How I Became a Cheat.I think it all started in High School. I was kinda dorky to begin with and I didn't have any girlfriends for a long time.
Eventually I did manage to attract a girl and for a while it was great. But then slowly she started to get more and more psycho. She became depressed and extremely possessive. She would lose it with me all the time for no reason and generally made my life a living hell. I was only 17 - I had no idea what was going on, or why she was behaving like this. Eventually I wanted out. I tried to break up with her.
Well that sent her over the edge. She “attempted” suicide. She took a whole bunch of pills (probably laxatives for all I know) and made sure she called me to tell me about it. Looking back now, it was a total set-up, but it freaked me out. I didn’t want someone’s suicide hanging over my head for my whole life. So I took her back and tried to make the best of it.
But she was a total *****. After her “attempt” she worked out that she had me where she wanted me and she got worse and worse. I wasn’t allowed to go anywhere or see anyone. I wasn’t allowed to hang out with my friends. The fact is I hated her, but I was still afraid she’d off herself and I’d be laboured with the guilt. So I started sneaking around behind her back.
When I reached 18 I started going out with friends to nightclubs without her. We’d party it up, drink and have a good time. And, of course, there were girls. At first I resisted the temptation to cheat, because I believed all the crap people tell you about trust and loyalty and yadda yadda. But eventually, because my girlfriend treated me so badly, I stopped caring – and started cheating.
That was when Pandora’s Box was opened. I didn’t feel guilty because I felt justified by the way my girlfriend treated me. That insensitivity pretty much stuck after that. Now, when we went out I would make out with 2 or 3 girls a night. After a while it was a real habit.
Eventually, after years of abuse, I told my girlfriend to get lost. She totally wigged out, but I’d had enough. I told her she could kill herself if she wanted to, but I wouldn’t harbour the guilt. She didn’t actually do it.
I was elated. I wanted to scream from the mountain tops “I’m FREE! I’m FREE!!” My early 20’s went by in a blur of booze, drugs, parties and girls, girls, girls. For some reason they seemed to like me.
I had a number of short relationships, but by now, the habit of womanizing was firmly entrenched in my psyche. It became as addictive as cigarettes. I was hooked on the feeling of being intimate with someone for the first time.
When you first meet a woman you are really attracted to, and she likes you, it’s a rush of emotion and adrenaline. Your endorphins really kick in and you get lost in this haze of nice warm fuzziness. You’re literally walking on air for a while. Unfortunately, it wears off pretty soon and I found myself looking for the next girl and the next. Almost like a heroin addict. I basically carved like a tornado through dozens of girls, leaving a trail of destruction in my wake.
Then one day it happened. I got a girl pregnant. Now I may be a womanizer, but I’m not a bastard. I decided not to run. There was no way I could abandon this young woman and the baby to their fate. And if I was to have a child, I wanted to be there to watch it grow up. I got myself into the situation and I would have to deal with whatever came along.
So I stuck around. And my son was born. But I immediately went back to my old ways. Running around with other girls, having a string of affairs – this time there was a bit of guilt, but I justified it by telling myself that I hadn’t wanted this relationship anyway.
3 years later we got married. I didn’t want to, but by that stage she was telling me that I either married her, or it was over. I didn’t want to leave my son so I agreed.
We’ve been married now for 5 years and things are actually pretty good. It’s not like I’m desperately unhappy and yes , I do love my wife. We have a lovely house and a 3 year old daughter, and most of the trappings of wealth. And I haven’t had a fling for years.
The only thing is; I still fall in love with every pretty face I see. As they say, old habits die hard.
velosapien 31-35, M 8 Responses 3 Feb 1, 2008