The Worst Thing I Ever Did – and even still it’s probably not that bad

I am not trying to make any grand judgement here, I’m just telling you my experience. If you want to go ahead and feel judged, then be my guest. Seriously knock yourself out.


When it comes to cheating I only ever play one role.
The girl you cheat with.
Well, that’s as far as I know. I might have been cheated on by every beau I ever had, technically it’s possible but I think it improbable.

So I stand by the original statement. I only know it from one perspective. So it perplexes me. More so lately because I am more and more aware of just how often I am in that role.
Essentially I don’t understand it. Warning, I’m about to sound like an asshole, I don’t mean to but it’s just how I see things and have experienced things.

I don’t ever stay with someone if I’m not interested in them sexually. I have just the once stayed solely because the sex was so good. Ok, maybe twice but we’re talking a matter of weeks here, not months or years of wasting some poor guy’s time. I’ve never found the idea of getting caught a turn on, either with regard to having sex in public or with cheating on a partner. (I’ll happily have sex in public, not for the normal reasons but generally because I happen to desire that person so much I don’t care who sees it and as a consequence, knows it)

So that’s the start, I don’t get how it’s somehow supposed to be hotter, that is a factor that can be ruled out. I suppose I don’t like gambling either, which is the same thing, I don’t get any thrill from it, it ignites nothing for me. So I’m never going to cheat solely as a thrill seeking exercise.


The other thing I don’t understand about cheating is.. well, if you don’t fancy your partner why don’t you just break up with them? If you don’t want to fuck the life out of them, or worse, they don’t want to fuck the life out of you – then what’s (literally) the fucking point? Why are you with them, why are they with you …?

I’ll stop myself there because I do actually know the answer to this one, or at least I know the answer for quite a few people, it’s just not an answer for me.

I get it. Sometimes you love someone, so much it hurts but that person just isn’t sexually compatible with you. Or you have a fantasy that your partner isn’t interested in or a way higher sex drive – or whatever. I get it, the person you’re with is perfect, your life with them is perfect, they’re your best friend, they complete you etc. but just not quite perfectly, best friended, completed in the bedroom.

I know this, I appreciate this, I understand this.

I just don’t accept this as a reality for me.

I don’t accept this as a standard for me.  (Why yes, she says with a smirk, it is a very lovely view from up here on my high horse!)

Let me climb down a second.


I have once cheated. On someone who wholly didn’t deserve it and in the most brutal way. I am going to tell this as truthfully as I can, without trying to defend myself or my indefensible actions. But let’s just all agree that that’s always an exercise in futility so we’ll just have to accept it as best my memory (and my ever revisioning guilt) can re tell it.



We’re going to call him Luke, for that was absolutely not his name.

Luke was lovely and clever and creative and tall and attractive. If slightly lacking in full confidence, which I only discovered too late.

We did things the “right” way. Met, got my number, he called 3 days later and we had a date two days after that. We had drinks and one kiss.

Two more dates and we had sex. Adequate sex but not mind blowing. But god was he smart and funny and did I adore his company and I wanted, oh so badly to be right for this boy.

But I was not.

I am flighty and flirty and I know a lot of people. This does not make for good bedfellows with a boy who has used up all his confidence in getting my number and talking me into 3 dates. The mask started to slip.

Just before I met Luke I had been having dalliances with two beaus who would be best described as casual and coarsely, yet more accurately, described as ‘people I sometimes fucked’. Unfortunately these beaus both rang at 4am one Saturday night/Sunday morning. Rang repeatedly.

We were up, we had only left the club and in my drunken candour I foolishly, forthrightly explained fully.

I shouldn’t have done that.

You should never do that.

But what you should never do even more, is leave your phone unattended after you’ve done that.

He saw a name, he recognised a name. He now knew one of the beaus.


The name he saw was of a rival. Another Dj, another promoter, an acquaintance, not a friend. And that was probably the death knell of our relationship. From that second on any sense Luke had that I truly wanted to be with him waned with the passing nights out. He had always seemed incredulous, almost bemused at himself that I was with him something I never understood. But now it was in it’s infancy of something else, it was well clothed jealousy that was soon to be naked and barefaced and awful.

Nothing I said was ever believed. The more I tried to convince him that I wasn’t seeing anyone else the less he accepted it. The less he accepted it the less I liked him.

It was a vicious circle that turned into a self-fulfilling prophecy. It no longer mattered who I talked to, I wasn’t being true to him. Every mild flirtation was a slap in the face. Any interaction with The Rival was argued over for hours.

It was exhausting, it was relentless and at the same time it was subtle. We had lovely times, we had hours in each other’s company being delighted, we had good sex. For the most part.

But when we were out. That’s when it wasn’t ok. That’s when I liked him the least.

And even saying that I feel it’s unfair. He didn’t deserve me as I was then, so awful and hard to pin down. So non-committal yet demanding.

He was kind and funny and so very decent. And all he really did was try to love me.

I was having none of it.

So he tried a different tack, I have to believe that it was unconscious, that he wasn’t aware he was doing it but, do it he did.

He tried to take me down. To tell me I wasn’t great, that I wasn’t special, that I wasn’t all that I thought I was. Which is probably true but the rock of greatness that he tried to make me perish on? Was the onlywrong rock.

What was the rock I hear you say?

He told me that I wasn’t that good at sex. That in fact, my fellating skills were good but not as good as I thought they were.


I cannot articulate the rage and utter fury that this elicited in me. If he had chosen any other thing in my life I would have believed him and set about trying to please him and be better. But this? THIS? The only thing I was ever any good at in my life? The only thing that I was EVER sure of?


No I was not taking that lying down. I was not letting that pass. For I knew, without a shadow of a doubt that that was not true.

And worse, I knew how I would prove it to myself also.




The Rival. The casual acquaintance that had turned into a looming, ever ready nemesis by doing nothing other than having had a past with me. Well this Rival had a particular fondness for my mouth wrapped around his cock. He liked nothing more and had done unspeakably flattering things in the pursuit of that goal. When I politely ended it with him (to officially be with Luke) he said these magic words to me ‘I will dream of your mouth and what your tongue can do to my cock for the rest of my life. If you ever EVER need to be told, just ring, or text and I will remind you’

Little did I know that I ever would.




It’s Saturday morning, we’re in bed I can’t even remember if we’d had sex when Luke delivers his killer blow. He gets up, he has things to do, he is gone.

Oblivious to the storm he has induced.

Before the door downstairs slams I am dialling the rival.

‘Hey, you know that thing you love that I do? Do you want it now? Oh you do? Come round, I’m in bed now’



And I did it. I got on my knees and gave The Rival some fucking unbelievable head, all afternoon. I think I enjoyed it. But I was doing it for revenge, it was pure and utter malice and nothing else. I’m fairly sure I didn’t even have sex with him. Not that he cared.



I couldn’t believe I’d done it. Days later when I came down from the sweet and delicious high that is pure revenge being executed. I think I regretted it and there was an awful unshakeable knot in my stomach. But not caused by thinking I’d get caught, that never crossed my mind for a second. But caused by the torment in my head – I had to break up with Luke and yet … on paper, he just made so much sense. Didn’t he?

Shouldn’t I stay and try to make him happy?

Shouldn’t I stay and make it up to him – this transgression that he didn’t even know about?



Didn’t matter. His jealousy had fully undressed and was properly naked now. He was going through my phone. He was checking my texts.

There was none to The Rival, I’m too clever for that. But I wasn’t clever enough to delete the one text to the one person I had revealed myself to. Just a friend, not even the BFF (sure I told her in person) not someone I would normally have told so he was obviously going through the phone forensically.

And so he found the words:

Friend: How’s Luke

Me: Oh you know, cheated on with The Rival



I’d like to tell you that was the end of that but it wasn’t. It dragged out for months after. It wasn’t brutal but it was unpleasant and unnecessary.



He didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve me cheating on him with the one person he felt inferior to and the one person he always believed I would cheat with. It’s an awful thing to do, to take a person’s worst insecurity and make it whole. And I did that. Deliberately and on purpose and with malicious intent.

I am so very sorry for it.

It is the worst I have ever treated anyone. And to the person who deserved it the least.

I hardly recognised myself. That wasn’t me. Hurting people so intently wasn’t me. But it was, I did it. Usually I am a fantastic girlfriend, I’m loyal and faithful and wholly monogamous. When I’m done with you, I’m done with you. But when I’m with you? I am utterly yours and no one else’s not even for a second, not even for a flash. It’s naïve and it’s sanctimonious but it’s how I approach relationships – you’re either my potential everything or you’re soon to be my nothing.




I got no joy from cheating. I can’t see me ever doing it again. Not like that or in any other more conventional sense. But I’m not perfect and I wanted to point out that I have made some awful mistakes with people’s hearts.

I’m pretty sure I haven’t since.

I’m pretty sure I’m more careful with them these days.


Right, back up on my horse, and off I clop. The view really is great.

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