In speaking with a pal recently, we began discussing cheating. Doesn’t really matter the context if you ask me… cheating is cheating regardless if it’s cheating in a relationship , cheating the IRS, cheating while playing Monopoly; hell even cheating the folks at fast food chains when they give you too much money back- it’s all the same. Cheaters succinctly suck the big one.
Here’s why… (for point of reference, let’s use the relationship cheater). So you meet and hook up with someone. Eventually at some point you start to think, “HEY.. this could be IT… the ONE!!” Over time, insidious as cancer, things start to not add up (I don’t care how careful you are to hide it eventually the truth is coming out) and you give the benefit of the doubt (“Nooooo… not them.” What you really mean is: “I can’t believe this shit’s happening to me.” and you begin contemplating buying Ben & Jerry’s Chunky Monkey in gallons and Kleenex in vast quantities if you’re not already thinking about immediate revenge.) Meanwhile, while they’re out getting a nut, you’re by yourself trying to make yourself better (whatever that may mean to you) and wondering, “When did this happen?”, “What did I do?”, “Why am I so unlovable?” and “When did they stop loving me?”
Thing is cheating is bullshit. The cheater is the one with the “issues” but instead of confronting the problem head-on (excuse the pun) they foist all of this incredible crap on to someone else (regardless if the non-cheater person is an asshole or not) to deal with. I’ve heard the same BS from just about everyone: “I would never cheat on someone.” Next thing you know they have their legs in the air saying, “Spank me harder bebe” next to the empty milk crates in the back of the Piggly Wiggly. Thing is, do we actually BELIEVE the bullshit that we’re selling to each other? I firmly believe that it takes more balls to tell someone (to borrow a phrase), “I’m just not that into you” anymore and be done with it. WHAM! Hurts like hell, you move on- you may even actually respect the person for being straight up with you about it in the first place. I know I would. Instead here’s what “we” do: Lie. Yup, lie; and not just lie but lies with FLAIR! “No bebe… I don’t know them… S/He’s a stalker!” or some other stupid, vapid bullshit that when the potential for emotional injury comes up we actually believe, or try very hard to believe at any rate (denial can be a beautiful thing).
So what happens next? You find out that it’s true. Then comes the fun part- this is where a vast majority seek years of psychological therapy or contemplate and finalize plans for going completely batshit postal on someone. Instead of the cheater being the only one with real baggage in this fucked up relationship, they provide a “carry-on” bag for someone else. So here is this poor SOB totin’ the “What’s wrong with me?” and the “no trust” carry-on that they will literally carry for most of their collective lives while the cheater continues sharing with the “world.” Amazingly enough, the cheaters baggage never lightens. This can go on for YEARS depending on the non-cheater and how desparate they are to stay in a relationship for whatever freaking reason… meanwhile… the cheater is out frolicking…
I think more people try and define a line, “What is considered cheating?” Here’s my take and it’s worth what you’re paying for it (nuttin- opinions are cost-competitive. I’ll trade mine for yours): Thinking about cheating IS cheating… if you’re thinking about it, you’re pretty damned close to hatching a plan and following through with it. In which case, I believe not only that you’re an asshole by default but that your should have to wear an obligatory sign around your neck for all to be both warned and to bear witness that you’re wearing emotional spiderman/barbie underroo’s and can’t be trusted to act like a grown up big person. Thing is folks, the grass ain’t greener on the other side, the grass may just be mowed alittle different. 😉
Lastly, WTF is up with women literally fist-fighting over some hosebag that’s cheating on both of them? If given time, neither would actually want his sorry ass unless he was a millionaire with a 12″ gold phallus. Instead they’re fightin over some one-toothed, no job, ass-pickin’, backwater jacklipped asshole that lisps the handful of words that he does know (he can’t spell ’em but he can sound ’em out phonectically because he heard ’em on daytime TV).
Having said that: What’s your definitive, deal-breaking, cheating line in the sand?