Of Mice and Cheaters

For centuries now, us women have faced the same age old question over and over and over and over again: Why do men cheat? The question is as old as mankind itself, and I'm sure if archeologists dig deep enough in years to come, they will eventually unearth a perfectly preserved skeleton of a Homo erectus with lipstick on his collar. So naturally, when I heard that the Sperminator had spawned a secret love child, I was not all that surprised though a little disappointed. His wife, the great Maria Shriver, looks like this at age 55:



The woman makes my ovaries want to drop. And I'm a twenty-something straight woman with romantic inclinations towards minorities.

This mistress must be superhuman, I thought. She must have the legs of a sea nymph, the bust of an ancient Greek goddess, and the vagina of a virginal kegels champion! But sadly, this is what Ahnie planted his seed in:



Dayyyyyyammmmm son! You sho' done did fuck up with that one!

So to answer that question, ladies. I would say men cheat for the same reason that they like to scratch themselves in public. Because they can, especially when their choice in mistress is not governed by the laws of natural selection.