Was talking with a friend of mine this morning who insists approximately 89 percent of men cheat on their wives. Having never cheated on the wife, I disagreed. I put the number closer to 40 percent, but even that seems high. I’ll go 20 percent. What do you think?

We debated the parameters. Visiting a strip club (which I’ve done four or five times in my life, though only once since meeting the wife—for a bachelor party) does not, in an of itself, count. Neither does visiting a strip club and getting a lapdance. However, visiting a strip club and getting a lapdance and a hand/blow does equal cheating. We both agreed on that.

Why have I never cheated on my wife? A bunch of reasons. First, I love her. Like, really love her. Cliche be damned, she’s my closest friend, and I’m honored that someone of her character puts up with my crap every single day. My feet smell. I talk during movies and reality TV shows. I’m a raving-mad hypochondriac. I can’t dance or sing, but try and do both. I’ve spent too much time trying to memorize Left Eye’s rap from Waterfalls, and now the wife is forced to hear it a couple of times per week (I’m 95 percent there, but for the life of me I can’t grasp her mumblings toward the end). I’m an insecure writer who wants to hear everything he puts on paper is gold. On and on. Somehow, she sticks with me.

Second, I can’t really imagine being intimate with another woman. I mean, I certainly notice and admire and, occassionally, stare at beauties (it’d be weird not to). But to actually have sex with another person? Just doesn’t interest me. Maybe that’s weird.

Mostly, I wouldn’t want to hurt her. And I couldn’t live with the knowledge. I’d have to tell her, and that’d probably be it. The marriage might not completely die, but the trust would.