In dealing with the life experiences of friends, lovers, ex-lovers, and my sometimes charmingly bitter self, I’ve found that nothing puts grey hairs on the head (and a grudge in the heart) quite like infidelity. Even the suspicion of infidelity can take your relationship from we-just-made-love-on-the-virgin-white-Nassau-sand to you-can-keep-your-stinking-engagement-ring.
There are a myriad of reasons why cheating happens, and it’s rarely “because I hate you so much and just want you to have a hopelessly miserable life” (unless you’re vindictively trying to get back at your ex…for cheating on you). Most of the time, the psychology behind cheating is much more complex than that. Often, the reason has little or nothing to do with the person afflicted. Yet this particular wrongdoing feels about as personal as personal gets.
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OMG. Where do I even begin? Thank god my relationship is way more honest, thank god we never had a wedding, thank god my husband inspires me to follow my heart…thank god I still have a life.
Thank god I am not this girl, even though I have had moments of being this girl, and I completely blame society, family, and media for this, because we are never taught to just enjoy relationships for what they are, which could be a hot two-month affair, or a baby-daddy arrangement, or twenty years of friendship. We’re only taught how to evaluate whether they’re ripe for marriage or not, and if not, to move on, because god help us if we get stuck in a relationship without the potential of reaching that one goal we should all be aiming for, because it’s the only achievement that is ever going to make us really…happy.
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So, you bit the bullet. You called it quits on your relationship, before the holidays. Good on you. You are the 73 percent.
And now that the box of liqueur chocolates has been scarfed, and your mother’s “not ALL spinsters are unhappy” wisdom has been prescribed, and your married friends’ Christmas cards have smoldered in your fireplace, it’s time to muster up some self-respect and think about dating again.
Unfortunately, you know it’s not as easy as slipping into a tight black number and shouting: Come and get me, boys! It’s been awhile—perhaps a few years—and your game isn’t quite as tight as the Versace in the back of your closet.
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