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Why I Cheat: Men, Marriage, and Cheating PDF

367 Pages·2014·1.32 MB·English
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WHY I CHEAT Men, Marriage, and Cheating Copyright © 2014, 2015 Tim Patten. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. iUniverse 1663 Liberty Drive Bloomington, IN 47403 www.iuniverse.com 1-800-Authors (1-800-288-4677) Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them. Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only. Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock. ISBN: 978-1-4917-2449-1 (sc) ISBN: 978-1-4917-2451-4 (hc) ISBN: 978-1-4917-2450-7 (e) Library of Congress Control Number: 2014903020 iUniverse rev. date: 01/29/2015 Contents Introduction Disclaimer 1: Why I Cheat 2: Shelly’s Love Dream 3: Painful Love 4: I Am Committed 5: Brotherhood Code Destroyed 6: A Man in Love 7: Facebook Secrets 8: Shame on You 9: I Want a Family 10: Monogamy Sucks 11: Lady Derringer’s Sex Epilogue The Full Manifesto of the Authentic Male Footnote References Introduction I wrote this book to empower men about lust, romance, and love for women. Inside are eleven real life cautionary tales of mind-games and dangers (legal, financial, and emotional) that lay hidden ahead when men become involved with women. These eleven stories, from real and loving couples, can help men make quality decisions and experience freedom, happiness, and success. In 2006, a men’s movement began in Japan. It has spread all across the world, and millions of men are learning a new way to navigate the modern relationship, dating, and marriage scenes. Mistakenly called a “rage against women” and “misogynistic”, these men are actually discovering freedom, fulfillment of dreams, sex, and love, as they dodge proverbial bullets and tunnel under razor wire. In generations past, most people claimed marriage would bring them great happiness. But today this claim is seen as a huge hoax, a complete lie. Women fill half of the working jobs, and old roles of protector/provider have been blurred. Evolving economies and attitudes towards men have changed countless laws. All these changing initiatives place men inside a new paradigm. It’s time to embrace new ideas about romance and family, to acknowledge that we have seen the end of “traditional” marriage as society’s highest ideal. At its core, this book is not so much about cheating or marriage as it is about FREEDOM: the freedom to be masculine, to live with honesty and integrity. Prepare yourself for an entertaining, and sometimes tension-filled, journey that can make life happy and successful. Here is to freedom! Disclaimer T his book doesn’t claim to represent a complete understanding of all people. Men and women can both be totally rational and mutually supportive. In real life, there exist many sides of a person’s character. Some relationships are loving and nurturing. These stories represent a bias, by the author’s own admission. The official hook-up guide for men, that concludes these chapters, is full of referenced facts, making it an easy to use self-help guide. Many of these stories are reports of real couples in crisis counseling. The characters come from actual people who have been fictionalized in order to protect their true identities. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents have been changed in order to guard people’s private lives. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. ∞∞∞∞ Chapter 1 Why I Cheat R ussell Carson could be described as fun, but deep. He was a very small man, but his mind contained immense thoughts. Great thoughts. He understood that women liked tall, strong men. With his will, revved up like an engine inside a sickly body, he sought to understand sex: not the sex act, but what simmers beneath. Short and waifish, he spent years poring over books in libraries and conducting research on the Internet, weakening his eyes. The purpose of his study was to understand and, in turn, to explain to others the nature of masculinity and male lust. Sex was always on his mind. His goal was to unravel the mystery of sexual desire and the hidden forces within it. He hoped and prayed that he would be able to explain his sexual urges to his wife, using science and logic. If only he could summon the bravery to approach the topic. He knew that for this courage to shine, he and his dick would have to stay masked in public, like Batman, at least for now. For three years, Russell plotted his weekly biorhythms and inner urges against the phases of the moon. Graphs and calendars hung over his desk at home. He charted his levels of lust and sex-activities, day by day. He amassed a huge amount of data, then began analyzing his findings. Every day, he dwelled upon this matter, even while working full-time at the US Census Bureau in San Antonio, where he used the tools at his disposal to process his data. Einstein said that if you can’t explain something simply and clearly, it means you don’t understand it well enough. Before Russell could present his findings to his wife, and then to the world, he wanted to be sure he understood the root of the problem. As a qualified mechanical engineer, with a firm grasp on statistics, he foresaw his wife’s reaction to his honest announcement. Russell who the hell do you think you are? Doctor Fuckinstein? Do you think you’re Masters and Johnsons, or have you been masturbating your Johnson. Gee, Beth, it’s just a theory. He would sheepishly go back to his research. I just know I can pull it of; you couldn’t pull yourself off! Russell’s limbs tingled with the knowledge that the day would come when he’d explain his theory. His heart pounded at the thought of lugging his truth out of the closet for the public. Perhaps a man who didn’t love his wife would feel no qualms about lying to her, but dishonesty taxed Russell deeply. He knew lying was wrong, so he obsessed about his secrets and longed to release these dark and hidden ghosts into the daylight. One day he would seize the courage to confront this problem. Until then he would have to disguise his actual sex fantasy from Beth. Albert Einstein sometimes appeared to Russell, asking, “How on earth are you ever going to explain to her, in terms of chemistry and physics, the biological phenomenon that is lust?” He waited for Einstein to return an answer. He also wanted to know why the brain-of-the-century was nicknamed “der Depperte”, and why he had such a bad haircut. Russell struggled to come up with profound answers. True, Einstein had pondered love more than lust, but where was the line dividing the two? Had Einstein kept his discoveries to himself? Did his great mind withhold the truth? Love is difficult to define, and Russell’s determination drove him to dig deeper. How does one avoid the confusion of love with that of infatuation or lust? For years, philosophers and poets had attempted to discover what love is. From the apostle Paul to the Beatles, everyone has had a theory. If all you need is love, why is it that sometimes all you want is lust? Is love really all you need? Russell wondered. Is any verb used more often and less specifically? Is the love one feels for sushi the same, qualitatively speaking, as the love one feels for Mother Nature? He thought if love and lust were always the same side of the same coin, it would make a terrible mess of the sushi. Which part of man’s body is involved during lovemaking—the heart or the dick? When we refer to the prowess of the Latin Lover, do we praise his ability to serenade the object of his affection and recite poetry to her? Or do we admire the passion and stamina he brings to a sweaty fuckfest? Love is giving someone the power to break your heart, and trusting him or her not to break it. Love means never having to say you’re sorry. Oh, really? Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. Really? Russell never wanted Beth’s love to end. He was beginning to feel as if this word was the number one condiment of the English vocabulary: the sauce you could splash on any dish. It’s just that he desired to splash his condiment on many dishes. Lately, Russell had been having a recurring dream about his current lover. In the dream, she always said, “I love you, Russell.” “I love you, too.” Russell’s eyes surveyed the ceiling. “And I love that you tell me about all the other women you fuck.” She touched his leg, walking her fingers up his thigh and making his dick grow hard. “Want to hear more?” he asked, placing both hands on his chest. “Tell me about fucking in the back of that abandoned car. That turns me on.” She leaned into him, her hand cupping his manhood, her lips pressing against his hands. The sexual intensity increased to a level he almost couldn’t bear. That was always when Russell woke up, feeling warm and fuzzy with memories of the sex dream. He enjoyed these nocturnal forays. By day Russell was a dorky Clark Kent, but in his dreams he was SuperFuckMan, from Planet HardOn. Living a life of harmony, it had been three years since Russell and Beth had tied the proverbial knot. Beth’s olive skin and willowy body, and her high- octane personality, entranced Russell. Beth was so full of spunk and energy. When she was young, her mother had dubbed her “Spitfire”, a nickname that encapsulated everything about her that Russell adored. The last thing he wanted to do was to make her unhappy. He couldn’t stand the idea of causing anyone pain, but could he stay mentally healthy while this secret about his real person thrashed inside his brain? Russell hated his scrawny build, which always made a bad first impression on women. As his physical appearance prevented him from playing the knight in shining armor, he instead resorted to playing the joker. He would do everything in his power to make women laugh. Russell had developed a thick skin to shield him from the pain of the many rejections he encountered. But underneath it all, he still felt deeply insecure about his slight frame. He looked more like a fourteen-year-old boy than a grown adult. And the 40-year-old men who were into 14-year-olds weren’t exactly his type. All day long, in his office in the Transit Tower Building, Russell perched in front of a computer with his legs twisted into a pretzel. Over the years, he’d developed a small hunchback. To add insult to injury, Mother Nature—heartless bitch that she was—had afflicted him with a condition that caused pasty white patches to crop up all over his skin. Every day, he covered them up with a turtleneck sweater and long sleeves. And it was Russell, the blotchy-skinned Hunchback de San Antonio who bravely decided to take a stand for all men. In terms of good catches, Russell would have been thrown back by a starving fisherwoman. Even so, it was time for him to take a heroic stand - a stand that might wreck his harmonious life with Beth forever. Perhaps it was because Russell felt like such a loner and outsider that he was called upon to be understood, to have others acknowledge his inner sex struggle. He might have been shortchanged when it came to genetics and social skills, but those losses would eventually lead to a gain for all of mankind. The one thing Russell had, that so many of his male counterparts lacked, was determination. And with this essence—some might even call it gallantry—he had enough purpose to take action and succeed. Four years before, Russell had joined a gym in his adopted hometown San Antonio. The conservative Texan men viewed him with suspicion. In the locker room and the weight lifting area, Russell felt like an oddball, that the others thought he was gay. He assumed those rednecks spelled gay Y-O-G-A. But eventually, he stopped going to the gym and enrolled in a private class. It didn’t hurt that the art of ashtanga yoga was taught by a slender, svelte beauty named Beth Waymen.

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According to some sources, women complain at their men roughly eight thousand minutes every single year. That means some men tolerate eleven hours of abuse every month-and it's often waged by women who are manipulative, violent, and vindictive. They make life a living nightmare for their men, but no
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Most books are stored in the elastic cloud where traffic is expensive. For this reason, we have a limit on daily download.