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That knot in your stomach when you hear the words, "I messed up. It was a mistake." I’ve been there. I’ve also been the friend consoling someone who just heard that line.
We’ve all been conditioned to think of mistakes as accidents, like spilling coffee on your shirt or taking the wrong turn on the highway. They’re slip-ups, moments of carelessness that we regret but didn’t intend.
But when it comes to infidelity, I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about it, and I just can't put it in the same box. The entire narrative feels wrong. It feels like an excuse designed to soften a devastating blow.
It’s a way to ask for forgiveness without taking full ownership of the actions that led to the betrayal. It’s a conversation we need to have, honestly and without the sugar-coating. So, let's really get into it and ask ourselves: Cheating is not a mistake?
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A mistake is accidental. You accidentally grab the wrong person's black suitcase from the airport carousel. You didn't mean to do it. A choice is a conscious, deliberate act.
You see two suitcases, you know one is yours and one isn't, and you decide to take the one that isn't yours. Cheating falls squarely into the second category. It’s a sequence of choices. The choice to engage in a flirty conversation.
The choice to exchange numbers. The choice to hide messages. The choice to meet up. The choice to cross a physical or emotional line.
Each step is a decision point, a moment where a person could have stopped, turned around, and chosen their partner and their commitment. Calling it a mistake erases all of those conscious turning points.
Absolutely. Infidelity isn’t a single event that just pops out of nowhere. It's a process. Think about the logistics involved. It requires planning, secrecy, and often, lying. You have to create time and space for it.
You have to delete texts, clear browser histories, and invent stories about where you've been. These aren't absent-minded actions. They are calculated steps taken to deceive someone you claim to care about.
When someone says, "It just happened," I have to push back. It didn't "just happen." A series of conscious decisions made it happen. Recognizing this isn't about being cruel; it's about being honest about the level of thought and intention that goes into betraying a partner's trust.
In my opinion, no. It’s probably the most common and most dishonest phrase used after someone gets caught. It's a way to deflect responsibility and paint oneself as a passive victim of circumstance. But we are all in control of our own bodies and our own choices.
Things don't "just happen" to us when it comes to our integrity. We choose to participate. This phrase is an attempt to make the betrayal sound like a random accident, like getting caught in a sudden rainstorm without an umbrella.
But it’s not. It was a choice to walk into the storm, a choice to ignore the forecast, and a choice to leave the umbrella at home. It’s an insult to the intelligence of the person who was cheated on.
This is a tough one for a lot of people, but I stand firm here. Alcohol lowers inhibitions; it doesn't create new desires or erase your fundamental character. If the capacity to cheat on your partner exists within you, getting drunk might make you more likely to act on it, but it didn't create the impulse.
The decision to drink to the point of losing control is, in itself, a choice. If you know that heavy drinking makes you reckless, then choosing to get wasted in a risky situation is part of the chain of decisions.
It may be a reason, but it's a poor excuse. It doesn’t absolve you of the responsibility for the choice you ultimately made while under the influence.
It’s like pouring salt in a wound. When you’ve been cheated on, your entire reality is shattered. Your trust is broken. You question everything. To have the person who caused that immense pain turn around and downplay it as a simple "mistake" is invalidating. It minimizes your pain.
It says, "This wasn't a big deal, it was just a little slip-up, so you shouldn't be this upset." It’s a form of gaslighting, whether intentional or not. It pressures the betrayed partner to forgive more quickly because, after all, we all make mistakes, right?
But this isn't a spilled drink; this is a fundamental violation of the relationship's contract. True healing can't even begin until the act is acknowledged for what it was: a profound and deliberate choice.
Secrecy is the foundation of cheating, and it’s the complete opposite of a mistake. Mistakes usually happen out in the open. If I accidentally break a plate, my first instinct isn't to meticulously hide the pieces and pretend it never happened.
My first instinct is to say, "Oops, I'm sorry, I broke a plate." The very nature of infidelity relies on a hidden, secret life. It involves a conscious effort to conceal actions from a partner.
This act of hiding is a continuous, ongoing choice. It proves that the person knew what they were doing was wrong and would hurt their partner, and they chose to do it anyway and then chose to cover it up. Mistakes don't require that level of intentional deception.
This is the heart of the matter. A relationship is built on a foundation of trust. When you commit to someone, you are making a promise, spoken or unspoken, to be faithful and to protect their heart. Cheating is a direct, conscious, and willful demolition of that trust.
You are taking the trust your partner has placed in you and you are choosing to violate it. It’s not an accident. It's a betrayal.
It’s a choice that says, "My immediate desires are more important than my commitment to you and your feelings." Viewing it as anything less than a conscious violation is to misunderstand the very nature of what makes a partnership work.
It often shows a lack of true remorse and accountability. True remorse sounds like, "I made a series of selfish choices that I knew were wrong, and I deeply regret hurting you.
I am fully responsible." On the other hand, "It was a mistake," sounds like, "I regret getting caught." It shifts the focus from the intentionality of the act to the unfortunate outcome. It's an attempt to manage the consequences rather than taking full ownership of the actions.
It suggests the person hasn't fully grasped the depth of their betrayal or, worse, they are unwilling to face the fact that they were capable of making such a destructive choice. It's a red flag for future behavior.
I don't think so, not in a healthy way. If the betrayal is brushed aside as a simple "mistake," the root cause is never addressed. The person who cheated doesn't do the hard work of figuring out why they made those choices.
The person who was cheated on is pressured to "get over it" without having their pain truly seen and validated. The foundation of the relationship remains cracked. For a relationship to have any chance of surviving infidelity, it requires radical honesty.
That starts with the person who cheated admitting, "I chose to do this. It was not a mistake. And here's why I think I made that choice." Anything less is just putting a bandage on a bullet wound.
Intent is everything. A mistake lacks malicious or selfish intent. If I bump into you and make you drop your groceries, I didn't intend to ruin your eggs. My intent was just to walk past. Cheating is loaded with intent. The intent to connect with someone else.
The intent to hide it. The intent to seek gratification outside the relationship. Even if the person didn't intend for their partner to find out or get hurt, they absolutely intended to perform the actions that constitute cheating.
The hurt isn't some unforeseen byproduct; it's the obvious and predictable consequence of their intended actions, which is why they tried to hide them in the first place.
Confessing is better than getting caught, for sure. It shows a flicker of conscience. But it doesn't magically transform a series of choices into a mistake. The choices were still made.
The betrayal still happened. The confession is a separate choice made after the cheating. While it’s a step towards accountability, it doesn't rewind the clock. The person still knowingly and willingly violated the boundaries of the relationship.
The confession can be the first step in a long, difficult road toward rebuilding, but that road has to begin with the truth: "I chose to do something that I knew would destroy you, and I am telling you because you deserve to know the truth about the choice I made."
Calling it a choice is about empowerment and reality. For the person who was cheated on, it validates their pain and gives them the clarity to make their own choices about the future of the relationship. It frees them from the guilt of feeling like they are overreacting to a "simple mistake."
For the person who cheated, calling it a choice forces true self-reflection and accountability. It's the only way they can understand their own behavior and actually change. It stops the cycle of excuses.
Acknowledging it as a choice is the first, most critical step toward any kind of genuine resolution, whether that resolution is healing together or healing apart. It's about respecting the truth, no matter how painful it is.
Understanding that cheating is a choice puts the power back where it belongs: in your hands. If you were the one who was cheated on, it means you are not crazy for feeling devastated. Your pain is valid.
It wasn't a small slip-up; it was a significant betrayal. This understanding allows you to assess the situation with clear eyes. You can now ask more meaningful questions: "Is the person who did this truly remorseful for their choices?" and "Is this a person I can ever choose to trust again?"
If you were the one who cheated, this is your moment for radical honesty. Stop hiding behind the word "mistake." Own your choices. Dig deep and ask yourself why you made them. What were you missing? What were you running from? Taking ownership is terrifying, but it's the only path to genuine change and self-respect.
Whether you stay or go, this experience will change you. The most important thing you can do is redefine your boundaries based on this new reality. What do you need to feel safe in a relationship? What are your non-negotiables?
This isn't about building walls around your heart; it's about installing a door with a lock. You get to decide who you let in and what behavior you will and will not tolerate. Your standards are not too high. Your need for honesty, respect, and fidelity is the bare minimum. Don't ever let anyone convince you otherwise.
At the end of the day, words matter. Calling cheating a "mistake" is a disservice to everyone involved. It’s a soft word for a hard reality. It's a lie we tell ourselves to avoid the much more difficult, but ultimately more healing, truth.
The truth is that fidelity is a choice, made every single day. And infidelity is a choice, too. When we start being honest about that, we can start making better choices for ourselves, demanding the respect we deserve, and building relationships on a foundation of truth, not deception.