Being cheated on is taking a vacation? – 06/25/2023 – The Worst of the Week

Fabrício writes to tell me that he is a cuckold. Upon discovering his girlfriend’s jump around, he did not become possessed and did not end the relationship, even feeling a certain relief and an increase in sexual libido in relation to his partner. He wants to know if he’s crazy.

Crazy, my dear, is someone who marries swearing allegiance in church. Believing, all at once, in marriage, fidelity, and church. Crazy (and annoying) is the media coverage of Neymar’s betrayal. The coverage that social networks would give if the betrayal had come from a partner of Neymar (imagine the parade of misogynistic and disgusting comments?), would make me even more sick.

I only remember that Neymar exists when he needs to win a World Cup or defend democracy from the worst president in the history of Brazil. He failed at both. Besides, there’s no way I can be interested in other people’s dirty tricks or requests for forgiveness, because I have other things to do.

But let’s go back to Fabrício’s girlfriend’s betrayal. As a human being, she has cheated a few times. As the human being that I am, I lost count of the times I was a cuckold. I had the most diverse reactions. At the age of 21, I spent months without sleeping properly, crying endlessly, thinking that the world had ended and that I couldn’t trust anyone else. At 39, I considered getting mad, then I remembered that I wasn’t a saint either, I yawned and went to sleep because the next day I was full of work and I was still breastfeeding a baby. The things that ended my life at the age of 20 now seem a bit silly, especially after motherhood. Sometimes I really think that if my daughter is without a fever, then all the rest of the world might be burning in hell.

I’m taking it easy because I’m referring to a momentary prank, a “gosh, some shit escaped here after years together” and not the discovery of a lover who has been swearing in love for years. I will never defend the serial flirtation that passes for the faithfulzão do rolê. Assuming that Fabrício’s girlfriend is part of the first example, I argue that being a cuckold for a man can be pleasurable and relaxing like a vacation in Bahia.

You are not crazy, dear reader, you are free, loose, untied.

I’ve always defended that it’s not just women who suffer from machismo, the male, the patriarchy and all that disgraceful litany of commander-colonel-powerful-provider-can’t-cry-can’t-shock-can’t- fail. That must be an unbearable prison for the guys too.

What you felt, Fabrício, when you found out you were a cuckold, was a little angel sent from God with a golden key full of rhinestones (a good angel is a gay angel) to open the very heavy chains that your father, your paternal grandfather and your paternal great-grandfather they were getting thicker and thicker, and more and more rusty, for you.

The currents that say, century after century: “The male is sovereign, sacred, perfect, unique and can never be made a bundle”. Now that you are a cuckold, you no longer need to be afraid of being a cuckold or of how you would feel the day you lost control of the cosmos and a girl’s vulva and, perhaps, become a cuckold.

To be a muggle is to be free. Sylvester Stallone in “Rambo” just turned pathetic. You can’t spell Arnold Schwarzenegger and you don’t even want to learn. You’re so free to schmooze, I bet you’re even more cumming. He’s so loose to cry and feel humiliated, small, a little Brazilian among so many, that I can see his smile and his squeamishness on the floor from here. His chest open and imposing.

Long live the horn man! If I were a man I would be jealous of you.

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Tati Bernardi answers the most unusual questions and strangest comments from her readers. Do you want to participate in the O Pior da Semana column? Send your message to [email protected]

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