The deeply private moment when cheating begins…
Today we begin with a hypothetical question, which–on its surface–may seem to have a straightforward, obvious, undeniable answer. However, this question raises a larger point about everything we pretend to understand about relationships, and particularly what we assume we understand about monogamy (and when infidelity technically begins). So while your answer to this question might seem unambiguous, the criteria you use to reach the conclusion are generally more important than the answer itself. In other words, what you say doesn’t matter as much as why you choose to say it.
The question s called the Jack and Jane Hypothetical, and it goes like this:
Let’s say you have two friends named Jack and Jane. They have been romantically involved for two years, and the relationship has always been good. Then one day Jack calls you and sadly mutters, “Jane just broke up with me.” You ask why this happened. Jack says, “She thinks I cheated on her.” You ask, “Well, did you?” Jack says, “I’m not sure. Something strange happened.”
This is what Jack proceeds to tell you:
“There is this woman in my apartment building who I barely know. I’ve seen her in the hallway a few times, and we’ve just sort of nodded our hellos. She is very normal looking, neither attractive nor unattractive. Last week, I came home from the bar very drunk, and I ran into her while I was getting my mail. She was drunk, too. So just to be neighborly, we decided to go to her apartment to have one more beer. But because we were intoxicated, the conversation was very loose and slightly flirtatious. And then she suddenly tells me that she has a bizarre sexual quirk: She can have an orgasm only if a man watches her masturbate. This struck me as fascinating, so I started asking questions about why this was. And then–somehow–it just sort of happened. I never touched her and I never kissed her, but I ended up watching this woman masturbate. And then I went home and went to bed. I told Jane about this a few days later, mostly because it was all so weird. But Jane went fucking insane, and she angrily said our relationship was over. Now she won’t even return my calls.”
Whose side do you take, Jack’s or Jane’s?
I have posed this question to myriad people, and their reactions fall into two broad categories. Women almost always think Jane’s rage is completely valid; men typically inquire about the availability of housing in Jack’s hypothetical building. Women usually agree that this offense warrants a breakup, while most men think it merely deserves tenure in the doghouse. But what’s noteworthy is that while almost no one disputes that Jack did something wrong, everyone uses a slightly different, weirdly personal argument to explain what makes it so bad. The scenario raises so many other questions. For example, how different is this from watching porn? How different is it from getting a lap dance? Is this situation better or worse than if Jack had drunkenly kissed his neighbor? Would it make any difference if the neighbor had been behind a glass partition? Many people point to the “intimacy” of the exchange. But if that’s the case, the conversation preceding the episode seems as troublesome as the masturbation itself. And if Jack honestly saw this encounter as “weird” (as opposed to “erotic”), shouldn’t he be forgiven completely? Isn’t he just being penalized for being curious?
This is why the Jack and Jane Hypothetical is such a vexing scenario. The question really isn’t “Whose side do you take?” The true question is “When, exactly, does cheating begin?”
There’s a documentary on Cinemax this month called Loving & Cheating, and it consists mostly of average couples talking about the complexity of their sex lives. The crux of the program asks if monogamy is still relevant, and the answer is (essentially) “maybe not.” In the year 1900, the average life expectancy was forty-seven years; in 2000, it was seventy-seven years. According to some “sexperts,” monogamy just can’t compete with the modern life span; these sexperts believe we simply live too long to realistically anticipate staying with any one individual for our entire adult lives. And maybe this is true. Maybe it would be easier to remain faithful to your girlfriend if you both assumed you’d get typhoid before turning fifty. But this is reverse engineering. In fact, this logic is probably why so many people have affairs (and why half of modern first marriages end in divorce). Because where this argument ultimately leads is that it’s mathematically unreasonable to be monogamous. And that, I think, is probably when cheating begins. It’s not about physical contact or emotional intimacy; it begins the moment anyone decides that it’s unreasonable to be sexually committed to one person. Once a person comes to that conclusion, it doesn’t matter what she does (or doesn’t do). If she is a reasonable person–and if she truly thinks remaining monogamous is inherently unreasonable–you have to assume that the only reason she’s not sleeping with other people is because a) she can’t find anyone else to sleep with, or b) she’s afraid she’ll get caught. And these are–without question–the two main hurdles that stop people from cheating.
I recall drinking brandy with a friend who was in the early stages of dating an absolutely gorgeous nurse. She was a hardworking blond who loved to throw back tequila shots, dance to Trick Daddy, and bake cookies on the weekend. We agreed that she was close to ideal. Yet my friend was certain that this romance was never going to work out, and I couldn’t understand why. “What singular quality would this woman need to make this relationship a success?” I asked. He answered immediately: “The ability to be nine other women.” This struck me as incredibly self-aware. My friend just didn’t think it was reasonable to stay with any one person, regardless of her merit. When people cheat, it has almost nothing to do with who they’re with or who they potentially want; it just has to do with whether they view monogamy as a realistic way to exist. And people are amazingly flexible about this. It is easy to be ethical when you’re single, but it’s much harder when you are not.
When I was in my twenties, I figured something out: If you are a weird-looking dude (which I am) and you want to date exclusively beautiful women (which I do), the key is to pursue beautiful women who are already in relationships. Let’s say you live in Omaha and you meet a hot single woman who is actively dating lots of guys. In order to win her affection, you have to be more desirable than every other single guy in Omaha. It’s you against everybody. However, let’s say you meet a hot woman who is dating some dude named Mitch. This situation is way, way easier. Now you merely have to be more desirable than Mitch. It’s you against him. However, what I’ve come to realize is that I was not convincing these women to like me; I was merely convincing them that staying faithful to Mitch was unreasonable. I wasn’t seducing them in any real context; I was simply eroding their morality.
We all have a lot of regrets, I suppose.
But here is the bottom line: Motivation is everything. Wanting to cheat on someone but failing is no different from actually cheating, and the reason something happens is way more important than the action itself. This is why watching your neighbor masturbate is not necessarily a reason to lose your girlfriend, particularly if you were drunk and merely trying to get your mail. And if you disagree with this, you’re just being unreasonable.
Men Behaving Faithfully
” The romantic criticism most often directed toward men is obvious: Males, it is argued, have an inherent fear of commitment. But perhaps this is not true, particularly if you are a writer who lives (or has lived) on the East Coast. A new anthology titled Committed: Men Tell Stories of Love, Commitment, and Marriage (Bloomsbury, $25) asks seventeen writers (almost all of whom seem to be successful New York authors) to talk about how they are able to remain faithful to whomever they happen to be in love with. The book’s introduction is by Bright Lights, Big City scribe Jay McInerney, who opens this meditation on commitment by admitting that he’s been married three times and recently avoided a fourth. This is kind of funny, but his explanation is less crazy than it might seem. What this book is about, ultimately, is men coming to grips with the fact that they sometimes cheat because they’re romantic; very often, they miss the intensity and excitement of a new love affair, and they want to feel that intensity again. They start to accept fidelity only when they learn that monogamy and happiness can still be interesting. Committed also includes a typically clever essay by David Sedaris, so you can always give this book to your wife for Valentine’s Day if you get bored halfway through. –C.K.
Related posts
- Reading: The Secret Lives of Men, by Walter Kirn
- To Tell or Not to Tell
- More LeAnn
- Don't try this at home: Suing Your Husband's Mistress
- Don’t Try This At Home: Long Distance Relationships
