What is it with women these days? I’m seriously at the end of my rope. I mean, you treat a woman to dinner at a fancy restaurant three towns over, and by the end of the night, she’s either telling you you’re the greatest thing ever or she’s dumping a bouquet of flowers over your head. And as for which response you get, well, that’s anybody’s guess. So tell me, are all women nuts, or just the ones I cheat on my wife with?
Maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m just magically attracted to headcases. Then again, how can that be when I cheat on my wife with women of all stripes? I meet them everywhere: work, the gym, coffee shops, bookstores, parties, movies, museums, restaurants, my son’s daycare, and so on. Yet whether they’re rich or poor, young or very young, the pattern is always the same: After we have illicit, adulterous sex a few times, they start going batshit on me.
Case in point. A few months ago, I was shopping at Circuit City for a new Palm Pilot, and I met this great-looking woman: real stylish, late 20s, great body, the works. She was an executive for a record company, so I figured she must have her shit together, right? Wrong. We go out a few times, and then she starts grilling me: “Why don’t you ever take me to your house?” “Whose picture is that in your wallet?” “What do you mean you’re married?” We get into a screaming match, she tells me to get the hell out of her apartment, and then she won’t return my calls. I don’t get it. We were two consenting adults having a great time together, then she suddenly had to go and turn into a raving lunatic!
I’ve been with enough women on the side to know that no matter how good the sex is, they’re eventually gonna go loon-tunes. Sometimes, that takes the form of them hitting me. Other times, it’s them screaming about how the relationship can’t go anywhere. How wacko is that? We’ve only been together a few weeks (plus, I’m married), and they’re looking for a commitment! Break out the straitjacket, we’re going to the funny farm!
It’s not like I’m dishonest with these ladies about my free-wheeling lifestyle. I usually tell them right upfront the fifth night we spend at the motel off Hwy. 18. And I’m good to them, too. I’ll buy them candies and magazines, and shower them with compliments. Still, no matter how sweetly I say, “You are so much sexier than my wife,” they just flip out.
Do they even realize the effort I put into these relationships? When you’ve got a wife and kids and job, squeezing in an hour for a mistress involves some heavy-duty schedule shuffling, but do I get points for that? Nope, just an earful of cuss words from a crazed harpy. Geez!
I’m not going to give up on other women just yet, but is it too much to ask for one that isn’t completely bananas? Out of the billions of women on this planet, at least one of them has to be sane, right? There must be a woman I can casually sleep around with who won’t go postal just because taking my son to hockey practice made me late for a secret rendezvous.
I know I sound totally jaded, but I’m really not. The truth is, even through all of my relationship troubles, I’m still a hopeless romantic. At the moment, I can’t stop thinking about a cute little number I met at the mall last Saturday. She’s gorgeous, but she really seems quiet and laid back—the kind of gal who won’t lose her shit. But no matter how well things go with her, I’ll remain on my guard. You know what they say: It’s the quiet ones who always go the craziest when you’re fucking them behind your wife’s back.
