“I’m happily married.”
How many times have I read that sentence in adultery land?
Too many times to count. And I’ve always rolled my eyes. Oh yeah…you’re happily married, but you like to stick your dick in someone else on the side. Nice.
Mr. OXY-MORON.
He was too dense to realize it, which was classic. I wasn’t so “happily married,” but I just couldn’t take this level of absurdity. Dude, cheating is the opposite of “happily married.”
You don’t write vows with “I’m going to be so happily married that I will STILL look for strange new sex whenever I can get it. You okay with that?”
Er, I don’t think she’ll agree up there on the fucking altar.
No, you vow to be faithful.
Then, you break your vows by having affairs.
Don’t sugarcoat the turd, is all I’m saying. OWN IT. It’s not “all happy,” or you wouldn’t be looking. There’s a void somewhere. A truly fulfilled partnership doesn’t require extramarital fornication. You’d be giving each other what you need — emotionally, physically, and mentally.
“Happily married” equals “CAKE EATER.” You get what you need at home and what you need on the side. It’s having both worlds at your fingertips. All the dessert tray. You can never pick just one.
“You order the cheesecake, and I’ll get the tiramisu. And then we’ll share. Isn’t that perfect?”
It is perfect for a cake eater. No compromises.
“….If you need an affair to feel your best, then something is fundamentally not working within your marriage…” one Redditor wrote. “Yes, this includes cake eaters, who are basically hiding their poly side from their monogamous spouse. Right there, you have blatant incompatibility, which will erode the ‘happiness’ both parties feel with time.”
I know, I wouldn’t have started cheating if I was truly happy. I was starved of affection, sex, and warmth in my union.
I was looking for a reason.
As a baby adulteress, I learned quickly to avoid cake eaters like the plague. They would never fulfill me. Any talk of a “happy marriage” and I was out of there. I needed an affair partner who was JUST as miserable as me.
It was evident in the “get-to-know-you” chats.
“You happy at home?” I’d ask a potential lover.
“Yeah, she’s my best friend.”
BARF.
I needed less “happily ever after” in adultery. It was naïve and ridiculous. Admit to being a “cake eater” always on the prowl. Or realize that you are polyamorous. Or a dirt bag. Whatever.
I don’t care what label you put on it.
Just don’t pretend to be cheating out of the “goodness” of your marriage. The “I’m so happy” bullshit on repeat for the next willing victim/affair partner.
Find another “I’m so happily married” cake eater to have an affair with. AND realize you are lying to yourself.
…
If you liked this one, read the first article I ever wrote about coming face to face with my first cake eater in adultery land. He made me so damn mad that I wrote about him. He doesn’t deserve to be immortalized but he is.
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This post was previously published on medium.com.
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