...and just like that, I lost my head.

Cheating. It's one of those things that carries such a huge stigma, and deservedly so. But it's also one of the most universal experiences in the world. Cheating and betrayal, which someone told me recently was "the one experience everyone can relate to." Now, before you try and talk me off a ledge, this isn't something that I'm particularly affected by right now, but it's just been cropping up in a few conversations lately and I've been thinking about it. I've been on every end of it; I've been cheated on, repeatedly. I cheated on my boyfriend, in retaliation for his infidelity (not the most mature response). I've been the girl that guys cheat on their girlfriends with. That one's the worst. Besides the self-loathing that comes with the package, you've got to worry about the other person finding out and punching you in the face. But sometimes the temptation is irresistible.
A few years ago, I was in a pretty unhealthy relationship. It was fun for a while, and then it was work, but I didn't want to give up because I was not that person. I was not the person who got invested in something and then just walked away, even when I knew it was the best thing for both of us. I think on some level neither one of us wanted to let the other down, and that's why it lasted for a year and a half longer than it should have. He wanted to be the boyfriend he thought I needed, and I wanted to change him so that he didn't end up dead in 5 years from an overdose or alcohol poisoning. Eventually, instead of deciding that it would be a good idea for us to go our separate ways, we moved in together. Millions of complications later, I found out that he'd cheated on me. And I proceeded to have a months-long affair with someone I worked with.
It wasn't just the thrill of knowing we could get caught at any point that kept it going. It was the basic idea that neither of us were getting what we wanted or needed out of our respective relationships, and while we did not want to be together in any real sense we also didn't want to risk being alone again. (unrelated: just found a sesame seed on my knee. can't remember the last time there was something with sesame seeds in my kitchen, and apparently I need to clean my cupboards.) I don't regret it. I regretted it when his girlfriend found out, I regretted it when I had to work with her almost every day for another month, and I probably felt bad for her for a little while. Not as bad as if she hadn't told me about the guys she'd been fucking for the past year of their relationship, but I did feel bad. We weren't friends, but we had a cordial relationship that worked smoothly. What I mean is that it was something that really did help me grow, and made me realize that I needed to be alone for a while. I had to get over that fear of not coming home to someone, or having someone to balance out the crazy in me when I get a wild idea. And I put up with a hell of a lot less now, which is also significant. Of course, I haven't really been in a relationship since that last boyfriend, which was almost 2 years ago now. I'm a little worried that I might finally understand too much about people, that really being happy with someone else is incredibly rare and complicated and hard to sustain. But I think I'm finally willing to try.
Edit: here's an article from today's New York Times about how marriages in the US are stronger than you'd think.