I was reading an article the other day about adultery that I happened to see on an internet news site. The figures listed showed that thirty seven percent of the men that responded and twenty two percent of the women had admitted to having affairs.
That number shocked me. Not because of the number of cheating spouses but it made me ponder just who in the hell the men were fucking. The facts speak for them selves, unless there are about seven percent of the population of cheating men having gay liaisons, the numbers should be relatively the same.
After further computations and population research, I deducted that about thirty three million men were cheating on their wives and in the neighborhood of twenty two million women. Assuming that it takes two to tango as it were, I had to conclude that there should be a fairly equal amount of adulterous women or one super slut that had fucked about ten million men.
How am I doing so far?
The difference leads to another startling conclusion. What would that be you ask? Well let me tell you what the numbers say to me. Consider the fact that there are about one hundred and five million women in the United States over the age of eighteen and of that number thirty three million or around thirty two percent cheated. If you compared that against the twenty two percent that admitted to cheating on the survey, an astounding ten percent difference, one could come to the conclusion that there are about ten million lying, cheating, slutty whore wives out there trying to pull the wool over your eyes in regards to the survey.
Check the numbers your self, I'll wait...
You see, it doesn't quite add up does it?
So if you assume that my numbers are in the ball park, you could conceivably take a stab in the dark and confront your wife about the affair that you are not even suspecting her of having and you would have a one in three shot of being right. Does that scare you even just a little? Well it should.
My theory probably seems skewed to all but one or two of you, but hey, nobody believed Einstein at first either, not to mention Newton or Ron Popeil. Oh fuck, you know the guy that invented the vegamatic.
I was across the street the other day at my buddy Fred's. We were tinkering with his lawn mower in the garage when I told him about my startling findings. He, the poor dumb shmuck, laughed at what I said, "You're crazy Albert, do you have any freaking idea how much trouble that your lame brained scheme would stir up if I asked Peggy if she was having an affair?"
I hadn't really thought about it but the math doesn't worry about that part. Fred was right, it would cause some grief. There was also the lying slut factor to consider, a confrontation would not necessarily render the truth. I had much to think about still, there had to be a way to prove the numbers.
After Joanne, my wife, and I had dinner that night, I headed straight to the family computer. Now that the kids are grown and on their own I won't have worry about anyone stumbling onto my data because Joanne doesn't even know where the on button is. I started working on a spreadsheet to prove, if only to myself, that I was onto something big.
I started by listing all the spouses in the cul-de-sac, there were ten houses all with married couples. Twenty names went on to the list starting with mine and Joanne's. I would methodically go through the list and eliminate them one by one, or not, in case I was to prove infidelity.
I knew for a fact that I had never cheated on Joann, so I put an "F" next to my name to indicate fidelity. I then moved down the list and typed another "F" next to Joanne's.
Next I drew a map with the ten houses, I labeled my house number one and continued with the labels working clockwise until I reached number ten.
I considered the known factors and went directly to house number five, Salvatore and Ethel. Sal had bragged repetedly that he had been banging his secretary. I went to the spreadsheet and typed a big red "A" next to his name. Shit this was going to be a piece of cake, I'd have supporting evidence of my theory in no time at all.
For a few moments, I thought of the neighborhood gossip. There'd been some rumors but I wanted to base my findings on facts to make it more scientific. Decidedly, the way to go was with first hand knowledge, like in Sal's case, or an eyewitness report.
This presented a whole new set of problems, as you might guess, I couldn't wander around the block asking the others if they were cheating now could I? It was up to me to get the goods on each and every one of the cheating bastards.
For the next week, I researched day and night to glean any insight available on how people cheat. The Internet proved to be a vast chasm of stories on cheaters and their unknowing spouses.
I read hundreds of stories about women that took pleasure in humiliating their husbands and strange as it may seem to you, some of the husbands seemed to enjoy it more than the wives, go figure.
The deeper I dug the more that was revealed. Mistresses, boy-toys, swapping, cream-pies, cuckolds, prostitution and list goes on and on. Men do it, women do it, the birds and bees even do it. I got to wandering if I was the only one on earth that didn't. That created another new problem, suspicion.
I got the first inkling of trouble about then. Reading so many stories about sex was making me feel frisky. Joanne was all too happy to accommodate my randy spurt and even tried to get me to try a few new things in bed. Joanne and I were not on the adventurous side, at least I never was. She seemed to want me to indulge in the more creative side of lovemaking, things that I'd not even considered before.
Suspicion is an evil thing, it plays tennis with your brain cells. Every face I looked into, I saw a big red "A" staring back. Yes, even in Joanne's. There would be no further work on Project X until I was sure that Joanne wasn't in the thirty something percentile.
Over the next few days, I used many of the techniques that I'd read about to determine whether Joanne was in fact cheating on me. I went through her cell phone records, zip. I relentlessly searched the house, nada. I looked for any signs of new sexy underwear, just a new package of granny panties. I even went so far as to stop by the house at random time during the day, my net gain was one very tasty ham and cheese on rye.
What the hell did all this nothing mean? It was beginning to drive me up a wall. I started having troubles sleeping. The nightmares of Joanne with some other guy were killing me and I don't mean in a figurative way. I was loosing weight and starting to have pains in my upper chest and left arm.
For the third night in a row, I lay awake watching Joanne sleep peacefully. At about four A. M. my left arm went numb.
I reached for my wife and shook her gently, "Jo... Jo... Joanne, wake up."
She opened her eyes as if she were in a fog, " What is it Baby, are you ok?"
"No, I'm not ok," I responded.
"What is it Albert, heartburn again? Do you want me to fix you an Alka Seltzer?"
I decided right then that the direct approach would be the best, "Joanne, I need to know, have you ever lied to me about anything?" lets see how she reacts when cornered.
"Well sure I have Honey, I do it all the time," she said calmly.
"Aha! I knew it. I knew you were hiding something from me. How long Joanne, and why, why, why would you do it?" the sudden realization brought tears to my eyes.
"I started right after we were married, I'm sorry Albert but I just wanted to spice things up a little."
"Oh God Joanne, how could you do this to me?" I cried.
"Albert, I've been doing it for over twenty years now, it hasn't ever bothered you before," she reasoned.
Twenty years, oh God, "Jeezus Jo, twenty years? How often?"
