Are All Men Dogs?

Are All Men Dogs?

Sandra Bullock’s hubby has been cheating on her with a tattoo model
/ porn star.  Hollywood studs cheating on Hollywood babes isn’t
shocking.  What’s weird is how often we find ourselves saying,
“seriously?  Her?” whenever we see photos of the other
women.  Some of our finest looking dames have been made a fool by their
better halves – Halle, Sienna Miller, even Angelina supposedly got
cuckolded by Billy Bob.  Tiger’s wife looks like Venus emerging from
the half shell compared to the silicone-injected Plain Janes he bagged
on a regular basis.  Boggles the mind.

One theory suggests men coupled up with women who outshine them beef
up their egos by schtupping lesser females.  Hence, the male partners
of A-list actresses bedding B-list bimbos.  However, it seems equally
possible career-obsessed folks, whether male or female, are too
obnoxious and neglectful to make their partners feel loved.  You don’t
become a megastar like Sandra Bullock by spending a lot of time stoking
the home fires.

Though I don’t know Sandra Bullock personally, I’d see plenty to
commit to if I were her man.  All I’d think of when looking at his
“Bombshell” mistress is dirty sex.  And therein lies the rub.  Chicks
who work so hard to be sex objects – fake boobs, surgically enhanced
lips – will probably do anything a guy wants, for as long as he wants
and will buy his BS about his (non-existent) divorce and how his wife
no longer gets him.  Unfortunately for these gals, men probably see
them as little more than blow up dolls come to life.

Maybe the wife isn’t the person with whom you do certain sex acts,
so you find “a bad girl.”  Maybe you and the wife are regularly apart,
so you screw some brain-dead hottie who won’t threaten your
relationship.  Are these desirable solutions to relationship
challenges?  Probably not.  But I can imagine this Jesse person
thinking Sandra Bullock is the greatest thing since sliced bread yet
still screwing some gal he doesn’t give two shits about on the side.

Of course, these are famous people.  They’re vain enough to want the
entire planet to know their names, believe themselves deserving of $25
million pay checks and have an endless line of tail offered to them on
a daily basis.  Famous people are aberrations and nothing like us. 
Drawing conclusions about relationships based on the behavior of
celebrities is like basing financial decisions on what the Rockefellers
might do.

But what’s unsettling is how often I hear normal men call their own
gender out as canine.  “Men are dogs,” some of my male friends say. 
“We’re basic, weak, can’t be trusted.”  The other night I heard a dude
at a bar say, “Guys will always go after other women.  We’re men,
that’s what we do.”  Last Tuesday, I saw a Henry Rollins show.  He said
men would even screw trees if they had breasts.

And there’s the sinking feeling every woman suffers.  The fear that
no matter how loving and supportive we are, no matter how much we
stimulate men’s minds and ravish their bodies, no matter how much
freedom we need for ourselves and thus are ready to give them, there
will always be some chick with a nice rack he’ll cast us aside to bone.

So, if, as Chris Rock says, “a man is only as faithful as his
options,” what are we supposed to do?  Decide the dog myth is true and
become bitter and suspicious?  Decide it’s not true and risk being
naïve?  Decide it doesn’t matter and turn a blind eye?

I kinda don’t believe it.  I’ve known plenty of men who’ve turned
down hot, easy ‘tang because they’re devoted to their main squeezes.  I
also appreciate the inevitability of temptation so rarely let it get my
panties in a twist.  I even think I could get over my man admitting to
a meaningless fling, even if the girl was a tattooed, former stripper,
porn star, fetish model who poses in Nazi gear (really, Jesse?)

But the last thing any of us should do is blame bad behavior on
anything other than choice.  We aren’t animals, none of us are dogs. 
If we’ve got seemingly unquenchable desires mucking with our ability to
form healthy relationships, we may want to work on them.  If you’re a
career freak who neglects relationships or a booty hound who can’t keep
it in his pants, you should probably do something about it. 
Relationships are good things.  The people we let into our lives are
decent folk with fragile hearts who are just trying to love us.  Why
not put our egos aside every once in a while and try to love them back?

**Reprinted from Laura K. Warrell's blog Tart&Soul at