Sex And The Married Man

Ok, so I've been pondering a lot about men, women, attraction, and why people (read: men) cheat. I think I know the why for women, and since right now I'm focusing my attentions on the rougher sex (ha), my survey continues.

Friend of mine pointed me to this site: http://www.youcheat.com/. You can check out for amusing psychobabble and message boards. You can even order a lie detector test for your honey, something for the seven-year anniversary...

Results of my personal survey (actual quotes):

"Men are insecure."
Ok, so if men feel that they are not adequately validated, they, um go to the corner bar and bump a babe (so to speak). Absolutely logical in that masculine sort of way. Also, if one still needs to feel attractive and viable, one can go to corner bar, get smashed, screw
stranger, go home, pass out, and have lots of explaining to do.

"They're not getting what they need from the relationship."
Read: sex.

"If it's really love, you don't need to look anywhere else."
This is applicable for the honeymoon phase of coupledom, obviously, but gonads force
us to notice other attractive people. I guess it's just a matter of will... and avoidance of egregious damaging flagrante indelicato.

"Fear."
Lastly, girls, you may know this one, fear of commitment, or potentially fear of incommitment (word?). One friend I knew would rather be caught cheating and then dumped than have to deal with being the bearer of bad tidings. Or if girlfriend entrenches in denial/acceptance, man gets to keep cake and stick his finger in a lot of pies.

This search was instigated by my half-witting participation in what would've been a married mambo. Not wanting to go about getting someone's sloppy seconds, I nipped it in the bud, but, as possible co-dallier is a friend, am very much like diabetic who is around chocolate all the time.

Of course asked the offender full stop. His reply referenced his "retardation" and tended to put him in the passive wrong, as girls tend to behave "like scheming....giant squid"(!), and ply him with gigantic glasses of vodka. I tried to rectify, countering that he actively puts himself in situations that impair his judgement.

Of course, we get into a heated debate at a bar in the wee hours whilst piss drunk and I leave before verbal volleyball ends with testicle hockey. Rinse lather repeat.

So, are we all fuckmonkeys biologically incapable of not slipping up, or is there such a thing as true love? Tune in for the next ep...

Today's gem: When dating a philanderer, watch for crabs.

Next week: Stalkers and perverts

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