I don’t condone cheating (except when I do)

a confession about principles, loopholes, and what happens when morality meets temptation

A few months ago, I wrote an essay about cheating. I got all self-righteous on the page, declaring I don’t condone it, dragging men who betray their girlfriends, and generally standing tall on my podium of principles.

But last week, I hooked up with someone’s boyfriend. Yes, I knew. No, he didn’t lie about being single.

We met at someone’s birthday. Funny enough, he was there with his girlfriend. Not that I would’ve known if I wasn’t so nosy. He didn’t introduce her as such, and he barely spoke to her. He’s one of those social butterfly guys, the ones who flirt and are so immersed in conversation with everyone around them that they allude to being single. Eye contact was heavy that night. He addressed me multiple times, asking questions, making jokes, and saying there was something familiar about me. I doubt that was true though, since I’d never seen him before.

One day later, he follows me on Instagram and starts liking some stuff. Maybe another day passes, and he swipes up on a story. He made small talk, he flirted. Some more days passed, and he DM’s me. Invites me out. Says he’ll pick me up in an hour. I knew he had a girlfriend. I knew his intentions, and maybe if I wasn’t already having a hard day, I would’ve told him I was busy. But no, I convinced myself that nothing bad could come from some drinks with an attractive guy. That he’d make a move, I’d tell him I knew about his relationship, he’d give up in shame, and we’d be friends.

But that’s not how the night went.