I was thinking of you the whole time:

Ryan G. Murphy

I cheat on my girlfriend all the time.

There’s really no sense in denying that any more. Cheated last weekend … will cheat this weekend … and probably the next week as well. I’m having a hard time explaining that one to her, though. She doesn’t seem to get it at all.

Not that she’s nagging me, but all I here from her is, “commitment” this and “I don’t think you understand me anymore” that. Relationships make as much sense to me as long division did in Mrs. Perry’s fourth grade class.

It’s disgusting how bad I am.

My roommate cheats on his girlfriend as well. He’s not nearly as bad as I am, although I have taken comfort in adding a partner in crime. He and I understand why we do it. We just haven’t quite figured out how to tell the girls that on some days, we enjoy the company of others more so than we enjoy theirs.

I’ve tried to do the sensitive boyfriend thing and I’ve tried listening to her the entire time she tells the “oh my God, my roommate borrowed my new jeans and she looks so much better than I do in them so I’m ready to die” story. I just can’t do it. I still want to cheat.

If I’m not cheating, I’m thinking about cheating. This is probably because I never actually got over my first love – NFL football.

Watching football is like being the kid in high school who lettered in physics and got to make out with the prom queen. Football has made me fall in love and has broken my heart, all in an afternoon’s work. Riding a roller coaster never felt so good.

Hey, 70,000 thousand fans sitting on the edge of their livelihoods, waving towels in sub-zero temperatures and cheering for quarterbacks with even colder ratings can’t be wrong. Now that’s a commitment that makes sense.

A few times, my girlfriend and I have watched a game together. She’ll stare at me and wonder why I have to hold a football when my team is on offense or why I don’t even think about watching the game on my living room television. It all makes sense to me. Without saying it, she’s asking herself, “When is my boyfriend going to return?” Sadly, the only return I’m worried about is the one that just got called back for holding.

It’s not that having a relationship like this is bad; it’s just being in love that makes it hard.

A 40-yarder that sails just right … that’s heartbreak. Quarterback is out four to six weeks … that’s lovesick.

So it’s not that I don’t like my girlfriend anymore, it’s just that I need to look for excitement, love and passion outside of our relationship once a week. I need to cheat. So Pam, for the next 16 Sundays or so, I don’t think it’s going to work out. It’s not you, it’s me.