I've always dated football players. My love of the game runs deep and therefore my love of the men that play my favorite barbaric sport runs even deeper. I remember being in middle school, telling my mom I wanted to marry a football player. She sort of chuckled. The kind of chuckle you give to an immature mind that has yet to learn the ways of the world. But I carried on. Dated them all through high school and college. My ex-boyfriend played all through high school and college, had plans for the NFL. I saw my box season seats in lights, waiting for me. Then he got hurt. And as I learned the ways of most professional athletes, I realized that unless you were on the bandwagon during the wonder years, ala LeBron's girl, you didn't have a shot. Professional athletes are known for their philandering ways. Sooner or later it becomes part of the game, just like Q's dad says in Love and Basketball.
This blog isn't about the Tiger Woods' of the world though. It's about cheating in general or at least how it pertains to me. I would like to state for the record: I don't condone cheating. I think it's a selfish act done by someone who could care less about their partner's feelings. My dad was a cheater. Several mistresses later, our house was in tatters, so no, I don't get down with cheating. However, as I've grown older I've learned that some things you just can't begin to comprehend or identify with until they happen to you. You can say to your friends, "No, if he cheated on me, I'd be outta there," but the truth is, you don't know what you'd do. I'm sure my mother had no intention of allowing my dad his infidelities, but when you've built a home together, have three children, and mutual funds among other things, there she was. Eventually, she kicked him to the curb, but it took countless tries and lots of soul-searching and digging.
To my knowledge, I haven't been cheated on. I highly doubt it as I'm amazing in bed. I'm kidding-about the reason, not the fact. I have, unfortunately, stepped out on someone who shall remain anonymous, because he doesn't know or need to know. I've also been the other girl, the woman he ran to when he cheated on her. I'm not proud of either. I was being incredibly silly, not to mention selfish and immature. Yet, it happened nonetheless. During the time of both indiscretions, I was an interesting place in my life. One that had me rebelling and thinking I deserved to have what I wanted. So childish. So now, when I hear people say things like, "I'd so be outta there" or "If she ever stepped out on me, I'd go insane," I just kinda shake my head and give a good ole' Kanye shrug because I don't know what I'd do. I don't know what my partner would've done had he known. But I do know one thing: I have no intention of finding out because my plan is to never cheat on anyone every again. First of all the guilt is horrible. It tears you apart. You close your eyes and see the act and while he's laying next to you, you wonder if the vision will seep into that place where dreams are. You hope to anyone listening that you don't utter his name in your sleep. Secondly, it isn't worth it. I never cared about the guy I cheated with more than I cared about my guy, but there was definitely something missing somewhere or I wouldn't have done it in the first place. Even further, there must've been some sort of vacancy when I was the other chick because being someones second runner up isn't my style nor should it be anyone else's. Finally, I'm just not that girl. Maybe I once was. Maybe I dipped my toe in the cheating pool, but I dried off and stepped back where I belong. I pride myself in being open and honest and cheating just doesn't line up with who I am.
That bitch stole my line,