Once a cheater, maybe a cheater

I remember the day when I finally understood that his affair wasn't my failing, it was his. If I'd been a cartoon, there would have been lightbulb over my head. 
And it was at that moment that the grip of loathing I felt for my husband – but which was really at myself – loosened a bit. 
If it really wasn't my fault that my husband cheated, then maybe it wasn't my fault that my mother chose alcohol over me. Maybe it wasn't my fault that my father chose self-pity over me. 
Maybe the only person who ever had to truly choose me was me. 
It was a radical thought for someone who believed her value lay only in who she could be for other people. What if, my thought process went, I gave myself permission to be myself? Flawed. Not the greatest, or the worst. Somewhere in the middle.
It felt terrifying. 
But if I allowed myself that freedom, could I – dare I – allow my husband the same latitude to be neither the greatest nor the worst? In the middle.  A guy who'd made a colossal mistake but wasn't a monster.

I wrote that in 2015. I was reminded of it when I recently stumbled across yet another person espousing the "once a cheater, always a cheater" narrative. It's a seductive motto. There's appeal in such a black-and-white view. And like most catchy maxims, there's enough truth in it to keep it alive. Lots of guys, given a second chance, completely blow it. They reveal themselves to be unworthy of our loyalty. But beneath that pithy phrase is a worldview that gets in our way. Between that black and that white is where most of us – yes us, not just our unfaithful spouses – live our lives. 
Which is not to say that women can't toss out a cheater. I've been piled on enough for being an "affair apologist" to make me wary. We don't owe anybody anything other than our own honesty. If a guy has cheated on you and you want to wash your hands of him, get out the soap and scrub. 
But do it because of what he did, not out of some calculus about what he might do. It's the might part that ties us in knots. It's the might part that takes us out of the now and moves us into the arena of the unknown. And that arena is terrifying because pretty much anything can happen there. 
It's there, in the arena of the unknown, where we paralyze ourselves with hypotheticals. You know what I'm talking about right? We're going along, relatively okay for someone who's discovered a partner's betrayal, when the "might" intrudes. He might be with her right now. They might be planning to run away together. She might be pregnant. No matter that there's no evidence of any of this (unless there is, in which case it's not a "might", it's an "is"). Our stomach is in knots, our blood pressure has skyrocketed and we're pretty sure we're going to throw up. And all because we've been led into the arena of the unknown by an intrusive "might". 
This is what the "once a cheater" narrative promises to rescue us from. We don't need to trouble ourselves with the arena of the unknown if we've already dumped the guy, right? Far better, this thinking goes, to just get rid of the guy – after all, if he's cheated, he's going to cheat again so it's just a matter of time before our heart is, again, shattered – and move into some certain future where cheaters have been dealt with and summarily dismissed.
And again, that's exactly what we should do with some cheaters. But (ugh, I hate myself for saying this because I sound like a white man), not all cheaters. Not all cheaters will cheat again. There are legions of men (and women) who regret their actions and have used it to become better people. We don't owe them our forgiveness. But I, for one, am glad that I believe in second chances. Not only for him but for me too. There has been freedom in learning to forgive. What's more, it has taught me to forgive myself.
Life isn't certain. It never was, even when I was certain my husband would never cheat. You probably were certain too. And we both know how that turned out. Betrayal stripped me of the illusion of certainty. But once a cheater, always a cheater, is, frankly, bullshit. It's a cynical promise to vulnerable people. It offers certainty in a world where certainty is an illusion. It's a world view that defines all of us by the worst mistake we make. 
Each of us is accountable for his actions, including cheaters. And anyone who cheats but finds ways to blame-shift or minimize or gaslight is telling you that he has zero interest in your pain or in cleaning up his own side of the street. Toxic people should be excised from our lives.
But be wary of any catchphrase that purports that life is tidy and that pretends to have a crystal ball. 


Want to join us for My Heartbreak, My Rules, My Healing – a weekend together with the Betrayed Wives Club? Click here for details.