Saturday, December 19, 2009

Everybody cheats


Everybody cheats. Brad Pitt strayed, Prince Charles too, Tiger Woods cheated a shitload, the President shoved a cigar up some lady who was not his wife, priests and nuns have fooled around on the big guy and business men everywhere have clichéd the shit out of their secretaries.

Now, I don’t believe in a smiting God nor do I rely on ‘fate.’ However one thing I believe in and can rely on is the fact that I will often and consistently manage to find a way to make myself look like an idiot. Over the years I’ve declared that; I would never do drugs, and then sampled many, I’ve also laid judgement on girls who had sex out of a relationship and then discovered the redeeming power of a meaningless fuck. Add to the list, smoking, breaking the law, tattoos, kissing my friend’s brother and going to the Alexandra Hills Hotel to name a few. So now I try to never say never. I avoid definitive declarations and I do my best not to pass judgement on deeds such as adultery.

Gibbon apes, wolves, termites, coyotes, barn owls, beavers, bald eagles, golden eagles, condors, swans, brolga cranes, French angelfish, sand hill cranes, pigeons, prions, red-tailed hawks, ospreys, prairie voles, and black vultures… a selection of animals who mate for life, Homo Sapiens aren’t one of them. Deep in the DNA of all dudes is the prerogative to spread the seed. One species that is actually 100 per cent monogamous is the anglerfish. The male picks up and follows the scent of the female. Once he finds her he bites her and hangs on. His skin fuses to hers, their bodies grow together and he lives off her blood supply like an alien implant from a sci-fi flick. At this point think of that guy/girl who wouldn’t leave you alone, combine them with the mooch that lived on your couch for three weeks and ate all your food and now imagine it FUSED TO YOUR SKIN. Maybe monogamy isn’t such an ideal after all. Although on the other hand, if a black vulture is caught philandering all the vultures in the area will turn on it and attack. Which kind of reminds me of the brothers of this girl I knew from New Zealand but enough David Attenborough talk for now.

What it really comes down to is this, impulse control. There’s a natural inclination to want to swear in church, to punch your asshole boss in the face, to scratch your butt openly and yes, when you see a smoking hot chick, to want to spread your seed, preferably all over her back. But for us all to get along we have to control these devilish urges. We do our best but then sometimes instinct prevails and the junkie reaches for the rock, the fatty for the cupcake and the committed for the condom.

Sometimes it’s because the weight of being loved is so impossibly crushing and it’s like your heart is in a cage and you need to break free. But sometimes it’s because you had too much of the good coke and you’re boyfriend is out of town. Impulses.

It happens. It happens all the time. And if it happens to your sister or your friend you’ll vow to cut open his scrotum and fill it with fire ants. But chances are you could be the culprit on a separate occasion. Is it possible to draw a line of acceptability? Is it naïve to expect total, unfailing fidelity? Circumstances are a killer. What if they cheated first? What if your wife’s vagina’s only pastime for the last 10 years was childbearing? What if nobody would ever find out?

Some say a kiss is cheating, some say only fucking. Some believe in open marriages but only if its sex and not a relationship. Some girls won’t let their boyfriends read porno mags and some say I don’t care where he gets his appetite as long as he eats at home. But when you lay down the law, even if you’re reasonable, human nature dictates that rules will be broken.

I have to admit; at this point the outlook is pretty grim. Yet I don’t mean to paint such an unrelentingly cynical picture. While I do try and understand it I do not condone infidelity. There’s a point when you’re watching Cheaters, after you’ve stopped laughing at the trashy skank who just rooted her boyfriend’s brother while he was asleep in the other room and you get a good look at this poor guy. The tears are streaming down this pitiable sap’s face and you just get an idea that he really loved this bleached blonde, leopard skin clad ho-bag and his heart has been totally eaten up and shat out as reality TV.

I think the moral that I’m very poorly trying to arrive at is that people will love each other, they’ll fuck up and they’ll hurt each other pretty bad and they’ll love each other again. Cheating is a shitty thing, you can’t plan for it and you can’t stop it from happening. But keep your standards high and your fire ants at the ready and let’s all try and play nice. I’m going to go see what David Attenborough has to say about forgiveness and Mother Nature; I hear she’s a bitch.


  1. compelling and rich as always andy

  2. All pretty true. I'm a fan of the "doesn't matter where you get your appetite, as long as you eat at home" approach. Look at others, even flirt. Fantasise if you will. Just remember the impulse control. If we really love the ones we're with, it shouldn't be that hard to say, "that would be awesome if I were single, but I'm not."