The Dithering of a District Diva

I thought about approaching this topic delicately, with compassion and understanding…and then I looked up at the title and image I’d chosen for this blog post and realized that there’s no nice way to say cheating is not o.k. Please note that I am not a scorned woman; to my knowledge, I have never been cheated on (and discovering that some past boyfriend had cheated on me would really mean nothing to me at this point), and my father and uncles are the most honorable men I know, so this is not at all an emotional issue for me. It’s just an issue I completely don’t understand.

Its on my mind at the moment because no matter what I do, I just cannot escape the media’s obsession with Tiger Woods–even though my job requires me to watch what is supposed to be news. I won’t comment on Tiger. I just don’t care enough. But not for the same reasons I am seeing on blogs and Twitter: “everybody cheats, what’s the big deal?” “So what, he cheated, big surprise.” “She knew what she was getting into when she married an athlete.” Um…WHAT?

I do not understand the mindset of a cheater at all, but I have some idea that the justification process that arises in a cheater’s mind begins with hearing society say that cheating is something that is expected, not that serious, and universal (unless, of course, you’re a politician or celebrity. Then it’s the scandal of scandals).

How did we get here? Where did we go so morally wrong as a society to start thinking it is too much to ask for someone to simply respect the person they have willingly chosen to commit to by keeping their hands and body parts to themselves? And moreover, when did we stop respecting ourselves enough to care about what a betrayal does to our own moral character? (That goes for cheaters and the cheats who cheat with them).

This is not an issue of religion or “don’t do it because God says its wrong” (though it is wrong, and He does say that). Morality is neither religious nor a manifestation of guilt. It is simply the consideration—the awareness–-of the impact that you have on another person’s life to just leave a relationship you are in if you are unhappy in it, instead of cheating. Or, if you aren’t ready to leave, to be adult enough to have the uncomfortable adult conversation—with the partner you willingly committed to—that things aren’t going well, and then make every attempt to fix it as a team. And most of all, to have enough self-respect to want to be able to look at yourself in the mirror and know that you are an honest, loyal, trustworthy person, and no one can truthfully refute that.

But I won’t stand on a corner holding a picture of a dead cheater while damning all the cheaters to a hell I don’t control. I can’t, in good conscious, do that. For one, that would just be amazingly insane and a total mismanagement of time. But, for two, maybe I understand a cheater’s mindset better than I care to believe.

Although I would consider myself an honest, loyal, trustworthy person, it would be disingenuous to say that I haven’t lied, been disloyal, or untrustworthy. After all, I can’t trust myself to do the simple task of waking up at 6:00 AM to meditate or be to work 30 minutes early, or go to sleep by 11 P.M. like I’d planned. And thinking on those things made me concentrate on all the ways I cheat on myself (something much more meaningful to me than mishaps in Tiger’s woods).

It’s been weeks since I declared that I would no longer date until I passed the bar–partially as a motivator, but mostly as a way to restore my good common sense. Yet, if I’ve cracked a book more than once I’ll eat you. Sometimes I am just being lazy, sometimes I am exhausted from a long work day, sometimes I am so content with my life and my career that I just don’t see the point. Fine, I don’t want to practice law. But isn’t passing the bar just something I owe to myself? To prove to myself that I can be disciplined enough and determined enough to sit down and finish what I started? Aren’t I doing a disservice to the legal community by depriving them of my legal genius? Aren’t I doing a disservice to myself every time I don’t live up to my potential? Aren’t I cheating on God when I am not who He made me to be? And why don’t I care enough to stop it?

I believe it is because at times on a subconscious level I don’t believe that I deserve good things.

I deserve good things. That is a statement I used to say flippantly or jokingly with friends when discussing my inherent fabulosity. But there was insincerity in it. There was at least doubt in it. But I do deserve good things. I deserve good things. I deserve good things. I deserve good things.

So now we know that a cheater is just a lost soul who doesn’t believe she deserves good things. And now the cheater has a choice: she can either (1) continue believing she isn’t worth it and thus self-destruct; or (2) start believing that she deserves good things and not settle for anything less from herself; she can be motivated and she can care enough when she falls short to be remorseful and change it.

Likewise, the partner of the cheater has choices: (1) she can believe she isn’t worth it, herself, and continue a relationship with the cheat who is also satisfied with being less; (2) she can choose to want more and walk away from the cheat irrespective of the cheat’s self-discovery; or (3) she can believe she is worth it, too, forgive the cheat’s waywardness, respect the cheat’s decision not to settle for less, and she and the cheat can challenge each other to wake up every day striving to do better.

I can’t control my relationships with other people. I can’t control the choices others make that impact my life. To a control freak, this is one of the greater travesties that could ever be. But in a control freak’s mind, there is solace in knowing that the relationship I have with myself is putty in my hands.

So, come here, you wayward cheat. I still love you. I still think you are worth it. I won’t let you settle for less. We will wake-up tomorrow and strive to do better simply because we can. And we must. Our self-respect depends on it.

(But between me and you, Elin, girl, take the money and run!)

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