Every life has its own 'viewfinder'—a set of early scenes that play on a loop in the back of our minds. This series, Then to Now, is my personal archive of my own core memories. By documenting these childhood stories, I’m looking for the threads that shaped my perspective, explored through the lens of the present. One memory at a time, I’m tracing the line from these foundational flickers to how they still develop in the person I am today.
In this Then to Now post, I am going to be very vulnerable and honest, in hopes that it helps people understand what could be going on in their own lives, and to help make the case for some very strongly held beliefs of mine with which are often disagreed, and sometimes even disparaged. Please keep an open mind, free from judgment, until you've read the entire piece, and then I hope you will still give grace.
I cheated. I cheated on a boyfriend, a committed relationship. I cheated on two different boyfriends (at different times). While with the second boyfriend on whom I cheated, I cheated multiple times. With none other than the first boyfriend on whom I cheated. It's a mess. I was a mess. Let me explain.
I've always been boy crazy. (Come to think of it, going way back to some of my earlier boy crazy days may be a good topic for my next "Then to Now" post. But not this one.) I've had crushes whom I titled "boyfriends" to be cool like my older sisters. And when I was in junior high, I started having boyfriends who knew I called them that and were agreeable to it, not just crushes I told others were my "boyfriends." I dated quite a bit in high school, always older guys until I was older and then I mixed in some younger guys. In college, I intentionally resisted getting coupled up my first year to give me time to explore my new surroundings. But there were crushes, and partners, and all sorts of kissing.
Early freshman year, a classmate, Ricky, and I became fast friends. I think he liked me as more than a friend from the start, but it would be years later before anything would bloom between us. At the end of the year (and I have no idea why it took this long), he introduced me to his friend, Dallas. Having all but abandoned my Christian practices in favor of experiencing all that college had to offer me my freshman year, the fact that Dallas was faithfully religious intrigued me - maybe he'd be the one to bring me back to the church and save my soul. Or not. It didn't much matter to me, he was cute and charming and he liked me!
Dallas and I hit it off, and I decided my pause on getting coupled up for the year was close enough to expiration, might as well lift it. We were boyfriend and girlfriend I think, for a few days anyways.
Dallas invited me over to his house one day, and Ricky and I went, along with James who was also friends with Dallas and knew Ricky through the mutual acquaintance. There were dozens of people there, set up for something like a graduation party. But Dallas was a freshman in college. Who were we celebrating? Dallas, it turned out. Imagine my surprise when Dallas introduced me to his three fathers (long story), his high school band director, his aunts and cousins, who were all here to bid him farewell as he went off to Boot Camp. I'm sorry, what?
It was then that I learned, somehow completely unaware previously, that my new boyfriend was going into the Navy and would not be returning to ASU that fall. I mean, I had plans to go home over the summer and even that felt like an eternity to be away from my new boyfriend, but this seemed worse.
Actually, good news. His Boot Camp was near Chicago, near where I'd be for the summer. But that doesn't mean I'd see him throughout summer. But we could write love letters. Isn't that sweet? And at the end of his training, I could go see him graduate Boot Camp. That's cool.
We wrote love letters. This is where I am a bit fuzzy; maybe we had broken it off once I learned that he was going into the Navy, and we were just being casually sweet, or maybe he never was my committed boyfriend. Either way, it was never all that serious and he's not the one I cheated on. That comes later. I mention all this now because I also was receiving love letters - or technically, love post cards - from another suitor. We had made out one drunken night before I met Dallas, and he had suddenly taken a more serious interest in me. Either way, it was cute, but I was in Chicago studying Japanese, and didn't have much time for boys. Maybe the boy in my class who was super cute and gave me special tutoring help and introduced me to Ultimate Frisbee and showed me where to play pool and go to the movies on campus. Maybe him. But seriously, I didn't have time for boys!
Dallas let me know the plans for post-Boot Camp. He did not, to my recollection, invite me to the actual ceremony, which probably would have been neat to see even if he wasn't my boyfriend. But we made plans to go to a movie afterwards with his parents. Because, naturally, that's what a good Navy sailor does after Boot Camp. So weird, my life back then. I don't know why any of this was okay. So I went to the movie but he messaged me they'd be late, and to go in without them. So I did. Half way through the movie, he finally arrived and put his arm around me and apologized profusely. I cried, as I do. I was very upset. This was supposed to be, like a cute thing, and instead, I was left on my own in a movie theater in the middle of wherever the heck we were.
Dallas was deployed to San Diego. I think that was the last I had seen of him. But San Diego wasn't so far from ASU. Maybe we could see each other again when I returned to school.
Before returning to ASU for the fall semester, I received one last love post card from that other guy, saying he had fallen in love with a woman and they were getting married. Ooooookkkaaaay.
My cousin, Jenna, her friend Ashley, and I had arranged to get a three bedroom apartment for my sophomore year. Jenna took the master even though I (aka my parents) were paying more than both of them combined, but that was just the start of the Jenna drama and not the point of this post. Life was weird back then. I guess it still is. Anyways, I had this apartment room and so I had to furnish it. Because my Japanese class in Chicago wrapped up just before my classes at ASU started, my Mom actually went out to Arizona ahead of me to get me a bed and set up my room a little bit. That was nice, actually, thank you Mom! All that was left for me to do was get a desk and office chair, and I was in pretty good shape.
Oh the desk. That's where it all really started. Was it the desk's fault. No, it was fate. The desk was just the vehicle of the fate machine. You see, I struggled to get the desk together. My new roommate, Ashley, tried to help out, and we were confuzzled. I wasn't yet an engineer, mind you, I had only one year of engineering basics under my belt at this time. And the desk was stupid!
These were the days of AOL Instant Messenger. Oh gosh. So yeah, James, the friend of Dallas, who I should mention is very good looking, was AIM-ing me (I think that's what we called it) about missing Dallas. I commiserated with him. And then I told him about this damn desk. He said he could help - what a gentleman! But he didn't have a car to get to my place. So I offered to pick him up from Glendale and drive him back to my place in Gilbert. Do you know how far it is from Glendale to Gilbert? So far. But I did it. And we got to talking, you know?
James was a saint. Is a saint, really, except those few times. But that's later. He masterfully put the desk together like it was practically easy. Maybe it was. I was so grateful, though, I asked if I could treat him to dinner. I let him pick the place. He was shocked, the poor thing. He said women didn't usually give him options, and he was so grateful I gave him the autonomy to make a decision. Wow! My heart broke. He was just the sweetest.
Over dinner, I learned that James had never been drunk. Being a recently ordained self-proclaimed expert, I offered to guide him through his first drunkfest within the safe confines of our apartment some weekend, so as not to risk any drunk driving or public nudity or what have you. He was agreeable to a friendly sleepover involving a large amount of alcohol sometime in the near future. We made a plan, and I let my roommies in on it, and Jenna's boyfriend joined in on the fun as well.
The five of us, my two roommates, Jenna's boyfriend, James, and I, had a rip-roaring good time. I don't know why I said that but it feels old-timey and so I'm sticking with it. We played a dumb board game that got us drunk, and "Truth or Dare" and "Never Have I Ever" and then just succumbed to lining up multiple shots and seeing how many we could do before retching. I think I lost that last one - four shots of Goldshlagger did the trick. After brushing my teeth, it felt like it was time for bed. James was exuberant with his first drunken experience, and he hopped into bed next to me, as planned. I turned the lights off, and the next thing that happened was not planned.
James was on top of me, kissing me. And I was kissing back. We made out - I was still a virgin then and that was not the night to be going where no man has gone before. Even still, this was kinda bad.
James and I ended up spending the whole weekend together, mostly lying in bed talking, touching and kissing, and getting up only when we needed food or a bathroom break. After a luxuriously long, lazy, sweet weekend, we decided we needed to tell Dallas. We were both missing from his absence, and bonding over that, but also didn’t want to feel like we were betraying him. So we let Dallas know during a video chat from San Diego, and I guess he must have sort of understood or given us his blessing, because we were pretty stoked after that. I don't recall those specifics, but James and I were now a committed boyfriend/girlfriend couple, out in the open.
Enter Leif. Well, actually, Leif had entered my life a year ago, back in the dorms. He was on one of the engineering floors in the Manzanita dorm next to my much fancier dorm. I had crushed on him hard my freshman year, but he had a committed girlfriend and although he flirted innocently, never gave me indications of anything more. So now in sophomore year, he was in one of my classes and I guess I invited him over for a school project or homework or something. When we finished our schoolwork, he forced himself one me and was instantly kissing me. We also didn't go too far, but we did make out and then some, and, that is obviously not an okay thing to do when in a committed relationship. Both of us were, supposedly.
Now, backtrack a little here and explain all the things going through my head right now. I was very newly with James, which maybe should mean I should have been more loyal, but I honestly thought it wasn't going to last, which is a terrible thing to think, but it is what it is. The Dallas thing had really thrown me, that other guy sending me postcards and then getting married, every relationship in my life seemed so fleeting. A female classmate I became close with freshman year had told me all about how, in relationships, she always cheats right away, just in case he ends up cheating on her, she can feel like she had the upper hand. That logic, though flawed even to me, was knocking around in my head. And Leif. Well, Leif was in a committed relationship, too. In fact, his was much more serious - 6 years or something like that. And I had wanted him for so long. If he was okay with this, then I would be.
Without an ounce of trying to use a cliché, it all happened so fast. Like, it really did. He was kissing me before I knew what was going on. Could I have pushed him away. Of course I could have. But I didn't have time to think before the kissing started, because there had been no warning. And if you've ever tried to think while you are being kissed by a guy you are crazy about, it's not easy. My mind was going crazy but because I didn't know what to do, I just went with it.
So there you go. I cheated. I didn't let Leif cross any lines I wouldn't have been okay with as a single woman. In other words, if I had been single, kissing Leif would have been great, even if he had a girlfriend. I don't believe that the person a partner is cheating with is ever to blame. But I did cheat on James. And I felt terrible immediately.
James and I had plans to spend another weekend together, and I was going to his place to pick him up. Before we got in the car, I told him everything. Or at least, as much as he needed to know - that I cheated, that I was sorry, that I had no intention of doing it ever again, and that I hoped he'd forgive me and we could stay together. I was genuine. And we stayed together for months after that. And I never did cheat on him again.
When James and I broke up, though, it was because another guy had caught my eye, and I didn't want to cheat on him. Paul, a classmate, and I had been studying together and he liked me. The contrast between the two guys was a chasm. Paul was in engineering school. James was a college dropout, with no car, working at Goodwill. But beyond the paper resume, the contrast was even more stark. Paul was brilliant. James was really unintelligent. Sweet, a musically inclined, but really not smart.
James transferred to work at a nearby Goodwill and moved in with me so I didn't have to do the shuttle back and forth. He also wanted to go back to school, and could attend Mesa Community College. So for spring semester, we worked out a little arrangement where Paul would pick me up and take me to ASU for class so that James could use my car.
Paul made his intentions known, and he even got drunk with my roomies and I one time when James was at work, and tried to kiss me. I rejected him. But there were feelings growing.
One night, as James and I were laying down in bed to go to sleep, I called him Paul. It slipped out of my mouth for no apparent reason. I hadn't been fantasizing about Paul, I hadn't been doing anything physically with him, but there it was. I freaked out. I apologized, of course, but my head was racing.
The next morning, I decided James and I should split. There were clearly feelings for Paul and I was so afraid of hurting James. But I had promised myself back in high school I would never dump one guy for another. I had to be sure the relationship by itself was done. And it was; James was clearly not smart enough to challenge me intellectually and I felt I needed more. He was so sweet, and I loved that about him, but he was hopelessly lost career-wise and dating him felt more like a charity case than a strong foundation for a loving relationship. It seemed like ending things with him was the right thing to do, regardless of what happened with Paul. I let James finish the semester out with our little arrangement, which was even weirder once Paul and I started dating but I was still sharing a bed with James. Nothing happened, though, that was naughty, other than the weirdness of physically sharing a bed. I spent the night at Paul's house when I could, which wasn't often since he lived with his parents and I didn't want to make it weird there. The worst part, though, was that James got a tattoo as a way of mourning the relationship with me. It was a crown of thorns on his chest, right over his heart. He would often be shirtless in the room, and I would see it before he'd throw his shirt on. I hated hurting him.
For junior year, I got my own apartment Jenna-drama-free, and Paul sort of lived with me because it was much closer to school. Life was good. Honestly. Engineering school is hard, and now being in my third year, I had to really work to keep up with my brilliant and much nerdier classmates. But we still had fun and Paul and I would visit my family down in Tucson regularly. My oldest sister had given birth to her son in Chicago my first summer back from school, and my middle sister gave birth to her son during my junior year. Paul and I had just arrived back in the apartment from a weekend trip in Tucson when we got the call she was going into labor. We decided to let her give birth without us, and we were back down there the next weekend to meet my new nephew. My niece from my oldest sister came about a year later. I knew Paul's family well, too. Since his parents lived in Mesa, and his six siblings would come around frequently and his Dad absolutely adored me.
Ricky and I were also still great friends, and I'd hang out at his house occasionally, where I got the sense that his parents secretly were hoping I'd date him. But Paul and I were practically married, and everyone was happy.
James was not happy. He had also found a new girlfriend, and got her pregnant. And she was a psychopath, at least as he tells it, and from what I could see. She had gone through his phone and found that he was still messaging with me, even though it was mostly innocent and him venting. We weren't sexting or talking about getting back together. But she went off. She started texting me all these horrible things, and the worst was how she would complain that every time she sees him shirtless, she sees the mark on his heart that is there for me. I empathize, truly, but she was also nuts. They split, and he had to fight for custody of his son. The stress of everything caused his skin condition to worsen. He was really struggling with life. And he'd confide in me that he was striving to be the man I wanted him to be, working on a career and finishing his education. It was sweet and heartbreaking.
Meanwhile, trouble in paradise. I'm not sure I could even recall exactly what the issue was with Paul. I think honestly I was bored. I know that's not nice, but things were so easy and he maybe wasn't as exciting and brilliant as I thought and we were very domesticated and I still wanted to have fun. Video games was a problem with us, he liked to play endlessly and I have never been much into gaming, so that created a divide and time apart.
The confusion started to set in again. I met up with James for lunch here or there, trying to be supportive and keep it public and nothing inappropriate. That didn't last. He kissed me, and I let him. By now, neither of us were virgins, and since we had never done it together, it seemed like we ought to.
This time, the cheating happened multiple times before I admitted it. James and I were sneaking around, and we were going all the way. I didn't like the lying, it wasn't exciting for me. It felt like rekindling something that had never died rather than chasing something new.
Paul and I were on a camping trip with his best friends from Tucson, when he asked point blank if I was cheating on him with James. Obviously, I had done my best to cover my tracks, so I don't know how he knew or if he just suspected, but the guilt weighed so heavily on me by then that I didn't want to perpetuate the lie. I told him the truth. We talked about if I wanted to break up and get back together with James, and I told him I didn't. I wanted to stay with Paul, if he'd still have me, and asked for forgiveness. He forgave me, but asked me to end all communications with James, friendly or otherwise, which I felt was fair. I agreed and I did so.
I never cheated on Paul again. When we broke up, it was mutual and unrelated to other romantic interests. We had grown apart and wanted different things. He had blamed me for us not living in Tucson, because I never found a job there and I did find a job in Phoenix, and unlike him who had a job in college that he could keep after he graduated, I needed a real job. So I don't think it was fair that he held that against me, I told him if he got a job in Tucson that we could move there and I would focus my search solely on Tucson, but until one of us got a job in Tucson, I was going to keep options open to both cities.
Anyways, we had the weirdest break up in history, I think. It was so mutually agreeable, and since he was living with me in my house with guest rooms, he was going to move into the guest room until he figured out where he was going next. What made it extraordinarily weird was after we decided to split, he asked if I wanted to tackle the kitchen renovation we'd been planning for my house. And I did. So we spent the rest of the weekend and a few weeks after using power tools, painting the cabinets, putting up new hardware and fixtures, and working side by side like the best of friends. The relationship was actually easier once we relieved the stress of being coupled up. It was bizarre, and productive. He only moved out once I started seeing someone else and he couldn't bear to see me with another guy.
After Paul moved out, my friend Karen moved in. There was a whole slew of drama that ensued resulting from that mistake. I dated a few friends of friends, and James and I reconnected now that I was no longer with Paul, but it was still drama and we never really rekindled anything. Ricky was still in my life, and after seeing me go through heartbreak after heartbreak, he became my next relationship of significant length. We were together for about 18 months, and I never cheated on him or was ever tempted to. He broke my heart when he realized his desire for me had waned even before we actually got together, and that despite his best efforts to get his feelings for me back, they never came. After being friends for so long, I had wanted us to be forever together, or at least go back to being good friends, but we were unsuccessful at both, although we do catch up every so many years.
Jaiman and I dated for 10 years. I never cheated on him either, although I did have opportunities and temptations when the relationship was on the downward slide towards ending. There was a lot of good in our relationship, and there was a lot of crazy at the end. When I tried to break up with him amicably, he fired off all these bizarre accusations and distorted realities. He insisted I had been cheating on him for all 10 years of our relationship with a guy who lived in Arizona. And he even insisted, for some reason, that I must have been cheating on Ricky, even though he didn't know me then and had no reason to believe that. Of course, I had disclosed my past with cheating at some point early in our relationship, but I had also explained how I realized it wasn't worth it to cheat, and that I know understand if I'm tempted, that it is better to just evaluate why I'm unhappy in my relationship and end it, rather than cheat. Yet he disregarded my truth in favor of a fabricated reality in which he was the victim. I later found his OnlyFans subscriptions on the tablet I shared with him, and realized he was probably projecting cheating on me to feel better about his own online activities, whatever they may be.
And let me now also explain what I have, indeed, learned from those young adult transgressions. I have learned that a relationship is not to be treated like a temporary thing. I have learned that a relationship should not be perpetuated if I want someone else so badly. I have learned that forgiveness is powerful, and there can be happiness after cheating is forgiven. I think the most important thing, though, is that people can change for the better. So many people hold a strong belief that, "once a cheater, always a cheater," and I am living evidence that that is simply not true. I cheated when I was young and confused. I do not make excuses, as those actions were wrong. But I can explain how someone who considers herself a good person, honest, generous, and empathetic, can slip into an action of which she is not proud. I am accountable for my actions, and I was truly sorry in both cases. The second time around was far worse; the guilt weighed so heavily and the lying and sneaking around was so draining, I think I started to feel like it wasn't worth long before he confronted me. Once the question was asked, I had no more energy to fake it. It was a miserable time and I never want to go through that again.
So I learned, for myself, not because Paul told me to stop cheating or because I didn't want to get caught again. I learned that it isn't worth it, that it hurts everyone, including myself. I learned that the hard task of looking at the relationship and deciding if I want to stay in it or leave it, is far more important than the instant gratification I think I will get by cheating. I learned that feelings don't need to be acted upon, but should be used to seek clarity and make decisions. And so, I have never cheated on any committed partner ever again.
Cheaters can change. That doesn't mean they will, just because you tell them to, or even just because they say they will, or because they got caught. A person repeatedly cheating on you should be doubted, of course. Third, fourth, fifth chances are likely not to show improvement. But if a person truly believes what they've done is wrong and learns that it's not worth the pain, they can change. Just because someone has cheated in their lives, does not by itself warrant the label of a "cheater" forever.
Other Then to Now posts:
Then to Now: Never Alone - Friday, April 17, 2026
