If it's Tuesday, that must mean there's another electryifying installment of the Diabolical Demystifying Divas and the Munificent yet Magnificent Men's Club.

Today's topic as we've begun calling it in chats amongst ourselves: Ring-Ring.

Ahem

Mike: So how long do I wait to call?

Trent: A day.

Mike: Tomorrow.

Sue: Tomorrow, then a day.

Trent: Yeah.

Mike: So two days?

Trent: Yeah, I guess you could call it that, two days.

Sue: Definitely, two days is like industry standard.

Trent: You know I used to wait two days to call anybody, but now it's like everyone in town waits two days. So I think three days is kind of money. What do you think?

Sue: Yeah, but two's enough not to look anxious.

Trent: But I think three days is kind of money. You know because you...

Mike: Yeah, but you know what, mabey I'll wait 3 weeks. How's that? And tell her I was cleaning out my wallet and I just happened to run into her number.

Charles: Then ask her where you met her.

Mike: Yeah, I'll ask her where I met her. I don't remember. What does she look like? And then I'll asked if we fucked. Is that... would that be... T, would that be the money?

Trent: You know what. Ha ha ha Mike, laugh all you want but if you call too soon you might scare off a nice baby who's ready to party.

Mike: Well how long are you guys gonna wait to call your babies?

Trent, Sue{unison}: Six days.

----Swingers which is a Cake Eater Approved Movie.

Do you honestly think Alexander Graham Bell had any idea of what he was about to unleash upon the world when he told Mr. Watson to "Come here"? Do you think good ol' Alexander could have possibly imagined how much freakin' angst his invention would cause billions of people, wondering when the object of their heart's desire would actually manage to let their fingers do the walking? I can't think that he knew. He probably thought that, gee whiz, here's this nifty invention and the whole world will soon be able to communicate with it! Think of all the problems this will solve! Wow. Wars could be averted because people could communicate directly! All the evils of society could be at an end because people will actually be able to talk to one another! This is neato!

I have to think the man's up in heaven and is a bit disillusioned at how trivial his invention has become. It's probably the same for the guys who came up with the Internet and the World Wide Web: another fantastic communications tool and what do people do with it? They have cybersex.

But, as usual, I digress.

Now, Mike in Swingers had a bit of a dilemma on his hands: when to call his "beautiful baby" so that he didn't come off as either too needy and anxious or, conversely, appear to be disinterested. He was searching for the Goldilockian Solution (TM): the one that was just right.

Sadly, he turned to Trent and the boy named "Sue" for this solution, which was not only a mistake because they're idiots, but also because they shot for the male solution to most problems: if you can quantify it, you can solve it, as if finding the key to a woman's heart was an algebra problem. Unfortunately, there is just no quantifying when a man should call a woman. It's a roll of the dice: no matter what he does he could come off as badly as Mike did when he kept calling Nikki. (I still cringe whenever I see that scene.) Or he could come off as well as he did with Heather Graham's character. You never know.

But I suppose this is something you already knew, right? You're probably getting a wee bit grouchy that I'm not "demystifying" this particular issue for you. Well, ok. I haven't handed out my number in quite some time, but here were my rules for what was and wasn't acceptable. If, for some unknown reason, there is a chick out there who reminds you of me, well, here are your guidelines.

Ahem. {Insert Kath blowing the dust off this particularly ancient scroll here}

Kath's Rules of The Ring

1. The guy is the one who calls. Always. You will never, ever, never ever catch me asking a guy for his number. Not. Going. To. Happen. He should never expect me to call him untill a month after we've been seeing each other exclusively. I chalk this up to being somewhat "old fashioned." Other people might chalk it up to me being a big, fat chicken. Toss of the coin. Ahem. Bygones.

2. One day is enough time to have passed for moi since the original meeting/handing over of the phone number. And by this I mean twenty-four hours should have passed. Call before then and you're a goner.

I am, at this point, not expecting you to call at all. The handover of my number does not constitute any such agreement between the two of us. There is no contract in place. As such, I will be slightly disappointed if you don't call, but hey, I realize there is such a thing as beer goggles, and if I was on the receiving end of yours, well, I don't honestly want to know about it. Ahem. Bygones.

3. When/if you call, please learn how to converse. Nothing annoys quite as much as dead air. Neither should you eat while you're on the phone with me. Bleech.

4. After we have set up a time and place for a meeting, if, for some reason, things did not go well on our date, and you told me at the end of it that, "You'd call me" and yet did not call, realize I will not be pleased. It's pretty simple stuff: don't say you're going to call if you're not going to call. Don't think you're "being nice" by lying. Women do not, on the whole, appreciate fibbers. If you say you're going to do something, do it. If not, expect me to badmouth you to all of my particularly mouthy friends to the extent that you won't get any for quite some time. Actions do, indeed, have consequences, or didn't your mother teach you that?

Pretty simple stuff. The original handover means very little in the scheme of things: it's what you do afterwards that counts. Each and every woman does have a Goldilockian Solution to her: you're just going to have to deduce what you think will work and avoid what won't. It's the clever boy who wins the prize.

Now run along and see what the other Diabolical Demystifying Divas have to say about this topic, and while you're at it, you can also see what advice and consolation the Munificent yet Magnificent Men's Club has provided.

You should also note that our Daring Diva is scheduled for Divas Sez on Friday. Get your questions into the inbox---which you can find by clicking on the button on the right sidebar---by Thursday evening, by which time she should be done with finals and drunk enough that she'll come up with some seriously good answers.

January 10, 2008 ADDENDUM: Women! Seriously! Stop Googling for the answers to your problems!

You see, I have this thing called a "referral log" and I check it occasionally to see who's coming to this site and what they're reading whilst they're here. For some strange reason, an inordinate number of people Google into this site using the search phrase "Why Hasn't He Called?" Seriously. I get at least ten hits a day to this freakin' post, which I wrote two and a half years ago. I realize that life is a mystifying thing and that the urge to find the answers to it is overwhelming. But you need to realize that when you Google for said answers, well, you look like an idiot.

You're bright young things, I'm sure. You obviously know how to use a computer and a search engine. Most of you use correct spelling and punctuation in your queries, too. This tells me that you all have potential. So listen up: STOP WASTING YOUR TIME ON MEN WHO DON'T CALL YOU!

Furthermore, stop Googling for the answers to all your problems, ok? You look a bit desperate when you do this. I sit here and wonder if there's an epidemic of rude men, or if it's just a group of women who want answers---and who go looking for them. YOU SHOULD HAVE BETTER THINGS TO DO THAT SIT AROUND AND WAIT FOR SOME JERK WITH BAD MANNERS TO CALL YOU. Go out, get a degree and make more money than some man can make and take care of yourself. Don't take that kind of crap from ANY man. You're better than that. Go out and live up to your potential, for chrissakes. Life is extremely short. Don't waste your time on some random dude you met in a bar and to whom you gave your number. In fact, DON'T give out your number unless you're fairly certain the guy is a gentleman who will treat you right.

And, most of all, stop Googling in here wondering why he hasn't called.

Posted by: Kathy at 02:01 AM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
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Silk has the answers to all your important questions.

Sadie is up for next week. Get your questions in so our Daring Diva may enlighten you. Clicket on baby got back girl on the right and ask away!

Posted by: Kathy at 07:04 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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It seems I'm forever having to remind you people of this, but here goes anyway...

We need QUESTIONS for our lovely Sassy Diva to answer on Friday. Clicket on the Demystifying Divas button on the right, and fill up the email prompt with a question.

Get them into the box by tomorrow, 6pm GMT, so our beyoooootiful English Diva can have a whack at answering them.

Posted by: Kathy at 11:43 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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Another Tuesday, another set of truly fabulous Demystifying Divas posts.

The topic we've chosen for ourselves this week is pretty basic: the differences between men and women when they get ready to go in the morning. Talk about taking the differences between the sexes right down to base level. Heh. Should be interesting, no?

As most of you, my devoted Cake Eater Readers, will know, the husband and I have been married for ten years. We've lived together for a little bit longer than that. (Yeah, I know. Our bad.) During that time, we've lived in (counting on fingers) seven different apartments. Only two of which had big bathrooms, where we could both move around and get ready simultaneously. The apartment we live in now is most assuredly not one of these apartments. The bathroom here is the size of a postage stamp. If the bathroom door is shut, it's a crapshoot to open it: you might, quite literally, knock your spouse into unconsciousness. Whenever we see large bathrooms in our friends' houses or in a showcase, our envy erupts, like goosebumps on a Muscovite hooker in January. We both start lusting for a larger vanity, a huge bathtub, a bigger shower, and in the husband's case, a separate room for the toity. Some people have this response when it comes to kitchens, and we are not immune from that, either, but the bathroom is where it is at for us.

The reason for this envy is not only size-related, but also because I'm a slob and the husband is a neat freak who's constantly having to rein in the OCD. He wants a bigger bathroom so that he isn't forced to deal with my slovenly habits and somehow a double vanity will solve this problem, even though he hasn't listed out exactly how it will do so; he's just confident that it will. I want a bigger bathroom so I have more places to stash my excessive pile of appearance-related shit. In our current space, I have claimed the top of the counter, the space under the sink (the Q-tips reside there, so technically we're sharing), the bathroom cabinet (again, technically speaking, we're sharing because his shaving kit resides there), one side of the medicine cabinet and the top of the toity. The husband, God love him, gets one side of the medicine cabinet. But what's surprising is that's all he needs.

Now, given my need for extra space, you'd think I was someone who spent an excessive amount of time getting ready to go in the morning, wouldn't you? Well, I don't. Generally speaking, I can be in and out of the shower, hair done (well, it's a sopping wet mess, but I don't blow dry every day because it's bad for your hair, so it's as done as it's going to get unless I have a meeting and actually have to do it up), dressed, with minimal makeup in forty minutes or so. Pretty good for a chick, no? The husband, well, he does take less time to get ready, but that's because he doesn't wear makeup and never has to deal with a mascara wand that's bound and determined to spread black goo onto your face instead of your lashes. He just stands around in the shower, wondering about the world. I am seriously thankful we've never had to pay a water bill.

Fortunately for us, we do not have jobs that require us to leave the house every morning. We pretty much stay in our pajamas for as long as we can stand it. Then one of us will hop in the shower and the bathroom is our domain for that period of time. Working from home has saved us from many o' a fight about hogging the bathroom. The problems arise when we leave the house together, and I have to be fully made up with hair done.

The poor husband. It takes me a while to put on the full war paint. That means a couple of extra coats of mascara, eyeliner, and eyeshadow. That means full foundation and powder. That means the whole meal deal when it comes to lip liner and lipstick. And blush. We can't forget about the blush. Of course, while all of this is going on, I'm also running around trying to figure out what I'm going to wear and doing my hair. This takes, all told, about an hour and fifteen minutes. And I always think it's going to take less time than it does, hence the husband just stands there in the hallway, glowering, waiting for me to get my crap together, asking me every few minutes, "Are you ready to go yet?" To which I reply: "Yeah, just give me a second," because even if it's not going to take a just a second, and I know this, I have hope that maybe, just maybe, I'll be able to pull it together so he won't be annoyed with me.

Then I'll remember I have to switch out my handbag, so it matches my shoes and the ensemble I've chosen to wear.

Or that I've forgotten my belt, which is something you just cannot forget when you switch over to boot cut pants, otherwise you'll be flashing your ass crack to the world.

Or that I've forgotten to spritz myself with perfume because, after all, the husband bought me the stuff. He likes for me to wear it, so I'd better get with the freakin' program here.

(I can feel the disapproval from the male section of the audience already}

By this point in my rushing around, the husband is generally ready to lose it. He doesn't see why this should be so hard. After all, all he had to do was change his shirt, throw on a sportcoat, brush his hair and teeth. Why shouldn't I be the same, for crying out loud? It's not like I didn't know we had to leave the house at a particular point to get to our destination on time. I should be better organized. A bigger bathroom would spare him. He's sure of it.

I'm not so sure. Women just have more stuff to do in the bathroom than men do. What exactly does the husband do in the morning? He shaves, he showers, he washes his face and puts moisturizer on (and he wouldn't do the last two if he wasn't married to me). He then throws gel into his hair, brushes his teeth and---presto chango!---he's done. I have other stuff to do, like battling with mascara, which as any woman can tell you, takes time.

And you boys wouldn't like for us to look like garbage, would you? Because we would look like something the cat dragged in if we were ready to go when you wanted us to be. I know this for a fact.

Ok, that's not really going to fly, but that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Now go and read what the other Delicious DemystifyingDivas have written on the subject. Make sure you go and welcome Kate from Katespot, who is subbing for Chrissy this week while the Feisty One takes some time off from blogging. The Marvelous Men's Club has their own take as well.

Posted by: Kathy at 10:46 AM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
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1 this had me giggling like school girl, now the guys at work think i'm nuts. "goosebumps on a Muscovite hooker in January" good stuff.

Posted by: phin at April 19, 2005 11:22 AM (Xvpen)

2 Heh heh. Well, I won't ask how most hookers suffer goosebumps, that's a topic for future posts, I'm sure;-) As to the husband's angst, since you lived together before marriage, surely he was aware of the 'war paint' syndrome, no? It's a girl's prerogative to pretty up however she wishes!

Posted by: sadie at April 19, 2005 01:06 PM (c1kB7)

3 He was aware of it, but he was never really all that enthused about it.

Posted by: Kathy at April 19, 2005 09:53 PM (RFVZA)

4 A. She's beautiful without the makeup. B. It's the fact that I still fall for the "yes, I'm ready to go" line every time. I tend to take things literally. When someone says they're ready to go, I think that means they're ready to walk out the door. Apparently what this actually means is "I'm going to spend anywhere from 5 to 17 more minutes futzing with things."

Posted by: MRN aka "The Husband" at April 20, 2005 10:51 AM (RFVZA)

5 I'm with the husband. Simplicity is beauty. I think men and women should sign a treaty and agree to stop being so insecure. Men will give up penis obsession, and women hair and mascara obsession. I will risk the abuse to ask the question... why is it when men don't communicate well we are sentenced to some form of therapy... and women expect us to de-code everything they say, do, or don't say and do?

Posted by: A guy at May 19, 2005 12:06 PM (uDOqw)

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To: Mamamontezz
From: Kathleen Nelson

Re: Criticism

A few points about your post wherein you slag The Demystifying Divas for having the gall to call ourselves divas.

1. If you choose to criticize our work, please link to it. You can also simply link to our blogs if searching for the individual posts is too much work. You might also want to use our names when criticizing us, just so your readers know whom you're referring to.

I have no issues with dissent. You're more than welcome to think our work is crap. But to never once refer to us by name or link to our work is intellectually dishonest. Furthermore, I suspect you know this.

2. The name "Demystifying Divas" is a joke. It always has been. It's a catchy title. That's all.

I suppose this means the joke is on you for not realizing this.

3. If you're going to criticize someone's writing, perhaps you should make sure your post is bulletproof when it comes to the grammar. Otherwise it comes off as a pot/kettle situation and I'm fairly sure that's not what you were shooting for.

Have a nice day.

See also: Pammy

UPDATE: Mamamontezz has deleted my trackback. Woooh. Classy behavior, that.

Posted by: Kathy at 02:48 PM | Comments (9) | Add Comment
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1 To borrow a phrase: "Just Damn." No offense to Cake Eater's Mamma, either. Thank you, Kathy!

Posted by: Christina at April 18, 2005 03:17 PM (HQglt)

2 Indeed. The name is rather amusing to us, and she obviously hasn't read last week's posting on our process for choosing said name. I stand by you, my friend. All for one, as the Men say.

Posted by: sadie at April 18, 2005 04:46 PM (c1kB7)

3 You Go Girls! What the heck is a Rumpus Room anyway? Isn't that the room where you keep all your bondage gear & the chest where "The Gimp" sleeps?

Posted by: Russ from Winterset at April 18, 2005 07:23 PM (ywZa8)

4 I can't figure out where the simultaneous catty/sycophantic mindset comes from in the blogosphere. But this isn't the first time I've seen it. The "too cool for you" lack of a link is tacky on top of it. Maybe Rachel Lucas or Michele Malkin will smile upon her one day and make her purile behavior worth it all. Until then, she just looks like a fool.

Posted by: Doug at April 18, 2005 07:32 PM (7P5xE)

5 Nice job taming the shrew Kathy. I second Sadie, itÂ’s a shame she didnÂ’t read last weekÂ’s post about the naming process; either that or she couldnÂ’t comprehend it. I am amused that not one, but two of the Divas attended Jekyll; something she's wanted to do since the '04 get together.

Posted by: phin at April 18, 2005 07:58 PM (DGPlf)

6 The reason she deleted your trackback is because you have upstaged her with your class and good manners. Ladies like her give 'divas' like us a bad name You were most eloquent, thank you.

Posted by: silk at April 19, 2005 02:52 AM (uwgu3)

7 Note to self: do not piss Kathy off. *blowing on page to make sure ink is dry before closing notebook*

Posted by: RP at April 19, 2005 07:41 AM (LlPKh)

8 She deleted the trackback? That is so lame.

Posted by: red at April 19, 2005 10:33 AM (qxKkx)

9 I went over there this morning to look at the rest of the site, and I see that her main topic of conversation since the "Divas" slam is........reaction to her "Divas" slam. OK, that's "EEEEEEEEEEEEEENteresting". What's next? Delinking? Accusations ("You little bastard, you stole my Instalanche")? Calling this a tempest in a teapot is doing the teapots of the world a disservice.

Posted by: Russ from Winterset at April 20, 2005 10:56 AM (HoSBk)

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So, it's Friday. It's Divas Sez day. So, while two of my comrades in arms are traveling to Georgia (and are prepping themselves to deal with one massive hangover) and the other one is hanging out in England, I'm answering all those very important queries you sent to our inbox.

Read on after the jump. more...

Posted by: Kathy at 09:16 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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....whatcha gonna do, whatcha gonna do when you're sniffing that glue?

Er, sorry. I couldn't help but continue on with the Cops antidote. I didn't want y'all to be poisoned. Ahem. Bygones.

Anyway, it would be Tuesday, which, of course, means yet another installment of The Daring Demystifying Divas. Today's topic: bad boys and why women, indeed, love them.

If I had a nickel for every time a guy, after a long night of drinking and smoking, asked me, "Kath, why do women like jerks?" I'd be a rich woman. This complaint was laid at my feet frequently in the golden days of yore, generally, because I was the nice girl they were walking home. If their evening had gone as planned, I wouldn't be anywhere in the vicinity. Their definition of a jerk was one who swooped in at the last minute, ruining well laid plans. I prefer to call the guys who did the swooping business "bad boys." Because, ultimately, that's what they are---bad boys.

I never answered these guys seriously when they asked. I always tried to boost their confidence by saying things like, "Oh, she's nuts. She's not worthy of you," and so on and so forth. The last thing they needed from me at that stage of the game was to lay out the facts of the matter.

Well, times have changed. I'm not walking home from the bars with yet another heartbroken man. I am blogging. I am supposed to be "demystifying" things. So I will, indeed, lay it all out for the men.

Now, as I see it, the attractions of the bad boy are many---one of which is that they generally ride motorcycles---but I think it ultimately comes down to the fact that they don't give a rat's ass about what the world thinks of them. They're not oblivious, by any means. They just don't give a damn. There's something very liberating in that, and freedom, as we all know, is a heady elixir. To be liberated from the say-so of society? Not to conform your life to what other people think you should be doing or saying? Not to care a whit if you're poaching on someone else's territory?

Well, wow.

One could get drunk on that potion rather quickly and easily, as if it was a shot of tequila, instead of a rush to the system. There's something very manly in that action that gets the estrogen to pumping, ya dig? It's quite sexy. Even if you know firsthand that the guy is a Grade 'A' Prime asshole. Some of us just don't care.

I know. It makes absolutely no sense, right? If women make judgments based on our emotions and brains rather than on our hormones, well, we'd pick the nice guy each and every time, right? We'd find niceness sexy, right? Well, I hate to tell you this, darlings, but we do possess hormones and when you get that sort of rush, well, I think those of you who possess the vaunted XY chromosome could relate, eh?

Ok. Knowing that's probably not going to fly, I shall valiantly push on with the demystifying, because there's more to come. There's the good news. I did mention that there was good news, right? I didn't. Oh, well. Sorry about that, but there is indeed good news, so ungird your loins: women get tired of bad boys. We do, indeed, move on to the nice guys. Eventually most women become accustomed to the hormone rush and decide that, "hey, most bad boys treat me like shit." They will dissect what they found attractive in their particular bad boy and they will look for the good qualities they liked and will try to find those in a nice guy. And there are plenty of nice guys out there, it's just a matter of finding the right one. One who has the proper blend of good guy and jerk.

So now that things are as clear as mud, go and see if the other Daring Demystifying Divas can clear things up for you. If you're a lady, know that the Macho Men's Club have flipped the coin and are tackling the topic of bad girls, and why men love them. See, kids? We really do have something for everyone!

UPDATE: Michele and Phoenix have also chimed in.

Posted by: Kathy at 02:20 AM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
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Feisty Chrissy has been answering all your very important questions.

You know how you're supposed to learn something new everyday? Well, this is your opportunity for today! Go and read.

Just in case you're interested, know that lil' ol' me is up to bat next Friday, so clicket on the Demystifying Divas button over on the right sidebar and send your questions to the divas sez email box. I need your questions by next Thursday evening so the gray matter has some time to work on them.

I will start eating fish right now to get said gray matter in shape.

I look forward to hearing from all of you!

Posted by: Kathy at 11:54 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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As in Zonker is late chiming in on the Cheating topic.

It's worth the wait, though.

UPDATE: Madame Sadie has some visuals for The Men's Club.

Methinks they fared better than the Demystifying Divas did.

Posted by: Kathy at 12:19 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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Why is it that every week I have to remind you people to cough up questions for our Divas Sez Friday feature?

What? Haven't you been paying attention? Geez. We've been doing this for almost a month! That's practially the longest running feature in the blogosphere!

I know. I know. You've been busy. You've been avoiding my site because I'm looking for coin and you don't want to feel guilty about not coughing up. You also are loathe to admit you are such a fan of blogs and bloggers that you emultate us by adopting our habit of having attention spans that are roughly the size of your average gnat. I know all about this, but come on, kids! We're here to answer all of your very important questions. Take advantage of the situation, for cryin' out loud!

So, here's what you're going to do: you're going to clicket on baby-got-back-girl over on the right sidebar. An email prompt will pop up. You're going to fill it with that one question about the fairer sex that you've been dying to ask, if only you'd had an outlet for such a question. You will then send it off.

Feisty Chrissy will do her absolute best to answer it on Friday and, to paraphrase Bertie Wooster, God, as I once heard Jeeves put it, will be in His heaven and all will be right with the world. (He added, I remember, some guff about larks and snails, but that is a side issue and need not detain us.)

You will then do this again next week. On the off chance that you will have become so well-adjusted as a result of Chrissy's brilliance, you will spread the word to your friends and family and ask them to send questions to the Divas Sez mailbox for the next Diva to answer. Which, if memory serves, will be me.

Got it? Good. Let's not have this discussion again next week, ok? One gets bored when one has to repeat themselves.

Posted by: Kathy at 01:50 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Or should I say "dead fish"?

Can you barbeque dead guppy? Or would it be too much of a waste of time?

Posted by: Kathy at 09:19 PM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
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1 Sushi, I'd defiantly go Sushi.

Posted by: phin at April 05, 2005 10:13 PM (DGPlf)

2 *tears start about now*

Posted by: Puffy at April 05, 2005 10:29 PM (ddzYA)

3 Yes, Phin, but are you sashimi-grade?

Posted by: Kathy at April 05, 2005 11:21 PM (RFVZA)

4 too much waste of time!!! get yourself a bf that cooks..i have one..i go to the kicken only for a glass of water! he's marvelous

Posted by: poker at April 06, 2005 04:53 AM (ummSG)

5 I used to think I was sushi grade, but now I'm starting to wonder. By the way have you seen the updated pic?

Posted by: phin at April 06, 2005 09:21 AM (Xvpen)

6 Yeah, I saw it. But I'm not really sure she's any better than Britney. {shrugs}

Posted by: Kathy at April 06, 2005 10:04 AM (RFVZA)

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Ah, another Tuesday, another day of Demystifying Divas.

Marrrrrvelous, darling.

As was mentioned last week the three of us and The Four Musketeers Men's Club were charged with sussing a few things out for Dax, who was inspired not only to ask, but also in a bit of creative illustration by watching Cheaters:

{...}What is cheating? Is it just fantasizing about being with another person? Is it a casual flirtation? Is it meeting for coffee? Is it any less than actual penetration?

And at what level of commitment can cheating occur? If I take Sadie out to dinner on Friday and then Christina to the theater on Saturday, did I cheat on Sadie? What if Sadie and I shared an intimate kiss? Is that different? What if Kathy and I had sex one night, then I went out with Silk? Did I cheat on Kathy? Never mind that Priscilla would castrate me and stuff my penis in throat before she got busy actually killing me.

At some point in every relationship an emotional investment is made. How much of an investment does it take before cheating can occur? What should be the penalty?

Hmmmm. That's a lot of questions. I shall do my best to answer.

Ultimately, for me, it comes down to what causes harm. That's cheating. If you know your actions will cause your partner pain because they would see your actions as a betrayal, that would be cheating. It's pretty simple stuff.

Now, this obviously doesn't count if you're not with someone, yet they are under the mistaken impression that you are and they're hurt because you went off with someone else, etc. You must be in a relationship where promises regarding faithfulness have been made. This need not mean marriage.

Now, I am absolutely sure after reading this it has just crossed someone's mind that they're in the clear and a big wave of relief has washed over them. Well, don't let yourself off the hook there, darlin', because I'm sure as heck not going to. If these people think they've just been given the green light to whip out the "what they don't know won't hurt them" rule, thinking ignorance truly is bliss, think again. Because partners always know, even if they don't know the particulars. That's, ultimately, a bogus rationalization for selfish behavior and it's not going to fly with me. (As a related side note: I find it interesting that there are many conservative men who were on the warpath when Bubba Clinton did his thing, ranting and raving about how, yes, a bl0w j0b does constitute sexual relations, yet who nowadays find it absolutely ok to justify their actions the same way he did. But I digress.)

Anyway, to get back to the topic at hand which was pain in case your mind is as all over the map as mine is this morning.

Now, there is pain, and there is pain. Cheating causes the latter type of pain. It hurts, to put it bluntly. I haven't been there, Thank God, but I have friends who have, and dear God, they were just ripped to shreds by the event. These friends were married or were in committed relationships---relationships where promises of fidelity were offered and accepted. Their partner would have a fling, they'd find out about it somehow and always, always, always, the betrayal was the only thing they could see for weeks. They felt like they'd been used, and to top it off, they had this habit of blaming themselves for their partner's actions. They'd been found lacking, they realized. Whether this lack of whatever was real or perceived was really beside the point at that stage of the game: it was there, looming large, like an oversized vulture just waiting to feast on the remains. It made them feel humiliated; it made them beat themselves all over with the if only stick. If only I'd done this, if only I'd done that...none of this would ever have happened and we'd still be happy. While that point is debatable, it's the humiliation that, just from my experience of helping a few friends, is harder to get over than the betrayal.

But cheating is relative. If you're in a relationship where you're allowed to hook up with other people, no one is cheating---in the true sense of the word. Cheating means to get away with something, to take the easy route to satisfaction. It means everyone is on the same page as far as what is expected and someone has diverged from that understanding. If there is a misunderstanding, where one partner thought one thing and the other thought something that was at the opposite end of the spectrum, well, there are bigger problems in that relationship than just perceived infidelity.

Does a casual flirtation cause harm? I don't think it does. But someone else might. Does the husband's endless fascination with Angelina Jolie harm me? Nope, because I'm secure in our relationship and I know that bitch can't hold a candle to me. She's also a whack-job, too, so I've got her beat there, as well. (No comments from the Peanut Gallery, eh?) Does my fascination with Colin Firth hurt the husband? Does he think I'm cheating because I occasionally wander around Pemberley in my mind with Colin? Nope. Because we understand what is and isn't cheating. We're on the same page. We've made promises and have kept those promises. Other couples might think differently and might have made different promises.

As far as penalties are concerned, well, I have certain thoughts about that and they involve a toothpick and rope.

Now go and read what the other Delicious Demystifying Divas have written on the same subject. For the droopy, feather-totin' hatted opinions of our Four Musketeers, go and read Puffy, Phin, The Wiz and Zonker. Although, I'm not really sure how two fish can wear big droopy hats adorned with feathers, but hey, this is the Internet, isn't it? The land of imagination, so make yours work for you.

UPDATE: Pammy at Lollygaggin' has chimed in.

Posted by: Kathy at 03:36 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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1 The "Cake Eater's Cause Harm Doctrine" Very well thought and said! I think we are definitely all over these issues.

Posted by: Christina at April 05, 2005 10:49 AM (0Hib6)

2 Your absolutely right, you do kick Angelina's ass Wonderful essay hun

Posted by: silk at April 05, 2005 12:43 PM (isrQ0)

3 Absolutely great description of the harm issue. Being cheated on is one of the hardest things to ever recover from. The Snarky Goddess prevails again;-) Colin Firth? Really? Keanu is cuter;-P

Posted by: sadie at April 05, 2005 06:06 PM (2xn/2)

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I'm a wee bit late with this one, but The Wiz has proven there are still some gentlemen out there.

Posted by: Kathy at 11:02 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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So, of course it's Divas Sez day.

The Diva who has answered all of your very important questions this week is Sadie. And this is what she's said.

But, we as we all know, the blogosphere is not really a place that is populated by healthy, well-adjusted people because, let's face it: if we had actual, angst-free lives, we wouldn't be doing this. Hence, Feisty Repartee will conveniently be answering questions for NEXT Friday.

Throw 'em in the email box, which you can find if you clickie on the Divas button on the right sidebar.

Posted by: Kathy at 09:08 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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