The Club. The Perfect Stalking Arena For The Cheating Man.

Obviously, women cheat too. But here, I will only address the men. Not being bias but a man's cheating tactics are VERY different than a woman's cheating tactics. So, perhaps I'll make this a two part entry, this being Part 1.

Growing up around a lot of males, I have witnessed the lengths that some men go to cheat on their girlfriends/wives. Most of the time, they really do love their woman, but the thing with men is, men crave sexual variety. And if you can't provide the variety, they will seek it elsewhere. Now, to the topic at hand. What is the ideal place for a cheating man to find the perfect smut woman to cheat with?

The most commonly preferred places are the bars, clubs, lounges. These modern day meat markets provide the perfect stalking grounds for any man who's looking to temporarily resign from his current relationship. Nowhere else can such an alluring combination of women, alcohol and immoral fuckery be found under one roof. Where art of good conversation has been degenerated to nothing more than a prerequisite to a some good sex.

Men have formulated their own ideas about women who go out to clubs every weekend. They figure these women are lonely, extremely bored, or just plain thirsty. Most women would disagree, but actions speak louder than words. Every weekend they pile inside overcrowded clubs wearing tight ass dresses with their asses hanging out, heavy makeup and way too much perfume. Their fuck me now piercing glares and suggestive body language declares to the thirsty ass men, "Tonight is the Night". I'm sure some of these women are entertaining thoughts of meeting their "Mr. Right." But luckily, some women eventually do wake up and realize that the club is no place to meet a decent man(in most cases). After years of putting up with the exhausting and bullshit games associated with night life, they grab their coats and purses from coat check and vow to never return. However this rude awakening is of no concern to the fiend who is confident that next week will bring a new roster of others to take their places. They will be lined up halfway around the block in their skimpy lil outfits in the freezing rain, desperately waiting to get into the club, like lambs being led to slaughter. And it is from these unsuspecting creatures that the next "other woman" will be chosen.

Physical beauty is the least important. The cheating man would much rather take a decent looking woman who will fuck the shit out of him, over a fine ass woman who has sexual inhibitions. He is looking for something he can't find in his relationship, a jumpoff must be willing to do all types of freaky shit. Loyalty is also a prerequisite. The cheating man, despite his own infidelity, needs a woman whom he can trust to not "run the streets". She must be at his beck n call at all times. He doesn't want to hear about her going out with her friends. She is his personal sex slave who must make herself available 24 hrs a day, 7 days a week.

Its very hard to find this woman so the thirstbucket has to position himself in areas where his efforts in his quest to find the perfect jumpoff can be maximized. You will notice him sitting at the bar, standing by the door, or looking down over crowd from a perch or balcony. Once he spots his target, the chase is on and popping. Armed with a fresh caesar, splash of D&G cologne, and hopefully a breath mint, he sets out on his lustful journey. Just as the animal hunter relies on his guns, traps to capture his prey, the cheating man relies on his smooth talk, good looks and low morals of his victims to accomplish his goals.

But determining whether a particular woman has characteristics which will suit his purpose isn't such an easy task in a night club environnment. Loud music, other fiends, and the womans nosyass girlfriends make the process extra difficult. This leaves him little else to go by other than a womans attire. More precisely what she's wearing and how she's wearing it. This is first indication of her morality level. Of course this doesn't apply if she's wearing a mini skirt and clearly has her man by her side. But due to the fact that short tight mini dresses are commonplace wherever you go nowadays,the perception is that most of the women in the club are dizzy promiscuous whores. This hasty assumption has been the cause of many heated verbal and sometimes physical exchanges. The man can't decipher between the smuts and the women that are just out to have some fun and a night out with her girls. When women have their tits out on a platter, Some men percieve it as an invitation to touch, grasp, and be disrespectful. And there is no doubt that many women expect these types of impulses since they go to such great lengths to expose as much of themselves. The dude is merely reimbursing her for her troubles.

But sometimes even the conservatively dressed women is the looser one out of the two. But the man doesn't wanna do all of that. He's not looking for a women to take home to moms, he's simply looking for someone to take to the nearest telly to bang out real quick and possibly again in the future.

Let's keep it one hunnit, the night club is nothing more than a weekly production specifically designed for play,profit and perpetrating. Nothing is what it appears to be. When the doors open, curtain goes up, and its show time, unemployed men suddenly become corporate executives and women on welfare masquerade as fashion models in their knockoff louie v attire.

So, maybe next time you go out with your girls, you might wanna keep these tips in mind. Unless of course you don't mind being the smut "other woman", then do you. I'm not one to judge. I know any man I'm dealing with wouldn't dare look elsewhere. ::Kanye Shrug::

FYI WOMEN: Stop hiding that inner freak when you got a man. It's okay, you're SUPPOSED to do all that stuff with HIM. If you've done more stuff with your jump offs than you have with your man...then I dont blame him for cheating on you. You deserved it. REALITY CHECK Chances are, if he's with you, he's not going to label you a slut for fulfilling his(and your) needs.

Vomit At First Sight.

Have you ever dated a man you were not attracted to ... not even one bit..not even after downing a bottle of patron? I have. As a matter of fact, I just went out with said man about a month ago.

It had been a few months since I last had sex, and about a month or so since I last had any type of jumpoff rendezvous. Maybe by the time this dude came into my life, I was so beat down that I thought, what the hell, why not? Maybe I was so needy that any form of sexual pleasure was enough. Maybe after being surrounded by all these looking for love type sucka ass predator dudes, I needed someone I could just push around without having to worry about the consequences.

Whatever the hell the reason was, this dude, let's call him "Boxer", ranks as my weirdest, most embarrassing, most what-the-fuck-was-I-even-thinking situation ever. And that's saying a lot.

I was sitting in Borders book store reading a book about Taurus Horoscopes 2009 when he came up to me. "So, I'm hoping your reading that horoscope for yourself and not for your man."

Without thinking, I hit him with a quick response, "Umm, yea, I'm the Taurus, but if I had a man and was reading it for him, why would it matter?"

And then he proceeded to try to hit me with his G. "Because then I wouldn't be able to tell you how good of a match Taurus and Cancer are. And it just so happens that, I'm a Cancer. Fate?"

At first I thought to myself, Who says that? But I can't front, I was intrigued(or maybe just bored).

"Boxer" claimed to be 26, but he looked a lot older. He was fashionably challenged walking around wearing slacks that were so short that they looked damn near like he was wearing capris. And on top of that he was mad skinny.

So what was the draw?

You have to understand that the only thing I was missing in my life was a convenient jumpoff. Most of mine have ridiculous schedules and its too much work. So, I figured, what the hell, let me stop being such an asshole and give "Boxer" a shot. I thought in the back of my head that he might have a crazy pipe game, can't let him get away.

So, Boxer gave me an impromptu psychic reading, proclaiming that I was a "roller-coaster ride" and an "adventure;" that I was a realist; that I looked and acted just like my father; on and on and on until he said the magic phrase, that as a cancer he could make me "happy".

Then he immediately did two things right: asked me out on date, and said can make himself available for me anytime that I want. Needless to say, after he said that, I had the ill kool aid smile on my face. Took his business card so I could set up an "appointment".

We went on a few dates and sexually, he did nothing for me. I didn't like the way he dressed, and his breath stank sometimes. I let him eat some of the forbidden fruit aka "the box"(hence,his nickname "Boxer") and I gave him nothing in return. Atleast while hes eating the box, all that is in view is his eyes and head, which weren't half bad. When he tried to have sex with me, I simply said, "I don't want to do this" and got dressed, while he all but burst into tears and confessed his love for me. Another psycho. He told me he was going to take care of me. He was going to come into some money, and he'd be able to help me. He tried again to hump me, and my exact words were, "You really need to get the fuck off me!"

He was undeterred. He said with absolute certainty, "I think you are making a mistake, we got something good here. You are my "Taurus" and one day we're going to look back on this and laugh."

Some part of me, really really deep inside, wanted to believe him. But honestly? I was physically sick to my stomach once I had to look at him after he was done with his Boxer duties. Needless to say, that was the end of that.

I wan't to hear about your stories with people you weren't attracted to. I know we have all had one if not more of those type of situations, and alcohol doesn't always do the trick.