My story of being cheated on in brief:
Seven months into my serious and passionate relationship with my ex, he got black-out drunk at a bar and slept with a fat pig.
He tried to break-up with me the next day out of guilt, but the break-up was so out of nowhere that I was completely confused and convinced him to remain in our relationship.
For the next 11 months, slowly but surely, he told me about what had happened. First, it was that he kissed someone else after he met me, but before we were dating. And so on.
11 months after the cheating occurred, he finally revealed the entire truth about what had happened that night.
More than anything, the lies he had told me in the 11-month period between the cheating and the revealing bothered me. It destroyed me that we had shared many intimate moments, during which I felt there were no barriers, no secrets.
Our relationship then deteriorated.
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Oh, and to answer the questions, no, I don’t really believe that he will always be a cheater. His action was no less wrong, but it wasn’t malicious, and he sure felt bad about it. He is now married, and I highly, highly doubt he would ever cheat on his wife.
As for how I handled it?
The drawn-out lies drove me crazy. I wanted to forgive him, but I couldn’t, so instead, I spent the remaining six months of our relationship with grueling “how could you do this” laments. I made him write a long letter to the fat pig, explaining to her that he never wanted to sleep with her at all and that it was the biggest mistake of his life. We went to her work and hand delivered it. I sat and stared at her while she read the whole thing.