I Was Cheated On, Part 1: A How-To Guide In Progress
Why, oh why, are we cursed to have both a devil and angel living inside us? It would be so much easier if there were Good People and Bad People and the two sets could pair off together. Sadly, not the case.
I was cheated on, and not just once. I am in my fifth long term relationship, and of those five, it is confirmed that at least four of them involved cheating. Four on their side, that is. Three on mine.
Mine were what I always considered “heavy flirtation,” i.e. not sexual acts. Not even kissing. (Well, there was one time.) As for the other side, that of my loving significant others, sexual acts were involved. That seems to be more the norm. I want to note that I am not proclaiming my past sins to be lesser than the others; that is part of what I am yet exploring. On my side my significant others would typically categorize my cheating as “emotional,” which they proclaimed to be worse. More dangerous. Perhaps it was.
So why do we cheat? A drunken, lustful mistake? A yearning for something the relationship isn’t currently providing? A devious mind that has found a way to bypass agreed-upon morals? A carnal human instinct to connect with as many other humans as possible? I’ve found, in my experience, that all of these can be valid reasons.
For this writing I must ask you, the reader, to open up your inner self. Do you know what I’m talking about? That part of you that you don’t share with others. Significant others, close friends, family, no-one. That very deep core of you that you often shy away from yourself. It’s difficult to face that *you* head-on. One is forced to face it when large mishaps occur; one of which just occurred to me.
I can’t know who you are or what you think. I can only know my own inner self. So that’s where we will have to start.
I am young-ish, early thirties. I crave a perfect, monogamous, True Love. Just as most do. I increasingly believe it doesn’t exist, at least not in a pure, shining-glass-like sense. I do think it can exist in a cracked, cobbled together, work-in-progress sort of way. I have to, otherwise what’s the point?
Over the past year I’ve been exceedingly excited about my current relationship. Late thirties, successful, been through the ringer, doesn’t have time for dishonesty, life is too short kind of person. Perfect for me. I can handle hard truths; after all I’ve gone through I basically get off on it. One giant downside: long distance.
Our agreement was simple. Monogamous as we grew the relationship, and if a need arose on either side (in the far distant future, of course), we would discuss it first and make a decision. Together. Trusting. So yes, it shouldn’t be a shocker that in this incident my significant other had a drunken fuck-up. I was furious. I thought there was self control on the other side. Enough hard truths had been said to instill a trust in someone who can barely fathom the concept of trust anymore (me). But, my other brain chimes in, one must consider the other side is only human.
(You will come to see that I live in my head so much I obsess over these things. I’m a details person. I get paid rather well at my 9–5 to obsess over details. I’m bringing those details here now, partially for catharsis and partially to connect with anyone else analyzing the same kind of situations.)
I was told, bluntly, the next morning. I appreciated that. That instilled further trust, in its own weird fucked-up way. Boy did I chain-smoke and drink that day away. Alternating feelings of hate and sadness and love and what-the-fuck-were-you-thinking coursed through my body. I was comforted by the fact that it arose out of a house party after the bars closed, by the fact that this was not a known person and it wasn’t even possible to get in touch with, or be gotten in touch with, in the future.
I wanted to know details. I cringed when I heard any. I begged for more. I felt if I knew every single second of the whole ordeal I could understand it, turn it around in my head, and then deal with it.
The fuckery of it all is that I want to grow old with this person, and fully expected for this to happen at some point, per our previous hard truth discussions. I guess that’s an easy thing to deal with at the time since you’re not yet having to actually deal with it. Does that make me naive? And if I believed it would happen sooner or later, is it not best to get it out of the way up front?
The angel inside me cursed the situation, sitting gloriously atop my high horse. The devil inside me imagined me in the other pair of shoes, and forced uneasy thoughts. “You know that would be fun.” “You know it wouldn’t mean anything.” “You know you wouldn’t be meaning to cause any hurt.”
All of which I believe about my other half. (I don’t believe in better halves or lesser halves. I think if that’s the case it’s time for one or the other to move on.)
So here I am, with my pure, shining-glass relationship sporting its first crack.
The facts are these: I believe it to have been an honest mistake (honest being the worst descriptor ever, am I right?); the honesty we had built remains intact; great love is still intact on each side; an old, familiar paranoia has re-awakened in me that I have certainly not missed and could lead to terrible stress and fighting in the future; I have to worry and wonder if another “accident” will take place; and finally I have to worry that the stress and hurt from this occasion will lead to reduced honesty in the future.
I fear perhaps my title was misleading. The How-To Guide (In Progress) is meant for me. And you, if you care to follow along. I’m in this thing to win it but lord oh lord are there so many pitfalls to leap over. And if it fails, as all others have, perhaps I shall become much better acquainted with my cats.
But I think — no, I believe (I think), that it is possible to create something wonderful even when you’re working with two human beings that are bound to be human over the course of a lifetime.