Helping her Cheat

So I’m sitting here waiting for Hurricane Sandy to be born and to launch dozens of roof tiles and metal L beams through my living room window, and I’m reflecting on a pile of weird ass shit that’s been gunking up the ole life lately.  (WARNING! It’s a long one, there’s video breaks, I couldn’t be bothered to proofread after about halfway through.  I will later if we’re all still alive).

NUMBER ONE: Deja vu, for serious.

The setup: So last year (was it two years?) hurricane Irene was about to annihilate the city, right? Well, until it didn’t but who’s counting.  So the night before, I think it was a Friday, I decided to: fuck it, go out even if nobody else was.  Or maybe everyone I knew was… OOOHHhhhh right.  I went to this girl’s boyfriend’s dance party thing at the Bell House.  It was awkward because it looked like I was there to hit on her, because I didn’t know anyone else.  I was not.  Don’t get me wrong, her ass is fantastic, but nope.  So I’m there to have a good time.  Long story short, I ask a chick if she wants to come home with me, she does, we have crazy sex.  Next day I’m kinda feeling “Aw man.  She’s not your type, why’d you do that?” Who’m I kidding, I was like, “get her out of here now.  She’s terrible.”  But I squashed that voice, and after a couple more dates/sex’s and a phone call to tell her I wasn’t into dating her anymore, we became friends.  Eventually we fucked again, but it never went anywhere and such and so forth.  Let’s call her Opera, because she at one point was training to sing opera.  The following day, the hurricane was beginning to get real, and I was beginning to feel incredibly isolated and vulnerable out here in BK Siberia.  So I caved and accepted an invitation from a past fling to sleep over at her place.  We banged and I regretted that too.  Let’s call her Classy, because she has pretensions. To almost everything better than what you’re into.  Case in point: we watched a French film instead of the fucking hurricane news.

The Deja Vu Part:

So this Friday Opera came to town, we had sex.  Then I went to a party the next night and ran into Classy, and it looked like it was heading to a repeat hurricane sleepover request which I would not have been strong enough to turn down.  So I got the hell out of there.  But wow what a fucking coincidence right?  Fucked the same girl the night before the trains got shut down AND ran into the girl i fucked the following day (what a pig, I know).  OH! AAaaand both times I’ve had an OKCupid date lined up that I had to “reluctantly” cancel because of the crazy impending sword-of-weather-death.  This year I’m staying home alone, so since I broke the loop, this storm will probably be the end of the world as we know it.  For sure, the Mayan apocalypse has arrived and it’s my reluctance to have cheap sex out of guilt and a misguided sense of empathy that has doomed the world to oblivion.  Did I mention that also in attendance at the party were the tent-sex 22 year old, Reese the charming cock tease, the chick who called me gay right after we fucked, a chick I kissed years ago who seems to still hold that against me, AND a friend who wanted us to start dating and maybe still does a little.  Talk about fucking torture.

Which brings me to NUMBER TWO:

The end of that night brought me what was the simultaneous high and low point.  I’m going to back up a sec though.  Two weeks ago, a friend of mine told me her good friend (let’s call her Louise) was tossing around the idea of having a one night stand to clear out the cobwebs left by her loveless marriage and separation.  My friend told Louise (whom I’ve met) that I’d be the perfect choice for a roll in the hay with no strings.  I was both flattered and floored.  I may have a rep for being a slut, but seriously… come on!  Is what I’m getting from this that I should be saying “no” more often?  Also, I’m like really hot so what makes you think she’s good enough?! Bitch. But thanks.  But, bitch.

Anyway, moving on.  Friday I hung with a different friend from out of town before meeting Opera.  This one’s friendship is pretty important to me… but it took a long time for us to separate the sex from the equation.  It all started as online dating (Nerve) about 5 years ago… maybe more.  Eventually it was pretty clear to me that I wasn’t feeling the romantic connection so I started pulling away.  She got a little insistent that we could just fuck and be cool…  But it was so blatantly not true I didn’t fall for it.  Skim through the years and you see we’ve not had sex since, but we HAVE become better and better friends. At least that’s my perspective.  I begin to doubt it in light of Friday’s events.

To wit: at a bar full of her friends she casually dropped, sotto voce, that she planned on coming home with me and having sex.  I balked.  Don’t get me wrong, I had toyed with the idea of introducing the subject in the past in moments of weakness.  But in that moment I knew I didn’t want it to go there.  We were out with all her NY friends conversing, laughing having fun.  I wasn’t in get-laid mode and I’m not gonna roll over and eat you out just because you’re sad.  So stop insisting.  She insisted.  I pushed her off with some fluff about being in the wrong headspace to have someone over.  It was true but I felt like I was lying, and I resent having to be blunt about something so….delicate.  If someone doesn’t say “yes, let’s have sex!” when you say, “By the way, I want to fuck you tonight,” that someone has said “NO.”  Don’t back him or her into a fucking corner about it.  If it’s me, and you eventually convince me to jam it in, I guarantee it’s gonna be a half chub racing to the finish line.  Because selfish bitches don’t turn anyone on.

Which as you can probably guess is where I ended up the next day anyway with Opera, hanging around wanting to smooch and me going, “Hey, hadn’t you better meet your friend and get your costume all put together?”  And her following me around and trying to swoop me into a kissing sesh every time i walked past.  Over and over and over until finally I had to shut down and be a dick.  And then physically push her out the door so I could have an hour of me time FINALLY.  Phew.  And no, it didn’t go down like it sounds, I’m not a fucking animal.  But I refuse to manufacture romance ALL DAMN DAY.

Ok, now we come to the highlight/lowpoint of the “Halloween party that almost wasn’t” (side note, i got blocked from it on facebook and it was minor drama).  I’m going to be nice and leave out what her costume was, because I don’t want to be the one who gets her in trouble.  So let’s say this.  She was a sweet looking girl, there maybe on her own, who was not immediately known by me or my friends, although I think she knew a few people of my group.  This nice girl and I had made eye contact a couple of times and not said “Hello.”  Whatever.  At the very end of the party she comes up to me, I’m chatting with a lady friend (not THAT kind of lady friend), and she says, “Excuse me, I don’t mean to interrupt, but I have to tell you you have the most kind and gentle face.”

We’re both kind of like… um. Me? So she goes on to repeat and elaborate, and then apologize to the girl I’m talking to for being so forward with her man.  At which point I hasten to tell her that “No no no no no, we aren’t dating!”  Well in that case, she doesn’t mind telling me that she finds me very attractive and would love to get to know me better…. “if [she] didn’t have this stupid boyfriend”.  Cue the screeching tires and needle ripping vinyl sound effects.  “You have a boyfriend?” asks my friend.

“Well, technically yes, but we’re having issues and I’m not very happy right now.”  So.  I mean, where does one take that conversation to next?  But whatever, she’s drunk and horny/lonely and talkative so we roll with it and she goes on to ask me if I would date someone like her or kiss her tonight if she didn’t have a boyfriend (uh, yes.).  At this point I’m realizing she’s drunk enough to be talking about someone who’s standing right behind her and not realize it.  And I’m the douche who she’s kind of hanging on to and touching his arm and lavishing praise on etc.  In short, I’m the guy who gets sucker-punched by the angry boyfriend in the face in this kind of story.  I’m the reviled cheater-enabler in the making.  Thankfully someone starts flashing the lights and telling us to leave, so we wrap it up… she gives me her phone number and asks me to text her and I’m out of there.

Which brings me to the question:  Is it ever ok to be the home-wrecker?  I ask this because it seems to be a sub-theme in recent life events, but also because I’ve been there.  I have been asked by an unhappily married woman to fuck with no strings, and done it.  You might have seen us that time, she left the windows open in a ground floor apartment on a busy corner in Park Slope.  I walked around naked scaring passers-by with my full erection and slapping her fat ass.  Afterwards I very definitely felt as though God Himself was going to strike me down for aiding and abetting the breaking of His commandments.  In fact, come to think of it, this hurricane Sandy fits the divine retribution bill nicely.  My fault, y’all, sorry!

But really… do we have a responsibility, beyond our own personal needs and emotional safety, to say “no” in situations like that?  Where the immoral choice is being made by someone else but wouldn’t be possible without our participation?  My heart actually went out to this Halloween kind face girl… I imagine she’s caught in a stage of her relationship where I’ve found myself a few times:  So comfortable that she can’t end it, but so unhappy she has begun to flirt with the idea of cheating.  Because let’s face it, that hug she gave me was 2 steps away from a blowjob in the bathroom.  I’m not judging because I’ve done that hug.  I recognize it.  If she was strong and in full control of her emotions, she’d have gone straight home that night to hubby and ended it.  But that’s crazy tough and sometimes never happens without a catalytic event.  Getting caught “stepping out” on your significant other is for some people the only way to precipitate the end of an unsatisfying relationship.

Cheaters are very commonly held to be the lowest of the low in relationship fiction, and it seems that’s reflected in a lot of people’s stated opinions.  The cheater-enabler is a particularly weasely character.  But at least inasmuch as that cheating event results in the end of a go-nowhere relationship which a person couldn’t otherwise bring themselves to end, I can kind of get behind it.  I mean… it’s humiliating and crushing and wrong. Yes.  But isn’t staying with the wrong person for the wrong reasons even worse?  Sure.  Yeah.  An open minded rational person can agree that that’s true (if that person hasn’t been cheated on herself).  But in reality, it’s never going to be ok.  It hurts a shitload.  I think though that people instinctively know why it happens and that a positive result can come from it, thus the cheater can eventually be forgiven and seen to be at least partially a person we can still care about.  But if that’s true then we’ve got to have a target for all the hurt and rage and feelings of betrayal and violated trust it causes.  And who better than that charming dude at the party whose only crime was to accept an invitation to have sex?