I didn't want to give LaidNYC more attention. Really I didn't. But this one is just too good you guys. So instead of linking to his blog, which I'm sure you can find, I'm just going to copy-paste this amazing and illuminating short story with the full disclaimer that I really, really do not own this material.
So, presented without further commentary, I bring you:
The Fight With Dick
I'm hanging out on my couch with Dick when my phone buzzes with a new text message.
"Hey I'm gonna be in the city on the 27th are you free for a drink?"
Cheryl. I met her at a bar near Penn Station playing darts, took her home that night for a pleasure pumping and now she tells me whenever she's in the city on business so we can hook up. She has the best natural breasts that I've personally felt and she has a certain enthusiasm between the sheets since I'm her secret New York City bang. It's good to be the king.
Dick perks up. Only there's a problem, I tell him. This time I have a girlfriend.
Problem, asks Dick, what problem? You can cheat.
Yeah. I could. I could cheat.
Dick spurs me on, Yeah, the 27th is perfect. It's a Thursday. Tell her you're gonna go out with Mike drinking. She'll go to her parents house for the night like she always does when you're out with your friends. No problem.
Of course I can avoid getting caught. I'm not an idiot. It's not about that.
Dick is confused. He softens a bit at the lack of shared enthusiasm. Then… .what? This is free pussy. What you feel guilty or something?
No. Remember that episode of Jerry Springer we watched where the guy named Jameer cheated on his whole-lotta-woman girlfriend Darhonda. We laughed for two minutes straight when she managed to get a good slap in. What a dumbass he was.
Yeah, that was hilarious. So what?
Well if I do this I am no better than Jameer. Sure, neither of MY girls are fat, but the principle is the same: If I cheat I will be low class trashy scum.
You have a job and wear a belt you're already above that class. Besides, the president of France cheated. Bill Clinton cheated. You think those guys are lower class than you?
You know what I mean.
Alright think about this. Let's say she does find out somehow. She might leave. I like her. I'd rather it not end this way.
You know you'd play it right so she wouldn't leave you. She'd be MORE attracted to you. Its simple preselection and dread game. Haven't you learned anything?
So I'll just vaguely flirt with a girl at the next party we go to. I don't need to actually fuck someone else to have preselection for fucks sake. Integrity, Dick. Men have integrity. When I expect loyalty, I give it.
Fuck that, it is a capital felony when women cheat. When men cheat, it is a misdemeanor, like pissing in an alleyway. You know this. They know this. Besides, girls are sluts. How long have you been dating her, six months? You haven't even hacked her email yet. What if shes cheating on you?
If she ends up being a cheating slut, I'll cross that bridge when I get there, but this is about me. It's about who I want to be. I'm not a cheater. Being a player is fine, at least you're not lying to anybody. I can always go back to that life. But being a cheater is something else. Besides, she's at least a full point prettier than Cheryl.
Yeah, but her tits aren't as nice. And her blowjobs aren't as good.
Yeah, well she hasn't had as much practice as Cheryl. I'm only the second guy she's slept with.
So she says.
Yeah… so she says.
Dick knows he has hit a nerve. He squints at me, still excited. He keeps talking about Cheryl's immaculate rack and how the girlfriend will never know. I may have to choke him to get him to shut up.
My phone buzzes again, this time with a new GChat from my girlfriend: "I miss you more than usual today".
I swipe back to my texts. I delete Cheryl's text and phone number hurriedly before I change my mind. Dick has been defeated. This time.
What a hero.