This weekend, a person whom I know attempted suicide and was almost successful. My head spun and my heart thudded heavily in my chest as I listened to the news from the hospital. Compounding the horror of the situation was the apparent motive behind this person’s breakdown (I’ll call them “K” from here on): the unanticipated dissolution of a passionate love affair they were conducting behind their spouse’s back. It was hard to believe. After all, I had spent time with K and K’s spouse, and they seemed so happy, so well-suited for one another. They had shared my sofa only recently, sipping sangria and nuzzling one another affectionately. How could such a thing be possible? Somehow, the news of the affair made it so much more disturbing than if K had been morbidly depressed, or had been fired from work or something. My sorrow is indigestible, the pit of a bitter peach sitting in the basement level of my gut.

This weekend’s event recalled to me a conversation I had with a friend last week about why people cheat. It is commonly suggested that men and women are unfaithful for different reasons; men cheat to enjoy a little sexual variety, and women cheat for some sort of emotional rush they aren’t getting from their partners. I cannot testify to the validity of either theory, but I do have one of my own, and it might apply to both men and women. (more…)