Why Do Women Cheat?

Why Do Women Cheat?

If you read TCOOO’s blog Why do men cheat?,

you know my book I Didn’t Sign Up For This! (available September 2007!!) was featured and the excerpt The Cheating Man’s Theory was put to the test and became a hot discussion forum. While many men admitted in different ways that the Cheating Man’s Theory was more reality than theory, the discussion raised the question –and rightfully so – Why do Women Cheat?

I have heard tons of stories from women as to why they cheated –none of them are good, but I understand. We are all very well aware of that some women cheat simply because their vaginas go through cock withdrawal and require pacifying with the first available phallus. While I’m not one to condone infidelity as I wholeheartedly believe that one should depart the relationship instead of playing games with someone else’s emotions. I too have cheated in the past. Here are my stories and the reasons why I cheated.

The First Time

Junior and I were going through a rough time about a year and half after our son was born. Although I was dedicated and was head over heels in love with him – he wanted out. So he did. Did I do anything wrong to make him want to leave? According to him now - no. At that time – he had a compulsive habit of nagging the shit out of me and accusing me of sleeping with every Tom, Dick Larry, Moe and Curly. One day – I responded to him, “Yeah I fucked him! It was the best fuck of his life!” He up and went to New York and cut himself completely off from his son and me. Now – I’m not going to bullshit you. That was part of his con to justify his fucking around with some other broad(s).

I had to hold down the fort on my own and raise this kid – oh yeah -finish school while working a shitty job at American Express where I had a supervisor that I often sat and meditated her demise which involved piano wire and gasoline. She didn’t think busting my balls was enough so she cut my hours back and gave me a weird schedule to not only cut my check short – it was too screwed up to get 2nd job. Nobody in their right mind with a small child would quit a job that paid 100% benefits. So I had to keep pretending that it didn’t bother me to be a modern day slave so that I could get promoted within the company. Bitch. So not only was baby daddy’s support money non-existent, my paycheck was getting smaller. One day, I was driving back from my cousin, Winsome’s house (to eat her food and charm some free babysitting out of her) and I spotted an old very good friend of Junior’s who happened to be a legend in the reggae community just as he was leaving another friend’s house. I hadn’t seen him since I was pregnant with Rick, so we began to chat about things and life and I subsequently ended up confiding just how sour things had gotten. When I realized what I had done – I made an excuse to leave and sped out of there like a thief. The next morning, The Man showed up bright and early at my door. He had several bags of groceries. I was shocked and grateful. While he was standing in the foyer of my one bedroom apartment and my son sat on the kitchen floor eating an popsicle – he pulled me aside and handed me enough cash to pay my rent and some left extra for myself. I immediately handed it back to him because I just knew he was going to expect me to put out for it. I didn’t have to do things like that. I had a father with a healthy bank account and some uncles who would strong arm my landlord if need be. He laughed at me and said to me he didn’t want anything from me. He knows firsthand what a piece of shit Junior was and expressed that I deserved a whole lot better. He admitted that he always admired me and liked that I had a brain. Who the hell could resist that? Then he said he had to go – as he was on his way home from being out all night, but just felt the need to tell me that and help out a little. I thanked him and as soon as the door closed, I called my cousin to tell her what had happened. She called me an idiot for not taking him on as he is a nice guy.

We ended up getting involved in a stronger friendship with an intense sexual relationship up until Rick was almost two – during which he continued to pay my rent and bills never once declaring any love for me. He was good to me the entire time. Rick even ended up in the hospital after suffering a seizure and it was The Man who took him there. How is that cheating? About three months into it – Junior and I started talking again with the intention of reconciling. I played them both because I didn’t trust either one of them. Of course, I ended up following my heart and never discussed with him just how I spent the time away from him. I actually got pregnant shortly after our reunion, but miscarried in the second month. Was I a whore?

The Second Time

I was married to my now ex-husband and we were on the verge of recalling the Date of Doom – our 2nd wedding anniversary. After I had Jon Jon, I was portlier from a weight gain of about forty pounds. Not from overeating in gluttony – but because of a collapsed lung I suffered during the pregnancy and was on some heavy steroids up until a year after he was born (why is it that when people suddenly gain weight, we always feel the need to explain it?!). I actually met my ex in GNC while I was looking for diet pills to help me drop the weight that had me walking with a continuous wheeze.

As soon as the honeymoon was over the Prince turned into a lazy ass croaking fucking frog. He just let it all hang out – the real boozing, partying, philandering him. Not to mention a control freak – he manipulated me with my friends and family. Every fight we had, was witnessed by a close friend or relative to ensure a humiliating experience and of course, all the females took his side. Then he felt the need to remind me that I was fat – as if dragging up the parachute-like panties every day wasn’t reminder enough. I argued with him until I was hoarse about his bullshit and then he would explain that my un-comeliness was the reason for his malicious behavior. Every day – the fat jokes increased and my self-esteem simply nose-dived and I was trapped. I wanted to burn him alive in the house that he insisted he stay in. He hated me, but wouldn’t fucking leave! I eventually limited my time with him by avoiding him every waking chance I got. When a position in his job opened up for an evening shift – I encouraged him to take it. That would mean that I worked during the day and he worked nights. I was probably the only person on the planet that dreaded weekends because that would mean I would see my husband. I only went into his bedroom four times a month for personal maintenance. Fifteen minutes for each occurrence. Nothing less, nothing more. We all have needs right? He had to be of at least one good use, didn’t he?

One day, after another one of our lovely spats – I discovered something was wrong with the CD player in my car. I had to take it to the kind folks at Volvo, but that would require an appointment. I went over to my uncle’s house instead – he can fix anything. He put me on the phone to his guy. The guy happened to be an ex of mine. Not just any ex – the first guy I had ever been with. He told me to call him in the morning and we will arrange to meet up so he could fix the stupid CD player –which, by the way, I was acting as it was as an important necessity as blood. Where did we meet up? At a hotel room ten minutes away from my job. Would you believe that was the only place for him to check out my car? No, I didn’t think so. He opened the door to the room and it was like time had suddenly jumped back ten years and stood still. I was seventeen again. He was still cute – only his hair was shorter. I felt an ache in my face as I looked at him. I was smiling . . . wide. I only smiled with my kids, but most of the time forced. I didn’t want to tell him about the troubled marriage, but he wasn’t shocked about the two kids and the baby daddy. He told me things were good with him and the mother of his children and he was happy . . . just that it’s not me. When we were together – we used to have fun. We once stole my uncle’s prized Camaro (I have TONS of jokes on that Camaro) on a dare as it was a superstition to steal my uncle’s car and not crash it on the way home. We did it and returned safe. I, of course, closed the door hard while cheering and shattered the passenger side glass window. We laid there on the bed listening to music and talking and eating fries and burgers with Sprite. He suddenly pulled me into a hug provoking all these old feelings to resurrect- and I was like, “hold a sec –this is not supposed to be going like this.” I was still very conscious of my weight and knew I was too fat for his taste. I asked him what was the deal – was he was desperate. He responded,

“Just because you gained weight doesn’t mean that you’re gone through. I mean – look, you’re still a pretty girl. Your hair and nails are neat and done, you have nice clean clothes on and you’re driving a RED VOLVO – how hot is that?! You still got it going on Gi! I almost fell off the bed and cried. Somebody had said something nice and kind to me and not because I fed and clothed him! Maybe all he wanted was to get laid – but hey, he wanted to get his rocks off with me. He moved in closer and kissed me and the tough-as-nails-holds-no-prisoners chick that was crouched next to him was softened like a newborn kitten. “ . . . and your breath doesn’t stink either.” “Shut up asshole.” [Insert Aretha Franklin’s “Natural Woman”] We officially segued into a heated make-out session. I knew what I was doing was dead wrong but was trying to get more into the motions of what was happening so that the guilt wouldn’t commandeer my body. However, my body was in a world of its own. It refused to resist the responses to the affection it was finally receiving after years of strongly craving it. The warm considerate hands that were caressing every inch of desire it created; the lips that were teasing and delightfully coordinating with its counterparts as made contact. With his body blanketing mine and my blouse removed with my zipper opened –as he had left it- he got up to retrieve a condom. My brain took advantage of the opportunity from the five seconds it was given having been clouded by his passion to get logical. This was wrong. I wanted a relationship – he wanted to fuck. A good fuck worthy of awards, but that’s all it would have been for him. He still had to go home to his woman and he wasn’t going to leave her for me. If I had stayed with him when I was seventeen –I would have been the baby mother that he cheated on regularly. I had to get out of there, but there was weight throbbing in my big drawers that was screaming for action and I almost couldn’t walk away. However, I had to. So I did. How is this cheating? I did not go through with the final encounter, but I did get real personal. It would hurt me if my man were to get that far with someone else.

The Third and Final Time

After my husband and I split, I started going out with a new guy – I mentioned him in my previous blog – Interracial Dating. This happened in the very beginning our relationship. I was in like with him and he was very good to me. He showed me that I deserved to be treated with respect and didn’t have to go about demanding it as harsh as I did. He completely understood – why I was so abrasive towards men – as his mother was the same way after his dad died. He had a major impact in the role to my overall change. So why did I cheat on him early on in the relationship? Because I was selfish. I didn’t trust men and that poor guy ended up being a victim of my insanity. I couldn’t enjoy the sex. It was boring. He was very affectionate but all that only makes an “O”-less incident more frustrating especially since I was shit-faced drunk. He couldn’t find my G-Spot with a GPS giving him turn-by-turn instructions! I hated it. I knew what the problem was and tried to teach him how to please me, but being older and stubborn – he didn’t appreciate my tutorials. Asshole. Guys – did you know that when you jerk off too much, you adopt a method of thrusting with your legs in lieu of your waist. Instead of applying the necessary pressure on the g-spot to induce a tailspin, you just run a breeze on it. So I’d saddle him up; which to him fine but too often and it was emasculating. I was getting annoyed as I am someone who refuses to indulge in tickling my pink parts with imitations when the real fucking thing was RIGHT THERE!

Then my Baby Daddy came to town. I caved. I told Mr. Lover Man about it in a heart to heart talk. I hurt him. I felt guilty, but I truly believe there was a physical issue involved that kept me twisting in my seat and my back hurting. That one two minute shot – ended weeks of tension. But we moved on and I introduced him to BDSM so that he wouldn't have a problem learning new tricks then. Asshole. I never cheated after that.

These were my reasons and the only times I ever cheated, what are yours - or why were you cheated on?