Why Do Men Cheat?

Let’s start at the very beginning, a very good place to start… when you read you begin with A, B, C, when you sing, you begin with doh, reh, mii… when you cheat, it all begins with desire, the desire for adventure, to be better than you are, to achieve more, to have an advantage, to explore...

How did we discover cheating in the first instance? (and please y’all should admit it, we have all cheated at one thing or the other, at one time or the other, or to one end or another. We have all had our moments. It all started from way back in our formative years, you were always told by your raving and ranting dad or mum, of how the other kid down the road was better than you, neater, more respectful, had better grades, had a cuter smile etc.. You then moved on to learning how to mind your own business by playing with your toy car, your ears, peepee, your doll, and or whatever else you had to play with as a kid.

Even then, you were faced with having to always compare notes and strive to have your own things better than the other kids’. Fortunately or unfortunately, I grew up with girls, so I never got drawn into the size competition that always was a topic of conversation in the little boy’s room! Or, I would have, from an early age, gotten drawn into the argument on the variation in finger sizes by age, race, and weight.

The need to always have it better or be the better one as a means of achieving self fulfillment or the feeling of perhaps being fulfilled, to a large extent is responsible for why we all cheat in the first place.

All descriptors need to be used in context and have a central rallying point that can be given credit or blamed. In the military, you rally to the commander, in school, you rally to the principal, in a restaurant, you rally to the chef, in romance, we naturally rally to the female gender. Unfortunately, although everyone cheats, when it comes to cheating, we naturally rally to the MEN. 

How many of you have unconsciously thought of men each time you heard the word cheat? Even in conversation, if you are told that a woman cheated on her man, a good number of you would seek clarification - are you sure she cheated on him? And when that position is confirmed, a good number of you would still blame him for making her cheat on him. So, unfortunately, it all always has to be blamed on the men.

That said, research has shown that men are more prone to cheating in relationships than our saintly women folk. They cheat because they are happy, they cheat because they are sad they cheat to have more adventure, or even to have less. They cheat for bragging rights or to become the topic of the brag. They cheat because their women are too good, too bad, too thin, too fat, or just right. They cheat because of a need to always walk across the lawn and find out if the grass is truly greener on the other side, or if perhaps it is purple.

Men also cheat when they feel insecure, unloved, or unwanted (yes! Believe it or not, under all the six-pack or in my case, rounded one-pack, we still like attention and loads of it. We also want to feel like your world revolves around us, same as you), also, when they feel like they are not getting enough of a good thing or that they are not even getting the good thing as good as it ought to be. One little-known secret is that men cheat, sometimes out of low self-esteem. While your woman sees you as her friend, guy, and sometimes support mechanism (emotional and financial), the daughters of Eve see you as The Man... (and make you feel like your words alone -lies - can melt butter)

Then again, is it cheating if he just drifts emotionally and begins to spend more time with another woman (albeit a friend, colleague, helper, smallie, flow, prazz, fastfood, fish-steaks, or whatever name we choose to call it these days)? or is it when he gets physically involved and starts to explore other nether regions of her wiles? Really and truly, all cheating na cheating! It only takes a moment to really cross that line from friendship to affair, from peace to drama, from knowing to doing. 

All cheating na cheating o jere, irrespective of the nice and funky words we use to cloud the obvious truth.    

All Men Cheat! Either by looking, thinking, touching, hoping, comparing, prying, wishing, doing, and salivating (mentally) yes ke! Since you ladies bitch-slap us for salivating when we see" tins", we have learned how to do so mentally, and savor the experience while maintaining a completely blank expression on our faces. 

Like all organisms, men are an evolving species or more like a sub-set of our specie and a product of the society in which we live. if the society was made up of all upright girls who would insist on not being with men who are engaged or married, then men would naturally evolve to a point where drinking garri with water (and perhaps no sugar) every day of their lives, would not only give them satisfaction, they would actually look forward to drinking it daily.. besides, there wouldn’t be alternatives anyway! 


Can we then safely assume that if there were no evil-causing women/girls/females, there probably wouldn’t be cheating men…? 

At the dawn of time, as the good book tells us, that was the case, and oh yes, there was peace and harmony, and Adam chopped his garri happily and did not complain; until a new horrible menace threatened the existing balance in the universe… SIN.

Thousands and thousands of years ago, Adam and Eve lived in harmony and all was good and right. There was no evil and Eve, who by the way was forged out of one of Adam’s ribs, was the only woman on earth, which automatically made her the most beautiful creature he had ever seen (I wonder where the cute/fluffy rabbits were, or even pandas or kualas).  Suddenly the bad guy snake came into the picture and by the end of the day, an apple had been eaten, Adam and Eve suddenly noticed each other’s hairy and wobbly bits and ran for cover, and as we are made to believe, they both emerged from the experience with a new outlook to life and living. In offering him the apple to chop, Eve inadvertently paved the way for Adam (and indeed all men) to open-eye and seek a better alternative to the bone of our bones that brought us to sin, anger, and disrepute in the eyes of the Big Man. Man has been a wandering adventurer ever since. 

Now that we have dispensed with the history and have traced the roots of male cheating to its earliest origins (the origin of sin itself) and have come to agree that cheating is not the exclusive preserve of men, but as gullible apple-eaters, we are sentenced to carry the guilt and shame of the act, whether-or-not we are guilty, the soul searching should start.

At this point we may want to do some self-assessment… what cheating tendencies are unique to you?, or better yet, how many of your men have actively cheated on you and why? (did they cheat out of a mere longing to cheat, or was it due to your actions or inactions, activity or inactivity perhaps?). If you asked nicely, and not with a pot of boiling oil, a knife, a machete, or a gun in your hands, he probably will tell you why he did it, and you can both move on or learn from it.


I cannot help but think that we have so romanticized cheating itself, and how it should be dealt with and dismissed as a random act of stupidity and greed (thanks to Hollywood, Mills and Boons etc..), and have been led into believing that once you are cheated on, the next course of action is to throw a tantrum and walk away from the relationship because of bruised egos and a sense of being betrayed... (and this goes for men and women alike)


Guess what? believe it or not, generations before us cheated, hell! even our parents may have cheated on their spouses, but they were more tactful and discreet about it than we are now, so, we never knew... I am not advocating that it is okay to cheat, but if and when it happens, do you look at the bigger picture? do you identify the root cause and address it? or do you play the discarded apple and just roll on by?

As I drop my pen (er, or more like my keypad) to go and eat my colleague’s birthday cake and prepare to put on my dancing shoes to celebrate a great man and icon today, Don Yinxie, I cannot but wonder if trying to find an answer to why men cheat isn’t as elusive as finding an appropriate/universally accepted answer to the question “what do women want”?

Most men cheat because they CAN… women cheat because they WANT to, politicians cheat because they MUST, kids cheat because they SHOULDN’T.

So, my friend, why do YOU cheat?

what Women and Society choose not to consider...

Today I awoke to an interesting chat discussion about two separate ladies; the first got jilted after an 8-year-long relationship and was left penniless and alone - after clinging on for 8 years (she is obviously bitter and has been unable to pick up the pieces and move on). 

The other is in a 5-year-long relationship; for 4 out of those 5 years, they were in a long-distance relationship and very involved. However a year ago, the man marries another girl but still professes love to her, so they continue dating and she is now his mistress, happy and still very much in love (most people advised that she leave the chap and move on!). The question is, how right or wrong are her actions in the context of who she is?

Ever wondered how many women get their hearts broken daily, or get jilted, or thrown back in the dating game sadder and with no actual learning from their previous experience? Well, I would save you the mental anguish of trying to come up with a figure… they are just too many to count. An anonymous survey suggests that a fresh heart is broken (globally) every 45 minutes; I reckon that should give you a good idea of the numbers.

Today I shall either make friends or enemies as I touch on a very sensitive issue, like they say, the truth is bitter and it hurts, but somebody has to speak up and say it (I only wish we had such noble speak-up-ers in our national assembly, maybe then they would finally get to doing the jobs that they schemed their way there to do…(oops, sorry, they were supposed to have been elected *rolling eyes*).

Today I choose to demystify relationship types for women and share my thoughts on women in relationships; types and forms of relationships and the potential misconceptions and pitfalls.

It is said that a problem known is a problem almost solved.., and a problem shared is a problem solved, so I have chosen to solve the problem that is a burden to many…, what is the problem? Simply put, Women want to marry, and marry at all costs, why?!

Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against women getting married, or in fact, against the institution of marriage (an institution which like any other, requires the right mindset, positioning, strategy, vision, mission, values, and even stakeholders to succeed). My issue is with the assumption or notion that everyone is destined to be married.

Where do women get the notion that they need to be married to be happy or accepted? Well, I shall take this out on African culture first and foremost. Women are brought up to feel that once you have reached a certain age (or have reached a certain educational level), to earn respect and acceptance, a young girl/lady must be married and proudly wear her husband’s name on her shoulders (like a general wears his ranks and insignia). This is drummed into all our heads from a tender age, so we feel the NEED to marry. (I am focusing on the women-folk today, but guys would have their day in the sun too, men, una too dey show una selves!).

The discerning man and the informed woman would tell you that while men get into relationships at the onset, to discover new things and then, day by day, put up the building blocks of what could become a wonderful relationship, Women, tow the path of Habit 2 – Begin with the end in mind, Marriage! (Steven Covey, Seven Habits of Highly Effective People). So, with their eyes firmly fixed on the goalpost, they make mistakes.

I am not a footballer/soccer fan, nor do I claim to know anything about football besides the fact that it is a game involving 22 males (or females, or mice) chasing around a round leather object, against all logic or reason. However, the game of soccer affords me a clear analogy here. Any footballer worth his boots would tell you that while playing, you should keep your eyes on the ball and not the goal. 

Keeping your eyes on the ball helps you to track, trap it, and even anticipate the moves of attackers, in essence playing football with your eyes on the ball, protects the ball, while playing with your eyes fixed squarely on the goal post alone, leaves you open to challenges and flank attacks, and wait for it… No goals were scored in the end.

How do you know what kind of woman you are? whether you are destined for matrimonial bliss, or you are destined to be happy and raise a family without being married? Well, here are a few points to consider:

For starters, in the context of marriage, love, and relationships, there are different types of females, each with their long and short-term potentials and or limits. You have those ladies who function wonderfully as girlfriends but based on other factors like their relationship with your family and their ability to cope under pressure and other unprintable things (etc.), would be woeful as wives and mothers.

Then you have those that although you cannot keep in your home as wives, or you really do not even think as far as considering them for that role or function. However, these ladies are wonderful in every other respect and provide the best of emotional, physical, and sometimes intellectual satisfaction and fulfillment (these are the girls who are responsible for your broken home, if your man suddenly upped and stopped sleeping at home, they are open-minded and skilled in the way of the world and do not want to be ‘tamed’, locked down, or caged). It is not in your best interest, or their best interest to build a home with them.

Then of course you have the true-to-template boring or quiet girlfriend that has the potential for fun and excitement with the right inducement and encouragement – for this lot, the moment they are ring-cuffed (sorry, engaged), they suddenly unleash their hidden potential and pull out all the stops (now this could go either way: either they become the best thing that ever happened to you, or they could potentially become husband beaters – depending on how you treat them). Those in this group are marry-able.

Then of course, you have the girls who fuel your passion and set you alight for as long as they are involved in a discreet coded relationship with you, with no emotional drama or commitments, no unnecessary policing. They thrive as coded lovers and make the best mistresses. The moment you in a moment of weakness or at the point of happy release suggest that you want to take the relationship to the next level, the relationship and all the passion suddenly goes downhill. (The other extreme of this group would if they choose to accept the offer for MORE, suddenly adopt a ‘wife approach to being a mistress, the fun and passion is gone, thereby defeating the purpose of wanting MORE). These are the group that effectively service the adventure needs of the MFT (men from town or upwardly mobile young men - or young aristos) 

We all know of the wife-material group: those ladies that have positioned themselves or have nurtured themselves into what Mr. Right considers his ideal woman. They are not perfect but they seem to complete their men, they do not hold any fairytale notions of what love and life should be, they are not driven by money or greed, but by the potential they see in their man… they constantly have their eyes on the ball and know to protect and nurture it. If you find them, love them, keep them, marry them!.

Then of course you have the goody-two-shoes, (case in point, Bree from Desperate Housewives), these girls can kill! They have so much pent-up anger and resentment in them that although they appear very controlled and chilled, they are a time bomb waiting to explode. People like Bree seek the comfort of being cared for and loved, not necessarily the presence of a husband. In an ideal world, they shouldn't even be dated exclusively. (except you have a shrink on retainer)

Of course, there is the violently single girl who derives joy in serial dating and has no long or short-term plans of being married, so much so that a good number of them will tell you that having babies is nowhere in their plan. This is a unique group, Do you think men like ‘toys’? You should meet these ladies and spend time with them, they play the men's game, and play it well and even a lot better. 

Lastly, you have the group of informed intelligent independent women who because of societal pressure want to marry or even get married and are miserable at it. They become depressed and resentful. Not because they are mean or they are evil, but because they simply are not cut out to be happy in the institution of marriage. This group produces the best mums, albeit single mums and they have all the love and passion to give to that significant man (men) in their lives as long as there are no fake or unnecessary promises of a blissful marriage somewhere along the line.

Have you sat down to dig deep and search within your heart mind and soul to know the type and kind of woman you are? What your relationship trajectory is and how best to achieve that trajectory realistically and without compromising on who your heart and mind tell you that you are?

Although this may be a bitter pill to swallow, I guess it should get us all thinking. The key phrase here is a paradigm shift. Just as we cannot expect everyone who goes to school to end up as a lawyer or engineer or neurosurgeon, in the same thought process, we cannot expect every young girl to become a wife, talk-less of being a happily married wife.

I have said my two cents worth and I hope someone out there connects with this and begins her journey along the right trajectory.

What say you?


End.

Love hurts, take it or leave it!

So, it is like this; I woke up thinking through a couple of my experiences along my life's journey, mostly at those moments i took, or rather, attempted to take a detour through the dark alleyways of love. There seemed to be a recurrent theme - love, like dark chocolate, felt good, but more often than not, leaves a bitter, if not a sour taste in your mouth.

How did it all begin? Those who know me well, and I doubt anyone can lay claim to that, will tell you that I started out very early on the adventure quest for love. During my nursery school days, I had already figured out that - Lesson 1: boys and girls were fundamentally different, and that there was something that girls had to give boys - and that boys wanted, and I wanted that thing (even though I didn't know exactly what it was), and I sure as hell was gonna get it!

My first (documented) love in Nursery Two, was Jessy, she was my classmate in school, and oh boy was she gorgeous! a mulatto (or half-caste like we called them back then). she had long legs, dark hair, and rosy cheeks. All I thought of as I skipped to school daily with glee (imagine a chubby male version of little red riding hood but without the red cape) was staring into Jessy's eyes where the sun seemed to rise and the moon... well, I had no idea what the moon did at night because I was not allowed to stay up that late at 5 or 6 years old!

As a toddler, I had already fine-tuned the art of fantasizing... in my fantasies, I was Mickey and she was Minnie mouse and we always played and sailed away together in the cartoon world, on a tugboat. Lesson 2: (if you can dream it, you can achieve it)  I don't recall the exact words I used in spinning her, all I know is that my lunch box, my 'Mothercare' (R) pant (fondly called pata back then - those two-color striped pants... I loved the red ones and blue ones the most), and of course, my mickey-mouse watch which had Mickey skating through the watch to tell the time. Then it happened, Susan transferred to my class from some other school and it hit me... two mulattoes are better than one! - Mistake 1

Thus came my first official experience with cheating, which ultimately led to my first panic attack as a result of not knowing how to calm an irate, crying little girl. my little-boy mind didn't understand why she seemed to be so concerned that I was spending more time with Susan, sharing part of my lunch with her, and even kissing her every now and then at the back of the class during recess.

Lesson 3: if you treasure your sanity, do not make her mad and jealous! I knew she was hurting, but I liked the attention I was getting from Susan (and didn't notice how much she was hurting); she showed me in good time.

During the lunch break on some fateful day, my class teacher singled me out in class (it was a moral instruction class) and asked me if I had done anything wrong at home of late. With all the little boy swagger I could muster, I said no. Then she did the unthinkable. (She held in her hand a ring and a bracelet).

Weeks earlier, I had accidentally picked up one of my mum's rings and another of her bracelets (gold) and had as a true reflection of love given them to Jessy and Susan at different times, and had foolishly told Susan never to mention it to Jessy. Lesson 4: Code it, and code it well!  That was my undoing, and another lesson in love and relationships, Lesson 5: Women Talk to each other (they leave all their differences behind and gang up to attack a perceived common enemy). Somehow, both girls talked and not only exchanged items but felt that they should proudly inform the class teacher that they were 'getting married to Femi'. Somehow, I had convinced them both of the value of them marrying me and having little cuddly, baby Femi (er, now that I think about it, how would that have happened exactly?)

While I stood in front of the class fidgeting nervously as my sins were read out to me, my Mum walks into the class (she had been called in by my class teacher).  A sore bum, a spinning headache, and three buckets of tears later, I finally figured out what had happened; my mother went Jackie-Chan on me and afterward, threatened my very existence with the words "wa dele wa bami" (I'll be waiting for you at home).

Surprisingly, both girls felt obliged to pet me and reassure me - Lesson 6: If you know how to cry, it just may wash your love-sins away. I would rather not go into the details of how I got home and was pampered into having a black eye, and how I was suddenly being stared at by a bunch of irate women (code-named aunties) who felt honour-bound to each offer a knock or a slap as led by the spirit.

The implications of my innocent attempt at sharing my heart and attempting to love so early in life included being suspended for two weeks (I think the school was more concerned with my promise to make them have baby-Femi's than the fact that I had given out my mother's jewelry as a mark of undying love).

Lessons learned, I moved on through the rest of primary school without incident - more out of fear of my mum and the 'aunties', and the fact that my mother constantly reminded me of my acts of foolishness in the quest for love.... she reminds me to this day.

Love in secondary school was a different experience. To sum it up, I learned that if done wrong, the wages of love is failure. In form 3, I fell in love again, she was, true to form, yallow, gorgeous, and had the loveliest eyes I had ever seen, at the time. (I shall call her SA). Everything about her made my heart beat faster, I even descended to a perpetual state of denial, and it took the wise counsel of older males in my life at that time, to convince me that she, like everyone else, farted (but that could not deter me....I was sure her fart smelled like the essence of strawberry). I may have genuinely loved SA and always found a way to be around her, and she knew it: I even applied to join the Girl's Guide (she was a member); of course, I was firmly rejected by the club.

Then came the next Lesson, 7: peer pressure is cool, but is just wrong in the context of love and loving. The more she opened up to me, the more I had to (pose) that was the trend then, you had to feel like you were doing her a favour by being with her. Foolishly, I succumbed to peer pressure, hurt her feelings, and she left me.

I stopped eating, I stopped reading (not like I did much reading in the first place, anyway), and for the first time in my life, I lost so much weight that I could see my feet without my tummy being in the way). I lost the second (documented) love of my life *insert huge sad smiley here*
 
Long story short, since I did not read, I did not pass my exams! and if you fail, you must repeat (borrowing the words of a public figure to justify why his son, a then governor was qualified to run for a second term in office – if you fail, you must repeat your class, He has failed, let him repeat his term as governor).
 
So, for a brief moment, I became a state governor, I was an emotional wreck, and I vowed not to love again, but I soon got over it, swiftly. My experience (in my formative years) at storybook, fairy-tale, Mills and Boons, Silhouette, Pacesetters, and Temptations-love has been a mix of pleasure and pain...starts with pleasure, ends with pain. But the brief moments of passion, pleasure, and bonding make the underlying pain worth bearing.

The butterfly-in-tummy, spinning head, and the feeling of floating in the clouds is a truly wonderful feeling, but is that love?

Love is a decision and not a feeling o jere. It is a decision to open up to joy and happiness and occasional pain, to cry when you are happy, and cry when you are sad; it is a decision to make yourself vulnerable on purpose.

Love hurts.


'Back in the days when I was young, I'm not a kid anymore, but some days I sit and wish I was a kid again' (anonymous)


end

Biography of Humpy The He-Goat

Born some odd twenty-something years ago to proud parents, Billy and Brenda Humpy, little Humpy started out like every other kid. He loved to laugh, cry, poop, sing, and most importantly, grab things and stick his finger into things; those were the early days, the formative years that molded Humpy into the proud billy-goat he is today.

 As I set about writing this biography, I promised myself that in the pursuit of truth and good writesmanship only I shall pay attention to only the important details of his life to date, shed light on his great moments, and give generations to come someone, or better yet, something to learn from.

Very early in life, little Humpy had already decided on where he was headed and what he wanted to be. the year was 1986, the Moral Instruction class when Mrs. Fletcher, the form instructor, asked the question (containing these ten words) that changed little Humpy's life forever - What Would You Like To Be When You Grow Up? 

Bursting with energy and literally glowing from the 'invincible' 200-watt bulb hovering above his head/struggling for space with the ever-present halo (the sign of innocence that all babies have and which they lose after they have their first sustained naughty thought), Humpy raised his hand to signal to his teacher his intention to speak.


Yes, Humpy, she said calmly and encouragingly, He shot up like the Apollo space probe destined for greatness in outer space... I want to be a He-Goat, not the animal though, but a He-goat like my uncle Willie, ma! (silence, then more silence). Everything froze in time, the drops of water seeping from the tap in the corner of the room, the wind, the hearts of the little kids, their eyes (blink-less) even Charlie, the foulest kid in the class froze in mid-fart! 

As if unaware of the effect of his proclamation on everyone/thing around him, he continued...

I want to be a he-goat, they have all the fun and no one ever gives them much of a hassle, SIT DOWN, Mrs. Fletcher said (finally able to speak after the initial shock and after wrestling with her inner demons who somehow held her accountable for Humpy's utterances). little Humpy sat, not understanding her sudden aggression towards him, he turned to Little Johnny his best mate for advice... None came.

Uncle Willie was a man around town, many a time, little Humpy had seen Mrs. Fletcher steal knowing looks at him, and then mutter some unprintable words under her breath which always ended with a curse and the words 'foolish He-goat'. Uncle Willie was a local legend and the source of pride for the Humpy Clan.

At age 3, he had his first kiss, at Age 12, he had become the local heart-breaker, and at age 18, he had become listed on the local stock exchange as an export-grade service/service provider, what was his trade? well, how about you ask Mrs. Fletcher and get yourself a talking-to that would end in a lot of unprintable words... (rumour even has it that Williamina, the good looking village-bicycle, and daughter of Mrs. Fletcher, was fathered by him) well, the apple truly doesn't fall far from the tree... I am guessing that partly explains the nature of Uncle Willie and Mrs. Fletcher's unspoken feud.

In his teens, Humpy did live up to the reputation of his favourite Uncle Willie; having spent one too many a night running down the streets being chased by fathers and brothers of innocent little girls and devilish little girls alike; from all of this, he learned one key lesson:  irrespective of what the girls' fathers said or did, Okafor's Law reigned supreme.

Now in his 20s, a vibrant fellow, a regular chip off the old block, Humpy has been severally described, by several, as mean, a heart-breaker, cheat, a deceiver, an unrepentant flirt, a user, and more. Most importantly, he, just last week, finally achieved his lifelong aim, the coveted title (worn proudly by one person per generation of Humpy's), He-Goat!

Humpy, in the middle of a well-laid-out candle-lit dinner for two, finally got the title bestowed upon him in grand fashion, he was knighted Humpy the He-Goat by Sheila, his latest lover and victim!, How was he knighted you dare ask?

A slap, no, make that two, a glass of Merlot poured in his face and trickling down to his snow white shirt (well starched and well creased on all edges), as she uttered the words, I hate you, and I hope you get hit by an airplane, you rabid He-Goat!  ...in utter bewilderment, he got down on one knee and wiped the sting of the matured vino from his eyes...

When he arose, he arose a changed man, the feeling of accomplishment, overwhelming.. he had a teardrop in his eye as he arose, overcome with emotion...

He was finally there and had earned the title reserved for a chosen few...He had become one with the force, he had become Humpy, the He-Goat!

- end -

credits: Image culled from Google Images