Man is not monogamous by nature.  Some men discover this simple truth early on in life.  Others spend the rest of their pathetic lives struggling between ideas of love and trust, and their innate and instinctual desire for sexual variety.  The human being is animal, only one of many animals fortunate enough to inhabit this ideal environment.  I say ideal in the sense that planet earth appears to exhibit all the necessary requirements in order to sustain the existence of human life.  Not unlike the other animals on this planet, most post-pubescent men and women possess the intrinsic desire for procreation.

This desire is genetically encoded within the human being, and essential for our survival as a species. And though it is far more practical in current times to maintain only one life partner, our desire for multiple partners cannot simply be eliminated by contemporary socialization. Thus, it becomes blatantly apparent that though it is in our best interest not to manage more than one long-term relationship, ridding our lives completely of sexual variety is neither healthy nor even natural.

I first realized the impossibility of my being monogamous at the age of 27.  This moment oddly enough coincided with the approximate time my wife began putting on weight.  When we had first started dating, she had been young, fit, athletic, and very healthy. Her body was well portioned, her stomach was flat, and her breasts were ripe and perky.  She alone could satisfy me, and she did for many years.  Now most woman blame gaining weight on pregnancy. My wife, however, was not pregnant.  She began gaining weight for two main reasons: her metabolism was slowing down (I suspect) and she was becoming lazy. And though the first few pounds didn't seem to bother me too much, especially since her breasts were the lucky recipients of some of this weight, it eventually became too much.  By the age of 27, while we were both still in the sexual prime of our young married life, I was no longer attracted to my wife.  What frustrated me even more than not being attracted to my wife, however, was the simple fact that I still loved her and didn't want to lose her.

Though I had no problem whatsoever achieving and maintaining an erection while viewing pornography, or even fantasizing about earlier times, achieving and maintaining an erection with my wife became
more and more difficult. Oblivious to the apparent reasons, my wife became as frustrated as I was, and began suggesting drugs for erective dysfunction. Unable to confront her on the true reasons for my lack of enthusiasm, I followed her instructions and sought out my doctor for advice. Surprisingly, my doctor was reluctant to prescribe any drugs, and suggested therapy or counseling. 



When I gave the news to my wife, she thought it would be a great idea that I attend to my obvious psychological issues as a supplement to the pharmaceutical regiment she expected me to embark upon.  Never once did she even seem to consider the possibility that the problem could in some way be related to the fact that she had added about 40 unnecessary pounds onto a previously perfect body, had cut her hair ridiculously short, and fumbled around at home in frilly, flowery pajamas. What made her even less attractive, however, was the fact that she became angry and hostile whenever I even tried to broach the topic of her hair, weight or pajamas.  She was a modern woman, and could do whatever she wanted.  Well then, I guess I could too.

Rather than perusing the streets at night, or hitting on women at my work, I decided to explore my sexual options online.  And since I was worried about being caught on a dating or intimate encounters website, I took full advantage of all the new features and capabilities that social networking sites now included.  Searching or browsing profiles, I began to message attractive locals in my area. Some I would instant message with, while others I would join in a not too busy chat room.  Before I knew it, I had dates for nearly every weekend of the month. Did I feel guilty about this? No more guilty than my wife felt in constantly depriving me of my innate yearning for a thin, athletic woman.  No more guilty than my wife felt about constantly depriving me of sexual gratification and fulfillment.  

The one thing most women will never understand is that men can separate sex from love.  However, the more and more I cheated on my wife, the more frustrated I become with the whole situation.  I am now quite certain my wife and I won't last more than a year or two.  Nevertheless, I am grateful for the lesson she has taught me.  I desire sexual variety, and I enjoy it tremendously.  When my wife and I eventually break apart, which now seems inevitable, it is unlikely I will ever find total satisfaction again with just one woman.  I am a changed man. Variety, after all, is the spice of life.