Loyalty is for Dogs
"Men cheat because they're bored, I cheat because I'm curious"
Trigger warning:
Cheating. Lying. Emotional carnage. Contains morally dubious decisions and an unreliable narrator who might be playing you.
If you’ve ever been the villain or the victim, this might sting a bit.
I always smile when they ask me why.
I cheated. Yes. And?
I need material, not soulmates.
They always end up asking the same questions: Why? Don’t you even feel a little bad?! What about what we had? Was it ever real?
So many questions and exclamations. Sighhh.
And why should I feel guilty? As if it’s a woman’s birthright to feel guilty. No thanks. I feel relaxed, moisturised, and content.
Mide, my most recent victim—or boyfriend, if you prefer—was the only one I almost felt sorry for. Almost.
He was the ‘perfect boyfriend.’ Good job, good teeth, soft hands. Very sweet. Boring in bed. Too polite in text.
He once told me I was “his peace.” LOL. I nearly choked. I’d wanted to take my time before showing him shege. But when he said I was his peace, I knew it was time for war, so I sped up my plans.
No good story is ever “peaceful.”
The funny thing is that for someone who acted like the best boyfriend in the world, he was so clueless.
It took him almost three months to catch on that I was cheating. Guess he wasn’t that good of a boyfriend if he wasn’t paying attention.
I even left him clues like coming home smelling like male cologne, swollen lips, and a hickey on my neck. Still, he didn’t notice. Or perhaps he did, but refused to believe the implication.
Finally, one night when I was with Deji, Mide called. I told him to pick it.
“Let’s scatter everything once and for all,” I said.
Deji, too, the fool, was eager to do it because I promised him I would be with him once Mide and I broke up. In his mind, he was taking out his competition.
Mide’s tears were so sweet, until they weren’t. He cried and cried, while asking me the same tired questions, when I returned to our shared apartment the next day. Honestly, I just wanted to pack my shit and leave. I was done with him.
Onto the next — that foolish Deji. Time was not on my side. Deadlines have a way of creeping up.
There was still so much work to be done.
I was only at victim 6.
Six men down, countless pages to go.
Not all the material was gold, but Michael? Michael definitely stood out. He gave me a lot to work with. He definitely brought the drama. Michael was the victim before Mide, who also happened to be a classic misogynist.
The idiot once claimed that it was fine for men to cheat because they don’t get emotionally attached, but that women couldn’t because “you guys are emotional beings.” I had to bite my tongue hard to prevent myself from cackling.
He’d go on and on saying, “You’re just lucky I’m not like all those other guys who cheat.” Meanwhile, he was in the comment section of different girls on Instagram, disgracing himself and not me. I would have been bothered if not that he meant absolutely nothing to me. He was just a number, a statistic, material.
He was also the perfect victim, honestly.
When he realised he had been played, he kept asking me how a woman could be this heartless.
I told him, “Well, according to you, men cheat because they’re bored. Me? I cheat because I’m curious.”
But that answer was not good enough for him. For someone who claimed women were the emotional ones, he sure had a lot of feelings when he found out I was cheating… with three different guys.
He got so angry that he swung to hit me. Oops. Lucky for him, he missed. I quickly reminded him that I could easily make sure he would die in jail and ruin his reputation as a popular startup founder if he tried that nonsense again.
The threat worked because, as far as Michael knew, I was a criminal lawyer. But that was my day job. He didn’t know what I spent the rest of my time doing.
Anyway, I told him I’d forgive him that once because I understood he was in an emotional state. Lmao. Men like Michael always forget that anger is an emotion.
He didn’t know it, but he may not even have made it to jail if he’d attacked me. I was carrying a pocket knife. Not because I wanted to write violence into this story, but because I’ve learned that sometimes, the characters fight back.
I digress.
Victim 7, AKA Deji, seems more observant than the previous ones. He has started asking why I keep a notebook in my purse, and why I suddenly jolt and rush to add something to my phone’s notes app.
But his suspicions are still at a minimum.
Oh well. It will be a rude awakening for him.
Like all the others, he thinks I’m in love, but I’m simply in character. Page after page, I’ve learned to play her well: the kind of woman who writes the script, not reads from it.
You’re still reading? Good.
Let’s call this… Part One. Part Two is already writing itself.
What in the cheating is this? 😭😂