the boys club


When I was in college, I had a sweetheart that I dated for more than two years, and with few exceptions, we got along really well. But one problem I always had trouble with was his choice of roommates.

My dearheart’s roommates regularly, and without fail, cheated on their girlfriends. I knew this both from what my boyfriend told me, and also from what I witnessed on occasion. Because oddly, those two didn’t seem to have a problem with doing this right in front of me. One particularly bad boy would have women over when his girlfriend was at her parent’s house- with their child. Nice, right?

And what I could never understand, what I just couldn’t fathom or comprehend, was how my boyfriend could be friends with boys like that.

“Don’t you realize,” I huffed at him repeatedly, “if they lie to and cheat on the one person in the world who they supposedly love more than anyone that ultimately, they won’t be a good friend to you, either? Can’t you see that they aren’t trustworthy?”

No, he said time and time again. It’s different. They wouldn’t lie to me. We’re friends.

To which I always responded, How do you know?

I call it the Boy’s Club. And membership is open for any guy, no matter how he behaves, as long as he’s a good bud to his pals.

And maybe it’s hard for me to understand, because women don’t cheat as much as men. Well, maybe they do, but they certainly don’t tell me about it. So considering it as a friendship factor is not something I’ve ever had to contend with. Over the years, I’ve known a number of men whose friends treated their significant others poorly, and the guys I knew just didn’t seem to care. Like great politicians who cheat on their wives, it wasn’t part of their voting decision- it was just an aside, that didn’t affect their friendship.

The one time that I’m aware of that someone cheated on me, a couple of people in my inner circle knew, but chose not to tell me. I found this out after the fact and of course, demanded to know why. “I didn’t want to get involved,” said one friend. And that hurt. It hurt a lot. Because if you can’t “get involved” with your friends, what’s the point?

And maybe I’m just as bad. I’ve had plenty of married guys hit on me (and yes, I know the difference between a flirt and a hit), and I never once told their wives. I never told the girlfriends of my ex’s roommates, either. Why?

Well… If you’re a regular blog reader, then you know how I feel about karma. What comes around goes around. When things fall apart, as they inevitably will, I don’t want to be responsible for the fall-out. And maybe that makes me a bad person. Someone who doesn’t want to get involved. A charter member of the boy’s club.

And my personal experiences haven’t been situations where I am well acquainted with both parts of the couple. These have often been more work-related situations. I would feel really random going to some woman I don’t really know and explaining to her who her husband really is. I guess I’m just assuming that they’ll figure it out on their own, eventually. Because of karma. And I know for a fact, some women just don’t want to know. They’re happy living in la-la land, and who am I to mess that up?

I suppose if one of the wives approached me and asked me straight out, I would tell them what happened. I think in that instance they’re just looking for confirmation. But it’s never happened, so I don’t really know what I would do. Maybe I would just wimp out.

In the meantime, I think I’ll just let karma take its course.

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