Think Before You Cheat

cheating2I’ve been on both ends of this, and cheatee is the shittier and of that stick. Finding the one you love in the arms of another will cause you irreparable damage. No amount of therapy or prescription drugs will cure it. It’s a thunderous kick to the balls of the ego. So, I beg you, if there’s any emotional connection left with your lover, don’t do it.

Yes, I know it’s exciting to have that fling. I realize years of the same makes one yearn for the strange. But, you yearn for other things, and you manage to resist them, don’t you? Is there alcohol involved? Well, that could complicate things. You’re away on a business trip? Yikes. Be strong!

Here are things you need to realize about the sex you’re about to have:

  • No matter how enjoyable, it absolutely, positively will not live up to the mental hype you’ve built up.
  • Five seconds after orgasm, you’re going to get slammed in the temple with the ball peen regret hammer.
  • The person you’re about to cheat on (aka, the victim or your greed) may have committed misdeeds, but this punishment does not fit the crime.
  • Even if you think the victim doesn’t love you as much, the victim will be hurt and love you much less after this is done.
  • Your accomplice in the mental crime doesn’t have the same feelings and post-coital intentions as you. All sorts of promises were made leading up to insertion. Those will be rescinded once the goal is achieved, quite possibly leaving you without your beloved and without your new lover.

I’ve had girlfriends give me the warning: “Just break up with me before you do anything stupid like having an affair.” Well, that’s probably not going to happen. The reason has nothing to do with my feelings about her. It’s a bet-hedging strategy. If I cheat, and it sucks, I can resume my relationship as long as it is kept secret. Yes, that’s horribly selfish. I’m simply explaining why people rarely break it off before cheating.

Fortunately, I’ve never walked in on my lover being pounded by the other guy. Boy, that would suck. Then again, it would bring a sense of closure, I guess. Part of the torture is imagining what’s going on between the cheating peeps. If I see it, maybe it’s a quick pull of the bandage, instead of the slow tear. If you’ve witnessed fucked-upery of the such, I offer my condolences. I’m willing to lend open ears and support as you trash the criminal.

If you’re still unable to fight the urge, just step away for a few minutes. Think about what is missing in your current relationship that is causing this temptation. If it’s nothing, you’re being a greedy fuck, so go ahead and learn the hard way. Karma is a bitch, my friend. If you can pinpoint the problem, then you owe it to your loved one to try to fix it before inflicting permanent damage.

Cheating’s Fine

cheatersWe’ve all had the miserable experience of learning about a lover’s cheating ways. The important thing to note here is the act of cheating isn’t what hurts; it’s the finding out, especially when your peers knew before you. Also, the depth of the pain is relative to the depth of the love you have for the cheater. If you don’t care, you don’t care.

There are different levels of cheating:

  • Masturbating with another person’s body.
  • Getting drunk and hooking up–a one-time oopsie.
  • Crossing the line with a platonic (no longer) friend at a moment of weakness or need.
  • Getting back together with an ex, because of the familiarity.
  • Revenge cheating.
  • Falling in love with another.

As the cheatee, there are different levels as well:

  • Oh, you didn’t know he or she was married?
  • You dislike the spouse.
  • Just too fine to pass up.
  • It’s preferable to have sex with someone who won’t nag you.
  • Fame fucking. “How could I say no to that?”
  • The promise of divorce, and a whole new life together, forever. (Bwah, ha-ha-ha!)

Sorry, I don’t have time for cheaters, not just because of the bad karma thing; because it’s too god damn stressful. If I’m going to have casual sex with someone, I don’t want to know much more than her name and how she likes her clit rubbed. I don’t want to see a ring. I don’t want to see pictures of her offspring or pets. I’m not in the sorry-your-husband-neglects-you-here’s-my-penis business. Mind you, I’m not judging. You go get whatever stank you need on your bad self. My stank stays stored inside me.

What a kid I got. I told him about the birds and the bees and he told me about the butcher and my wife.

cheating(quote by Rodney Dangerfield)

With technology so advanced, we need a new set of standards around what is considered cheating. It used to be pretty basic: penetrate (male) or be penetrated (female), and you’re cheating. Now we have gray areas–or perhaps light pink–because we have goodies like cell phones and Facebook. Well, don’t stress, my sweet. You and your better or worse half will never agree on this, so allow me to be the judge.


  1. Woman catches man masturbating. My ruling here depends on what he is masturbating to. If it’s porn, it’s not cheating. If it’s gay male porn, it’s still not cheating, but you might want to invest in a strap on to liven up your bedroom. If it’s any show on the Cartoon Channel, run. If it’s to porn on the computer, it’s not cheating, unless the porn features him and one of your bridesmaids. If he is having Skype sex with someone else, that’s a misdemeanor. If he’s spanking away while watching the neighbor through binoculars, it’s not technically cheating, but where there’s smoke, there’s your neighbor getting skewered by your husband.
  2. Man catches woman with vibrator. Not cheating … period. I don’t care what color, size, or shape the vibrator is; all is well. I don’t even care in which orifice it resides. In fact, even if another woman is holding the vibrator, it’s not cheating. However…
  3. Man catches woman with remote controlled vibrator, some other man is holding the remote. Unless he’s a physician, it’s cheating. I’ll consider it a minor offense if he’s a DJ or in a different room, with the door shut.
  4. Woman catches man pounding away at a love doll. My, my, my. Well, who is the doll? If it’s modeled after wifey, no harm, no foul. If it’s a porn star, he gets a pass as well because, face it, he ain’t getting any porn star quality fuckin’ anytime soon. If the love doll is actually a cabbage patch kid or a bear, make an appointment with your therapist.
  5. Man catches woman with nude photo of ex-boyfriend’s immense meat missile. Depends on what she’s doing with said photo. If she’s paddling the pink canoe to it, that’s a flagrant foul. If she’s showing her friends, it’s a minor infraction, unless she laments about parts of her love cave currently being left unexplored due to your inadequate equipment.
  6. Woman catches man getting a happy ending from his masseuse/masseur. That’s cheating, unless the woman gives him an advance pass because she’s tired of his nagging. Still, if the professional is using anything except latex gloves and lube (such as mouth, feet, or anus), it is cheating.
  7. Man catches woman with vegetables. No, I am not referring to a side plate of broccoli. You know what I mean, you naughty little farmer girl. If the woman is caught green-handed with any of the following being inserted into her most delicious of areas, it is not cheating, unless during Lent: Italian squash, zucchini, cucumber, yam, ginger root, or (heavens) eggplant.
  8. Woman catches man poking another woman with something inanimate. If he’s poking her in the vag or hiney, it could be cheating. This, again, depends on what he’s poking her with. If it’s a dildo, it’s cheating. If it’s a stick, more than three feet in length, he gets a pass. If it’s a licorice rope, all is well unless he eats the rope. In related cases, some more liberal judges have permitted toe fucking. I says that’s gross, and will deem it cheating if for no other reason than to avoid getting toe fungus on my tongue. How would one explain that? My point exactly.

Please feel free to relay your scenarios, as my mind, while well-twisted, isn’t capable of dreaming up every possible scenario. Court adjourned!

Doctor O: Alexis – Session Seven

Although I rarely meet the husband, I usually have a good idea of the type of person he is, and how he’s likely to react to his wife on her way out. Also, it surprises me how often both spouses are oblivious to certain signs that friends, family members, and I see clearly. If one spouse is unhappy and tempted, it’s most likely the other is as well.

“Doctor, I’m sorry about this but I really needed to see you.”

“It’s OK, Alexis. What’s going on?”

“Like we planned, I took Mike aside and we had our talk. Guess what his reaction was?”

“I have no idea.”

“He agreed, packed his bags, and moved out.”

“He didn’t resist?”

“Not at all. You know why?”

“Because he’s seeing someone.”

“How the fuck would you know that?”

“Is he?”


“Interesting. How long has it been going on?”

“Six months. Here’s the best part: you’ll never guess this.”

“I probably could.”


“He’s in love with her.”

“Have you been fucking meeting with him? I don’t believe this shit.”

“Alexis, no.”

“You’ve been scheming with him behind my back.”

“I promise you, I’ve never spoken a single word to him.”

“Then, how could you possibly know? Are you bugging my house?”

“What? Don’t be silly. Alexis, you’re not the first neglected wife I’ve met. What did he tell you about the woman?”

“It’s someone he works with. She’s married, naturally. What an asshole he is. I’m going to nail him to the wall.”

“Wait a minute, Alexis. You’ve had a few flings yourself.”

“Right, but I’m not in fucking love with them. It was just sex.”

“So, that makes it OK?”

“No, but at least it’s temporary. You know? It’s like getting a massage. Ugh. I hear myself say these words and I sound stupid. How do you fall in love with another person when you’re married? How did he find the time to have something like that develop?”

“You said he works with her. He probably spends more time with her than you.”

“Plus, she’s fucking married. I wonder if her husband knows. Oh, and naturally she’s younger.”

“Why does her age matter?”

“Oh, please. You know you men. You hit a certain crisis age and then you go after sports cars and young women to cling to youth while your hairline recedes.”

“So, you think all men are alike. You think I’m like Mike.”

“You probably are. What do I care? Heck, go for it. Maybe I’ll chase a few young men myself.”

“Let’s get back to Mike. Did you tell him about your affairs?”

“No. I almost did. That prick. He doesn’t deserve to think I sat home taking care of his children, waiting for him while he took advantage of a coworker. Six months! He got away with it for six months! Worse yet, he was sleeping with me while he was sleeping with her.”

“He told you that?”

“I asked. I told him he had to come totally clean or I was going to wipe out our accounts and make sure he never saw his children again.”

“I bet now you wish you hadn’t gotten some of his answers.”

“He told me everything. He said the most attractive thing about her is the fact that she’s totally into him.”

“But, she’s married.”

“Exactly. She has children, too.”

“Has he met them?”

“I have no idea. What a scumbag.”

“Alexis, he has done some awful things, but you need to find a way to not take them so personally.”

“What? They absolutely are personal. He cheated on me for months. He doesn’t love me–his wife. He loves her.”

“Like we discussed, your relationship faded for both of you. The things you both did, you did for selfish reasons, not as an attempt to hurt your partner. I’m sure he didn’t intend to hurt you.”

“I’m not so sure. He was pretty cold about the whole situation. He had no problem leaving.”

“Where did he go?”

“I have no idea. He texted me saying he’ll stop by tomorrow and get more of his things. I told him we need to figure out how to explain this to the children. I mean, I can’t just tell them ‘Daddy is going through a mid-wife crisis and decided he’d rather spend time with his secretary than his children.”

“I’m so sorry, Alexis. I know this is painful.”

“Really? Is your wife in love with another man?”

“No. I hope not.”

“Ah, but you don’t know, do you?”

“This isn’t about me. My relationship isn’t the same place yours is. Now, if you allow anger to cloud reason, you’re going to make this a long, painful battle. Is that what you want?”

“Of course not. But, he should fucking pay. He didn’t even apologize to me. Ugh. I should find out who she is and let her husband know what a whore he’s married to.”

“Stop talking craziness. You two need to somehow put it behind you, find a fair way to split obligations, and move on.”

“Yes, I know. Pay my kids or pay the lawyers.”


“That fucker.”

“Stop running it through your head, trying to justify what you did because what he did was more serious. This is what happens when relationships end and people cling. Desires and emotions cause infidelity and dysfunction. You’re not going to change what happened or repair what’s broken. Give him his space, and let’s get together next week and create a plan to resolve this. The sooner this is behind you, the sooner you’ll meet up with that wonderful man who is waiting for you.”

“Really? What’s his name?”

“How should I know? Something European. Bertrand, perhaps.”

“You’re funny. I can’t believe you made me laugh. I still want to chop off Mike’s balls.”

“OK, don’t do that. Find something fun to do tonight to get your mind off this, and rescue your weekend. That’s an order.”

“Yes, sir.”

Diagnosis: As long as she can remain quiet about her indiscretions, she’ll have an advantage.

Treatment: She should use her leverage to end things quickly, yet fairly. Advise her to continue improving her appearance and attitude to attract the next man.

How we heal.

Nobody’s completely pain-free. Something pinches you somewhere. You may have grown used to the discomfort, but it’s there. Why not get rid of it?

No matter where the injury is, we only heal from the inside out. All medicine, therapists, and braces do is persuade your body to heal itself. The process begins with convincing you–the you that resides in your mind. If you’re unsure that what you’re doing or taking is going to make you feel better, it will probably fail.

So, let’s say you’ve had a shitty day at work. You got fired. You were replaced by a little snit who will do your job for less. You were escorted away, like a criminal. You’re embarrassed, knowing your coworkers are gossiping like teenage girls at a slumber party. How do you heal?

Well, for one, if there are no remaining financial obligations due to you, don’t hesitate to burn a few bridges. Face it, those bridges are paper thin anyway. Your ex-bosses and former teammates are concerned about one thing: how likely it is that they’re next in line at the slaughterhouse. To speed your healing, make sure you let each of these cowardly swines know how you really feel. If you must do so electronically, add a disclaimer to cover your ass. Here’s an example:

Dear Former Coworkers,

First, I want you to know that I am quite drunk as I write this, which is part of my healing process from being distraught about the thick layer of shit laid upon me. Hence, what I am about to say isn’t true. I’m just venting.


I wish you unbearable pain and regret for how you’ve treated me. I hope you get a paper cut on your pee hole, and an unsightly per-cancerous mole between your left eye and nose, which, I also hope, grows hair. If you are struck by a large truck on the way home tonight, I will giggle uncontrollably as I read your obituary. In fact, I’ll have your obituary laminated into a place mat, and I’ll eat breakfast off it daily.

Hugs and kisses (from your lips to my ass, preferably),

[insert your name, misspelled for legal reasons]

Now, exhale and say, “ahhh.”

Very good.

You’ve returned home midday to find your spouse being plowed like a field of soybeans by the neighbor’s son. Your wife, while embarrassed, doesn’t hesitate to tell you this is your fault and she wants a divorce. She insists you leave immediately (from the home you pay for) and go live with your uncle.

Don’t break things, or argue. Start the healing process by taking the checkbook, universal remote, and 18-year Macallan. Run over her lover’s skateboard or bike as you back out of the driveway, head to your bank, withdraw every cent, and close the account. It’s OK to hit on the teller; you’re single now. Drive to the closest dive bar, uncork the Macallan, tilt back four to six ounces, then enter the bar. Hand the bartender your keys, phone, and a twenty. Instruct her to continue bringing drinks, tater tots, and lonely women (size is of no concern) until there’s blood in your urine, then have the bartender hail a taxi to drag your carcass to a hotel.

You’ll wake up with a nasty hangover and an ugly woman (or man … whoopsie), but you’ll have already begun healing the nasty relationship wound your ex created.

How long after a breakup must you wait?

Is there a certain resting period required after a relationship ends? Are we like microwaved food, dough, or wet paint? I think not. If your man gives you the heave-ho, you’re free to go, Sugartoe. The minute you receive that icy message–“I think we should see other people”–consider yourself released and free to entertain other options.

Men have foolish pride, so it rarely works out that way. Clyde gives Bonnie back the keys to her vulva hoping she doesn’t hand them to Mr. Next too soon. That’s nonsense. If Clyde can’t commit, she can and should begin healing immediately, and if such healing requires the touch of another man (or woman), it’s her right to solicit such.

Ah, but friends complicate matters further. One day after Clyde tells his buddy, Jackson, that he’s cut bait, Jackson runs into Bonnie looking better than ever with a new suitor in tow. Jackson fancies himself a New Age Columbo, as he fires up the photo app and sends incriminating (?) photos to Clyde.

“Check it out, dude: Bonnie is already with another guy.”
“That fucking whore!”
“I know. Man, I’m sorry. She’s heartless.”
“I bet she was banging that guy all along. That’s why we were having so many issues.”
“No doubt. But, wait, you broke up with her, right?”
“Yes, I did, but you don’t see me out poking some new skank. I’m home alone healing.”
“You want me to go confront her?”
“No. I’m coming over.”
“Cool. I got your back, bro.”

It’s senseless. All logic has been purged from men who think this way. Who’s to say the new guy isn’t her friend, for example. I play the role of healer often. I get to play pool and provide emotional support and encouragement. I don’t get to play hide the pepperoni. The last thing I need is for her ape-ish ex to attack me for dressing the wounds he inflicted.

Men, when you relinquish your woman, you relinquish your right to control her or be jealous of what she does and how long she waits to do it.

The Man Can’t Control Himself

Stay away from men in high demand. That’s the best advice I could give you, whether you’re a starlet or a high school senior. It applies forever. This doesn’t imply that you have low ambition. It’s common sense. You’re not taking home a piece of art or a sports car. The higher the demand is for your man, the more competition you have and the harder it will be to keep him loyal.

But, don’t just take my word for it. Look around.

No threats will keep a mega-opportunity-having dude from messing up either. Financial threats, limited access to loved ones, eternal damnation, reputation destruction, and physical pain aren’t enough. Why? Because men have fallen behind women on the evolution track.

Women usually think shit through logically and know not to jeopardize long-term satisfaction for short-term gratification. Conversely, as soon as two words make it from his ear to his cortex (“blow” and “job,” if you must ask), the future fades and the man reaches for the cookie jar. Bad boy!

I said this before to Sandra and I’ll say it again to Demi: You need to find a low profile dude who wouldn’t risk losing something so unobtainable for momentary bliss.

Think about it. When I walked into the bar tonight, two people were happy to see me, and neither one would ever consider sleeping with me–yes, the bartenders. The rest of the patrons may have noticed me and, heck, a woman looking to breed may have even raised an eyebrow at my fashionable jeans. Yet, no vaginas were tossed my way.

Now, if Ashton walked into the same establishment, practically every available coochie-toter in the place would suddenly be an option and, thus, a temptation. It takes too much to override that sensation. The male ego rises above common sense and creates an insensitive prick. The dude knows that if he were to plop two of these women into a hot tub, very little good could come of it. He knowsthe likelihood that one or both of those vixens will sprint to the nearest tabloid and cash in at his expense. He knowsthe hour-long boffapaloosa could never be worth the torment he’ll receive from the media, his wife, and family. He knowsthe potential financial devastation and total career destruction could be cataclysmic.

It won’t matter.

Here’s the oddest thing to me: The parts on the strange woman are going to feel remarkably similar to those on the woman he has waiting for him at home. The excitement coming from the naughtiness might make it slightly better–because, naturally, some of the passion faded at home–but not substantially. Less than ten seconds after he ejaculates, he’ll begin to regret what he did and wonder how he could be so stupid. Then he’ll go into justification, panic, and damage control modes. He’ll swear that if he’s lucky enough to get away with it he’ll never do it again. (Really?)

Go slumming, my dear. Find yourself a man who’s way out of your league–to the downside. Make sure he knows you’re way of it his league–to the upside. Then you have a fighting chance of keeping your puppy in your yard. Otherwise, don’t be surprised when you hear his lies.

It Takes Two

Now hold on just one second there, Sister Theresa. These much-hated men aren’t out screwing tree stumps; there are women on the other end of those affairs. I’m not making excuses for the disloyal among us, just reminding all the pig pointers that it takes two to make a thing go wrong.

The women involved in these celebrity affairs have a tendency to gain sympathy and popularity. Why? How often are these women unaware that the men they bed are committed to others? Rarely. No doubt, the men are making some outrageous promises in order to quicken the parting of the thighs, but the “victims” usually play their roles voluntarily.

Here are the top reasons why a woman would sleep with a man who is in a committed relationship with another:

  1. I didn’t know. (Oh, bullshit.)
  2. His relationship is failing. (It is now.)
  3. He promised he’d leave her for me. (Of course he did.)
  4. I’ll lure him away. (No, you won’t.)
  5. I don’t like his woman and I want to hurt her. (What goes around …)
  6. I really don’t care what his status is. I’m doing this for me. (Well, at least you admit it.)
  7. I don’t want to know. (But you do, don’t you?)

Don’t women ever think the man’s cheating sets a precedent? If he cheated on her with you, don’t you think it’s likely he’ll cheat on you with the next one? I always think of that when I’m with a taken woman. (If you just gasped, quit it.) I consider that she’s probably a short-term lover since I can’t see myself changing someone’s ways. Short-term love is better than no love, isn’t it?

My sarcasm leads one to believe I’m disloyal and untrustworthy. Untrue. I can be loyal. I admire loyalty when it’s not forced. I don’t want anyone to stay with me for any reason other than she wants to be with me. I don’t want her to stay because of the cats, kids, or threats from lawyers or deities. If I annoy my woman to the point where she’s tempted to be pollinated by another, she should leave (preferably before the pollination).

I guess that’s the main rub here: men who cheat instead of leaving. They’re so greedy and hurtful.

I have numerous acquaintances who break up and get back together more often than I change my home’s air filters. Inevitably, something comes out along with the excuse, “But, it was while we were taking a break.” Then there’s that to deal with. The guilt whip will be deployed henceforth upon every bump encountered.

I don’t feel sorry for the wives or mistresses any more than I hate the men who cheat. I’m not in any position to judge them. I feel sorry for people who are trapped in dysfunctional relationships.