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Cheater, Cheater

I didn't know it would be so easy.

I have always wondered what type of people cheat on thier partners. It seemed so strange to me that there are people that need to be sexual with another person besides thier partner. Why? I always thought. Is it the thrill of danger, the excitment of being bad? I didn't even think that it could be something besides that, something deeper.
My first real boyfriend cheated on me. We were both in high school, and he had taken me to the school's spring dance. I had been so excitied about it, because he had just gotten his licence, and my mother was letting me go alone with him. I had bought a new baby blue dress, and had stayed in the bathroom for hours perfecting my hair. I thought everything was fine at the time. We were dancing with our friends, having a good time, being young. I had just left to buy a pop with my friends, when I heard the DJ putting on a slow song. I rushed back to the gym, egar to find my boyfriend, when I saw him making out with anohter girl on the dancefloor. I was crushed, and embarassed. "What's the big deal?" He demanded to know later when he phoned me at home. "It's not like we were serious or nothin."
Years later, as I began to date as an adult, cheating became the cardinal sin. Once a cheater, always a cheater was my mantra. Finding a man who hasn't cheated isn't as easy as it sounds. I thought I had found the perfect man when I met Billy. He was dark, althletic, handsome. A real man's man around his friends, but tender and caring around me. Our first night together, we made love under a tree in a park near his house. It was romantic, fun, passionate.
"I want to be with you forever, is that alright?" He would whisper late at night as we lay in bed. His love was overwhelming, fattening. I told him I would always be his, and that nothing would ever tear me from his side. We were together every day for two months before we decided to live together. Everything seemed to work beautifully between us, and for a time, I was happy. Eventually, things in our relationship began to slow down. I didn't see him as much, our talks became impersonal and forced, the sex became non-existant. "I'm busy," He would claim when I confronted him about the growing distance between us. "We'll do something together soon. Everything is fine - we'll go out tomorrow, okay?" It would always end the same way, with him walking away from me. I felt that I was still in love with Billy, but was unsure of where our relationship was heading, or what I really wanted.
Matt changed everything. He was a friend of a friend from work. He was tall, blonde, picture perfect. He had pericing eyes, and a sharp wit. He caught my attention from the first time we met. For the first few weeks, I would only see him when I was out with friends. He would give me a sideways glace, shoot a joke in my direction, and give me a satisfied smile when I'd fire back with a smart comment. He looked like a bad boy, and he stirred up excitment in me.
"So when can I get your number?" He purred into my ear one night, his breath setting my neck on fire.
"I . . . I dunno. I have a boyfriend." I stammered, shocked at the sound of fear in my voice. He pulled away, and looked at me, he eyes revealing nothing. "Okay," he finally replied. "Friends it is then." We talked everyday, all day. He would call me at home, email me at work, send text messages to my cell. He wanted to talk with me, get to know my interests. It felt good to talk with someone who was interested in everything about me.
Billy went one weekend every month to visit his family, who lived in the interior of the province. I generally went with him, but decided this time that I would stay home. Almost the second Billy pulled out of the driveway, Matt called, asking me to come out with him. I invited him over to watch a movie. I didn't even think it was going to be sexual. From the moment he crossed the threshold, Matt set my senses on overload. We drank wine all night long, talking, laughing, making dirty jokes, enticing one another. We never got to the movie.
I wasn't in my body when it happened. I had gotten up from the couch to put my glass in the kitchen, when he was right in front of me. I felt his body pressed against mine, his tounge probing my mouth, his hands in my hair. I knew everything was happening, and I didn't stop it. I couldn't. I just continued to kiss him back, hungry for his touch. My mind watched as I let it all happen. I was doing this - I was kissing another man, I was gropping his crotch, melting in his embrace. We fell to the floor, his hands under my skirt, his pants flying across the room, my moans filling the air. Then it was over, as quickly as it had begun. Matt got up, and put his clothes back on. Then he went to the bathroom. I put my clothes on as well, and took my glass to the kitchen.
Matt went home. Billy come back a day later. We made love as soon as he returned. It was detached again, like it was with Matt. My heart beat wildly as he clumsily pounded his being into me. It was over as quickly as it began, and sleep claimed him instantly. I lay awake, staring at the celing, contemplating my actions. Guilt, fear, and empowerment surged through my head, battling for rule of my frame of mind.
Today Billy asked me to marry him. He took me back to our tree. He had a ring that belonged to his great great grandmother in his pocket.
"I went to see my family to get this," He told me as he produced the box from his pants, "I want you to be a part of my family. I want us to be one." I looked at him for a long time.
"Why do you want me?" I finally asked him.
"Because you fill me." He replied. I suppose that's all anyone every really wants, is to be filled with a love so rich that it devours our essence. I chaeted on Billy, not because I don't love him, but because I was missing something. Matt filled the void, but I'm pretty positive you can't love two people at the same time. That would be cheating.

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