly decide whether or not you’re girlfriend material without having sex with you. Even if the sex is lousy and we’re the reason why, we simply have to know. So once again, it’s all about getting into your pants and we can’t do that by taking our time or coming on soft. We put on the full court press – dinners, drinks, thank you text messages, cute emails and our deep voice on late night phone calls. Are we leading you on? Maybe, so what? We have to know and we can only find out by sprinting until we don’t want to sprint anymore.

You guys are the opposite. Where we reach out, you usually hold back. Where we like to hit the gas, you prefer riding in neutral. Where we’re ready for all night long, you usually draw the line at home for CSI. You ladies are smarter about it than we are. Maybe it’s because when you hurt, you hurt more than we do. Maybe it’s because you know what you’re doing before you do it, and we don’t know what we’re doing until after we’re done – if it all. Or maybe it’s because you start thinking about being in a relationship the minute you wake up every morning, and we don’t think about it until we’re walking down the aisle. Whatever the reason, don’t feel bad about being confused – we’re all confused. Women are just more willing to admit it.

But, I still think he’s just not that into you. If he was, you wouldn’t be confused – you’d know.