I have never gone out with anyone who cheated on me (to the best of my knowledge). Like most other people, I tend to think that cheaters are the scum of the Earth and that they should be ostracized from society to sufficiently pay for the way they deeply hurt their partners by doing something so stupid.

However, if I give it some thought that’s more in-depth, I realize it’s not even close to that simple.

I’ve never cheated, no, but I’ve come damn close. Close enough so that if I was my boyfriend, I’d be really, really upset with me. I could make excuses all day—I didn’t realize what I had, my priorities weren’t straight, I was selfish, I was stupid… but at the end of the day, I still came pretty close.

There’s got to be something—some kind of line—that separates me, the almost-cheater, from someone else who actually has cheated. I don’t think I’m speaking ignorantly when I say that most cheaters regret their actions and feel bad about them.

But this post isn’t about why they do it—it’s about whether cheating is ever excusable. Read More »