Everywhere I turn I hear some tragic story of a cheater getting caught. It's plastered across the tabloids, the stock market, even Martha Stewart is a convicted big cheater. The cheating extends beyond celebrity romance and into our beds. Some man storms in on his girlfriend befriending his fraternity brother below the belt; a woman goes home with a mysterious drunken stranger while her boyfriend bakes her brownies at his apartment. Has the concept of monogamy gone extinct with the dinosaurs, or are our 20s deemed a time where all monogamous bets are off?
The truth-seeker in me had always pushed the idea that if I had been cheated on in a relationship I wanted to know. That is, until I was cheated on by one of my freshman year fiasco boyfriends. This moth ball of disgust collected in my stomach, I just didn't comprehend how someone could have such disrespect for me to cheat.
I used to tell my boyfriends that if they ever really couldn't help themselves they should call me and leave a quick message on my voicemail, something that went: "Jessica, I'm sorry, I needed to make-out, I'll call and explain later, Bob."
My boyfriends always thought that sounded ridiculous, but in my defense then at least I knew they were being honest. Once the message was recorded then he was no longer my boyfriend, and he was free to make his heart out with whatever crossed his path.
But then, many years and relationships later, I became the cheater. The first kiss was the hardest; every atom in my body was screaming that I had a boyfriend, along with a chorus coming from my roommates, but then my mystery man pulled me in for the kill and all the outward banter evaporated. I too became a cheater.
My cheating spell was short-lived. It lasted two weeks, until I realized that this new man wasn't so wonderful, it was just that my old man wasn't. My cheating didn't happen because this other guy was so charming that I lost all sense of decency, it happened because I wasn't happy in the relationship I was in. After repeated drinks with my favorite graduated frat boy, I decided I needed to end the affair and the relationship - a two-for-one deal - and explore the possibility of being single.
But as I discussed and over-analyzed my promiscuous escapade, I discovered that the majority of both my male and female friends had not been so loyal either. In fact, my best friend from kindergarten, who I call the eternal prom queen because every man falls at her feet, had cheated on every boyfriend she had ever had, except her current boy toy. Is the tale true - once a cheater, always a cheater? Or can love override the cheating instinct? If I had cheated once, was I doomed to cheat again or be cheated on?
I vowed to make my one cheating episode my only cheating episode. With my new vow to never cheat again, I was back on moral high ground and safe from cheater's temptation.
But if I lived in fear of what goes around comes around, I was waiting for a relationship-slap-in-the-face.
I returned home for winter break to the comforts of boyfriends past and to no surprise I ended up in the arms and bed of one of my favorite exes, Tarzan, my wild, exotic mountain man from abroad.
While we were rekindling that old flame, his phone rang. He answered, a female voice, his face turned red and as I began to speak he motioned for me to stay silent. Had I been so excited at the idea of being back in his bed that I had missed the breadcrumbs of his other woman? I suddenly shrunk in his musky sheets. I felt small and dirty and out of place in this once comfortable space under his arm. Despite what he said, I felt like I was his mistress-in-waiting.
I had become his cheating story. He, like many, had crossed over the line of monogamy into cheater's territory and saw it was much easier to cheat again. The simplest way to cheat and fulfill that craving for a different sexual flavor is by cheating with an old flame. Once you've already been to their bed, it's easy to slip back into the sheets and the sexual comfort zone.
I realized I was his sexual side dish when I listened to his vague excuse, and it didn't sound so kosher.
Cheating happens more and more, possibly because the lines of monogamy have become even more blurred with relationships called "hooking up," "talking," "dating" or "seeing each other." Couples don't know where they stand, so they can't identify if or when their boy of choice is stepping outside the relationship boundaries.
The concept of open relationships and casual dating has put monogamy on the endangered concepts list. Today, almost every dating relationship has open ends, allowing one or both partners to sexually wander, but when feelings are involved, cheating may be more painful than just a quick kiss. I have kept my vow and have not wandered out of the boundaries of monogamy since my one slip and I am hoping to leave those scandalous stories of torrid affairs to the tabloids.
Jessica Bacharach is a senior in the School of Communication. Caught with your pants down runs every Thursday.
eaglepantsdown@yahoo.com
