The Art of Cheating

Inspiration is like ice cream. There are many different flavors, but just one flavor is sometimes not enough to make you happy. Over the years, I have experienced seeing people become separated because of the dysfunctional circumstances created because of this odious word "cheating." My firsthand account of cheating was with my dad, God bless his soul. He had cheated in perpetuation since I was seven years old and living with my stepmother. This beautiful woman never deserved to be cheated on. But what did I know? I grew up thinking only men cheat. I was wrong. You see, I loved my stepmom. She took good care of me because I never knew my real mom. All that I knew was that she died when I was two and a half years old. My stepmom was the love of my life. She was of the Catholic religion, and she could sing like a canary bird. My dad was so handsome that people called him Precious, a ladies' man. He didn't think there was anything wrong with seeing other women because he was sowing his royal oats. In those days, men were treated like gods. They had the power. One day I said to myself, "When I grow up, I want to be like my dad, in charge of my castle." My dad's friend also had a beautiful wife. She resembled an East Indian with long straight hair. They were our neighbors, but she never worked, and he worked day and night. As a very hardworking man, he gave her the best of everything. I decided when I became a man I was going to be more like my dad's friend.