Keith’s Story
My mother always taught me to treat women with respect. She also taught me that if a man were honest with his woman, he would receive the same in return. But my mother never met anyone like Cynthia. She turned out to be a real heartbreaker. We met at City College two years ago. The moment I laid eyes on her in the cafeteria, I knew she was the one for me. She had hazel eyes, a beautiful smile, and she was a nerd like me. And because she ran track, her body was in great shape. What a package! But the problem with this perfect package was how appealing it was to the other guys on campus. They wanted to unwrap it as much as I did. As it turned out, she had been unwrapped and test driven several times before and during our relationship.
For the first twelve months we were together, life was great. Cynthia and I went to concerts, plays, and amusement parks together. You name it, we did it. However, the following year things began to get a little shaky. I was accepted at a University in Atlanta, and she was staying here in Chicago. I thought the distance might cause a problem between us, so I sat down with her and discussed having an open relationship.
“Look Cynthia, I’m going to be away for three and four months at a time. I’ll understand it if you want to see other guys while I’m gone.”
“Is that really what you want, Keith?” she said sounding upset.
“Not really, but you are an attractive young woman and I know these guys are going to be sweating you left and right.”
“Why don’t you let me worry about that? I’m a big girl, and I can handle myself. But are you sure this idea of breaking up isn’t for your benefit?”
“You know better than that baby. I only wanted to give you an opportunity to call it quits without any guilty feelings.”
‘Well, don’t do me any favors,” she said as her eyes began to swell up with tears. “I know what I want, and it’s you.”
Needless to say, this was good news for me because I loved this woman and wanted desperately to be her first love. I had been waiting patiently for two years and I wanted to be rewarded.
During the first three months of school, Cynthia and I talked every day on the phone. But after only three months, once a day turned into once every other day, then once every three days. I didn’t think much about it because mid-term exams were kicking my ass. And besides, Christmas break was coming up and we knew we would be getting together. The day of my last test, I called Cynthia and told her when to expect me home. I couldn’t afford airfare so I decided to ride up with some friends who lived in Chicago. They were going to drop me off on Christmas Eve and pick me up the day after New Years. Everything was set until the guy whose car I was supposed to ride in had an accident the day we were going to leave. “How bad can your luck get?” I asked myself. Of course, I had to call Cynthia with the bad news. She seemed very upset and disappointed that I couldn’t make it. The emphasis is on the word seemed. As I sat in my dormitory room disappointed and horny as hell, good old Dad came through with airfare. I decided not to call Cynthia and surprise her for Christmas!” And as it turned out, I was the one who got the surprise.
Once my plane landed, I thought about catching a taxi. But one look at the heavy traffic on the Kennedy Expressway and I was easily persuaded to take the train. I followed the signs to the CTA train station under the airport and hopped aboard the crowded cars. The ride to 95th street took about an hour, so I killed time by daydreaming about Cynthia. Man, it’s going to feel good to hold her again, I was thinking. And who knows, maybe she’ll even give me some pussy for Christmas.
Once I snapped out of my horny fantasy, I became more concerned about how lonely she must have been without me. Her mother was out of town on business and her best friend was spending the day with her boyfriend’s family. I knew she would be home alone with no one to keep her company. I was anxious to come to her rescue.
When the train reached my stop, I battled my way through the heavy crowd and headed straight for the florist. By the time I got there all of the red roses had been sold out, so I bought a long stem yellow rose and a beautiful card instead. After all, it’s the thought that counts. When I arrived at her place, I peeked into the living room window hoping to startle her. But all I saw was a bottle of beer on the table and a nightgown hanging over the chair. Although Cynthia hated alcohol, I didn’t think much of it. I decided to go around back to knock on her bedroom window. “She’s really going to be shocked.” I thought. But what happened next shocked only me.
As I tiptoed around to the rear, I began to hear faint sounds of a thumping and squeaking. The closer I got, the louder it became. “Squeak, thump, squeak, thump!” Somebody was getting busy, and I mean real busy. Once I made it around to her window, it was clear where those sounds were coming from.
“Whose is it, whose is it?” a man’s voice asked forcefully.
“It’s yours baby, it’s yours,” Cynthia’s exhausted voice submitted.
“Is it good baby, is it good?”
“Yes, baby it’s good. Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”
My heart dropped to the ground. And yes, I cried. Here I was playing the perfect gentleman, waiting patiently for her to be ready. Come to find out she was ready all along. I was willing to let her pursue other relationships. But no! She elected to hold out on me, while sleeping with everybody else on the side. I stood for a moment leaning against the wall in total shock, listening to my girlfriend getting banged by some dude. Then I pulled out my pen and wrote her a message on the card I bought.
Dear Cynthia,
Today you broke my heart. I came home to surprise you, but it was me who got the surprise. For years I was fooled into believing your body was priceless. I waited on you to be ready so we could share something special. But as I have finally found out, you’re worthless, nothing more than flea market trash.
But I want to say, Thank you. Thank you for screwing me as well as the man you were with today, although I’m sure he enjoyed it more than I did. But most importantly, thank you for a special kind of education about trusting women. It is one that I will carry with me for the rest of my life.
Signed,
No More Mr. Nice Guy
P.S. Let this flower be a reminder of how sweet and caring a man I used to be.
Vicious Cycle
Many women will argue that men being hurt in relationships has nothing to do with why they cheat. But it is clear to me from listening to a number of these stories, that the effects can be devastating. Any relationship that has a chance at longevity must be built on trust. And if that trust is damaged, whether it happens today or ten years ago, the man will be hesitant to trust or love again. Some people may call it putting up a wall, immaturity, or even insecurity. The point is a man will do whatever it takes to keep from being hurt again. And while he’s about the business of blocking his feelings, getting even, or whatever you want to call it, guess who’s getting hurt? That’s right, the innocent woman who had absolutely nothing to do with his bad experiences. Of course, the vengeful man is unwilling to stop long enough to take this into account. In his mind, everyone must pay, the women who have injured him in the past and those who might play games in the future. Unfortunately this type of mentality is destructive and creates a vicious cycle of manipulation. The hurt man makes the next woman in his life pay for something she didn’t do; she in turn gets even with the next man she dates. This melodrama plays out over and over again from generation through generation. When will it ever end?
NOTHIN’ BUT THE DOG IN ME
What examination of the cheating man would be complete without a long hard look at the infamous D-O-G? As one woman so eloquently put it, “Any man who cheats is a dog, atomic dog, under dog, mighty dog, and last but not least, deputy dog.” Now, after you have collected yourselves off the floor from laughter, we can look deeper into the mind of this pathological sex addict and player. To begin with, he has a chauvinistic attitude towards women. In his mind, women are sexual objects put on this earth for the sole purpose of sat
isfying his needs. Forget about qualities like personality, education, and sense of humor. Those traits are unnecessary for the duties he needs performed. As one man boldly stated, “A woman’s reading skills and Ph.D. won’t be of much use when she’s lying on her back.”
The dog cheating man is a habitual liar who has mastered the art of insensitivity. While looking his wife or girlfriend squarely in the eyes, he can say, “I love you,” and then sleep with her best friend without an ounce of guilt. To put it frankly, he can marry you on Sunday and screw the bridesmaids on Monday. And what does the dog have to say in his defense? Not a damned thing! He is a cold-hearted, selfish-minded, menace to female society who makes no apologies for his conduct. As a matter of fact, he actually believes he’s doing women a favor by spreading himself around. Matt rationalized his behavior this way, “Let’s be honest, there aren’t enough good men to go around. If every man chose to be monogamous, who would all these single women have sex with?”
This arrogant remark is just one example of how crude the Dog can be. He has an ego the size of the Grand Canyon and a little black book that resembles the yellow pages. Women are merely numbers with notches next to their names to indicate their level of sexual performance, orally and otherwise. The act of sex has no emotional significance; he has mastered the art of emotional detachment. Sex is nothing more than a sport to measure against previous conquests or simply to pass the time away. The Dog cheater is the star of every reality series and the subject of most rap songs. The titles may vary but the message is all the same, hit it, split it, punch it, and drop it. Meanwhile the dance floor is packing with dizzy women pumping their hands in the air singing along to these disrespectful lyrics. The dog is watching from the bar with a drink in his hand, thinking, “That’s right, keep on singing, because I’ll be punching one of you tonight when the party is over!”
Thirty-seven-year-old Ron is one of those scheming men watching from the sidelines. He has been divorced for three years and says that his desire to be with other women is too overwhelming to control. In his own words, “Men are warriors who must venture out and conquer. It’s not that we’re not satisfied at home, every now and then we need new pussy, it’s that simple.” Well, it’s quite obvious this guy won’t receive any awards for deep intellectual thought. However, you must admit his statement is typical of how most men think. They see themselves as animals trying to be spiritual, when in fact they are spiritual beings fighting against their animalistic selves, or flesh. This is the distinct characteristic of the Dog. He is a self-proclaimed beast who is unwilling to elevate himself above primitive behavior. For the purpose of this chapter, so be it!
The Dog Pound
Understanding the Dog is as simple as 1-2-3. One, he has no regard for the feelings of anyone except his own. Two, he will do whatever it takes to get women into bed. And three the Dog proceeds with his sexual assault on women simply because he loves the game. And I mean LOVE! How does the Parliament song go?
Why must I feel like that?
Why must I chase the cat?
Nothing but the dog in me!”
This is his Anthem, his motto, and his mentality. Forget about negative role models. This guy has made a conscious choice to have as many women as humanly possibly. Of course, I’m still referring to 37-year-old Ron. He is the epitome of the cheating Dog. As far back as he can remember he hasn’t been able to keep his hands off of the girls. While the other little boys were out playing baseball and basketball, he was organizing a game of Spin the Bottle and Catch a Girl Kiss A Girl.
As an adult, he has never managed to remain monogamous for more than two months at a time. Which obviously explains why he’s divorced. The controversy surrounding Ron had nothing to do with his lack of sexual control but his unwillingness to accept 100% of the responsibility for his behavior. He actually had the audacity to blame women for at least half of his dogish deeds. What does he mean by that, you ask? Don’t ask me. Let’s get it straight from the horse’s mouth or should I say, “Straight from the pound?”
Ron’s Story
First of all, I resent the term “Dog” to describe what is simply a lifestyle choice. I choose to have several women; it’s that simple. In my opinion this is the only sane way to carry on with relationships. No commitment, no worries, and no headaches. I can come and go as I please, no questions asked. Sure, I may have to lie every now and then to keep the peace, but women expect that anyway. I just keep my business under cover so nobody gets hurt. Now before you get the idea I’m being cold-blooded about this whole monogamy thing, let me explain something to you. I’ve tried to be faithful on a number of occasions, but I just can’t do it. No matter how attractive and sexually satisfying the woman is, sooner or later I get bored.
Like most men, I need a little variety to keep things spicy. And having sex with different women provides me with that. I try to explain to women that there’s nothing they can do to stop a man from creeping. I don’t care if they do a strip tease and pole dance for their man every night; at some point it’s going to get old. It’s not about another woman’s sex being better, it’s just different. There’s no feeling in the world that can compare to meeting someone new and taking them to bed. You get a rush as she unsnaps her bra and pulls off her pants for the first time. It’s kind of like Christmas and New Years rolled up into one night. First you unwrap the gift then you celebrate until the break of dawn. I know this may sound raunchy, but it’s real. I love the idea of lying in bed with a tender young thang on Friday and waking up next to an experienced vet on Saturday. After all, a man needs more than one pair of shoes to wear, right? You need a pair for jogging, a pair for work, and a dress pair. Women are no different. You’ve got to be able to mix it up a bit.
The most upsetting thing about being a so-called Dog is listening to other men beg and kiss women’s asses just to get into their pants. They use stupid lines such as, “Sex isn’t everything you know. Or, I prefer a woman who has something to offer intellectually.” Fuck that! I’ll take a great blowjob over a spelling bee any day. The only academic requirements I insist on are basic reading and writing skills. If she can scribble her phone number on a napkin, and decipher the street address to my apartment, she’s a rocket scientist as far as I’m concerned.
Then you have these hypocritical married men who stand on their soapboxes preaching monogamy. They brag about how wonderful married life is and try to convince you to settle down. But those are usually the same horny bastards who end up on the ten o’clock news getting busted at The Starlight Motel with some hooker named Trixie. The truth of the matter is all men have a little dog in them. If they had the opportunity to lie down with a sexy woman without being found out, most of them would do it without a second thought. I don’t know of any man in his right mind who fantasizes about having sex with only one woman for the rest of his life. If he tells you he does, he’s either lying, gay, or impotent.
Now let me explain what I meant by women being responsible in part for my behavior. To begin with, I think they should take a long hard look at just how provocatively they dress when leaving the house. Today’s fashions can make even the most innocent choirgirl look like a whore. Women have begun to dress in ways that puts more emphasis on what they have to offer downstairs as opposed to upstairs. I can go anywhere downtown, during business hours mind you, and see women walking around with half of their behind showing and their nipples sticking through their blouses. And these same women will have the nerve to ask, “What are you looking at?” And “Why are men so doggish?” Give me a break! Women know men are only human. If they truly wanted us to stop acting like dogs, they would make more of an effort to cover up those delicious looking bones.
Women also have the nerve to expect men to be 100% honest about their marital status. But again, their attire makes it virtually impossible. How can any mortal man resist telling a lie when he’s confronted by a woman wearing a short skirt, a fresh paint job, and a push up bra with her breast on the verge of pop
ping out? Then they have the nerve to ask, “Do you have a girlfriend?” or “Are you married?” One look at her small waist, thick thighs, and those 36 double D’s and he’s going to instantly become the most eligible bachelor in America. Even the most loyal of men have been known to crack under the pressure of a beautiful face and a pair of large breasts. The fact that he has a wife, two children, and a dog at home doesn’t even cross his mind until after he has sex with her. “Selective Amnesia,” I call it.
Revealing clothing isn’t the only reason why I feel women contribute to infidelity. The Dogs like my friends and I are bombarded daily with examples of how lonely and desperate women are. So desperate in fact, that I recently saw a program where a woman was getting married to herself. Now, tell me there isn’t a need for the dog to pitch in. Women have bought completely into the “Male Shortage Theory,” which is perfectly fine with us. I love to watch reality shows where women make fools out of themselves fighting over half a man. Every week there’s a new show on TV shows like The Bachelor where overly anxious women literally fight over rich men hoping to get married. And what type of message do you think this sends to the so-called Dogs of the world? I’ll tell you what the message is, “Sex them all and take no prisoners!”
Never Satisfied: Do Men Know What They Want? Page 11