I was at a dinner party when a friend confessed she had cheated on her husband. Not with the attractive neighbor. Not with the successful boss. But with a completely ordinary man she met at a supermarket.
“He wasn’t even good-looking,” she said, swirling her wine. “He didn’t have money. He didn’t say anything special to me.”
“Then why?” I asked.
“Because he looked at me like I existed.”
And there it was. The truth no one wants to admit.
Women don’t cheat for someone better. They cheat because they’re bored. And boredom, my friends, is more dangerous than passion.
The Lie We Sell (And Buy)
When a man cheats, we say: “He found someone younger, prettier, more this or that.” There’s a logic. An upgrade theory everyone understands.
