
I had to make the change.
By Alex Alexander — Written on Dec 28, 2022
Photo: Vladimir Gjorgiev / Shutterstock

I've never been a faithful partner. Not once.
I cheated on my first boyfriend when I was 17. When I was married, I had an affair with my yoga instructor, a fisherman, a Sufi poet, my florist, a hairdresser, and a tango teacher.
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I loved the thrill of being naughty and never getting caught. I craved excitement.
I'd go at it in broad daylight at cheap motels, in cars, and even in a Pilates studio. I'd shop for lingerie, used explicitly for these cheating trysts, and then toss it in the trash.
I thrived on the newness of a ripped body pressed up against mine. I was absolutely addicted.
Eventually, I left my marriage and found myself in a new relationship. After a few months, we stopped having sex, cold turkey. For eight months, he didn't lay a finger on me.
I tried to be a loyal, supportive partner but my old ways (and sexual needs) crept back in.
Before I knew it, I was doing the no-pants dance with this incredibly hot musician from a popular rock band. He was married and bored; I was intimacy-starved.
We met up once a month and let it all out. I carried on like that for a while, then called it quits with my boyfriend.
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Here's the thing: I never became emotionally attached to any of the men I ran around with. I just needed the rush.
I'd always be dressed and out the door before they tried any of that cuddling or pillow-talk nonsense. Many of them would comment that I was "like the man in the arrangement." I got off on that. I felt empowered, fierce, and invincible.
Somewhere along the way, I found that what I truly craved were those exact feelings. I had all of this energy and no other person could help me spend it fast enough.
One day I just woke up — literally. It turned out I had it within me all along to boost myself up and feel like a bada**.
Cheating was the wrong outlet and I needed to cut it out. I was wasting time, and disrespecting myself and my partners.
I found myself a cute apartment, took a new job, and started spending quality time alone.
I stopped dating and didn't have random hook-ups anymore. I got busy taking care of myself. My urge to constantly get naked simmered down.
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I adored living alone. I took up snowshoeing; I loved the feeling of trekking out into the newly fallen snow in my winter gear. I went on day trips and would disappear, not telling a soul where I was.
These moments filled the void I used to fill with sex.
I found hidden beaches, hiked gorgeous trails, and learned to make fresh jam and bread. I'd prepare elaborate meals just for me, and treat myself to high-end cheese and wine.
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In lieu of orgasms with strangers, I'd recreate meals from "Cooks Illustrated," listen to Chet Baker albums, and take myself to the movies.
For the first time in my life, I was having a healthy relationship with myself.
Eventually, I met and fell in love with someone to whom I'm fiercely loyal. He's a dedicated, strong, and present partner. Because I feel more complete as an individual, and he's living a life he loves, we balance each other out.
I'm no longer interested in cheating because I learned how to stop distracting myself with meaningless sex and relationships.
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Alex Alexander is a pseudonym. The author of this article is known to YourTango but is choosing to remain anonymous.