Countless times, in TV & film, men are characterized as prosperous infidels - CHEATERS who manage to live their absolute best lives after pure betrayal!
You’re saying Quincy McCall can “take the hoe to Burger King”, propose to Tyra Banks out of spite, and STILL marry Monica by the end of the movie? (see: Love & Basketball)
You’re telling me Michael can let Julia disrespect the fuck out of Kimberly for an hour and 52 minutes - and STILL, she and Michael say “I Do” then live happily ever after? (see: My Best Friend’s Wedding)
Yet my ladies can’t ever slip, slide, or swerve on screen without catching chlamydia and dying?!
Plz, I urge you dear reader, take this time to consider exactly what message is being sent to young ladies and impressionable youth across the nation in this article I call:
WE CAN’T EVEN CHEAT IN PEACE
Exhibit A: Tyler Perry’s Temptation
I will commence my argument by boldly stating that our protagonist, Judith (portrayed by Jurnee Smollett) was 110% justified in her cheating. If any character in the history of cinema deserved to cheat and get away with it, it was the good sis, Judith.
(Observe how happy and glowy she looks as a cheater (right) vs. bored and frumpy as a faithful wife (left))
She made it clearer than the waters of Lake Minnetonka that she was tired of boring bed sex, yet, her husband continued to deliver boring bed sex.
Her husband forgot her damn birthday.
See numbers 1 & 2.
So, baby girl steps out on her husband to spice up her life. And what happens? Not only does her side piece turn out to be an abusive nut basket who damn near murders her, he also transmits her HIV.
As if that's not bad e-fucking-nough, the movie ends with Judith becoming a marriage counselor, and using her own life story as a cautionary tale to urge a female client not to cheat on her husband. Thus, sending the negative message to female viewers all over America that: if your man ever forgets your birthday, you cannot venture out and find solace on some new dick without getting AIDS, divorce papers, two black eyes, and regret.
Exhibit B: American Gods
The TV drama series American Gods (based on the novel by Neil Gaiman) begins with Shadow Moon (Ricky Whittle) incarcerated. Behind bars. Locked all the way up, for three whole years.
So, his wife Laura Moon (Emily Browning) is supposed to sit at home, with her legs crossed, holding her husband down ‘til he gets home… right?
Yeaaaahhhh, Laura veers from that script a bit after month THIRTEEN of yelling “FREE SHADOW”. Not only does Laura cheat on Shadow religiously while he’s serving time - her side piece of choice just so happens to be his very best friend, Robbie (Dane Cook). Three days before Shadow’s release, Laura takes a car ride with Robbie and lets him know that their two year affair has officially come to a close. As a parting gift, and a thanks for all the love he’s shown to her lady parts, Laura gives Robbie some farewell fellatio. I guess 2Chainz was correct in stating that it’s: “Hard to get some head and try to drive.” Because the car crashes.
Yep.
Laura and Robbie slam into an oncoming truck, and Laura dies, three days before her husband’s release, with his best friend’s dick in her mouth.
Yep.
That is her legacy.
Oh it gets better, though! (By "better" I mean "worse.")
Laura Moon is brought back to life (except she has no blood flow, nor does she have a heartbeat, so...) and she goes marching through the streets as a one armed zombie, fighting to defend her husband, Shadow, and regain his affection.
What are we teaching our female audience, Starz?! That if your husband gets locked up for THREE YEARS - a whole 1,095 days - and you try to lend a little love to your vagina by… I don’t know... sleeping with your man’s bestie, you’ll die in a head on collision with a dick in your mouth, and then be reduced to roaming the Earth as a lifeless disfigured zombie?!
C’mon.
Exhibit C: Addicted
Synopsis: In short, Zoe Reynard (Sharon Leal) is addicted to sex. Hence the title of the film, Addicted, which was adapted from the novel, Addicted.
Synopsis: In long, Zoe’s problem isn’t that she needs multiple lovers - she just needs a whole lotta wild sporadic sex. Unfortunately, Zoe’s husband, Jason (Boris Kodjoe), isn’t scratching that itch, whatsoever. While he goes to bed all satisfied and shit, our poor protagonist Zoe is left watching porn and finishing herself off with toys, night after night.
Until, she scraps that pathetic, faithful lifestyle and decides to get her cheat on with a charming art dealer named Quinton (William Levy).
Then she really gets wet and wild, and starts scheduling dick appointments with some random guy named Corey (Tyson Beckford) who she met at the club.
So now we’ve got a husband and two side boos. A Popeye’s $5 box, if you will. But, after many moons and many sexcapades, Zoe decides that she needs to focus solely on her husband. She fucks up by meeting with Quinton and Corey at the same time to deliver the news and give them their walking papers. When they realize that she’s been sleeping with both of them, lo and behold, Quinton and Corey turn out to be murderous and insane.
Arguably, Zoe doesn’t have the worst outcome of all time. She does leave with her marriage intact - okay, cool, whatever. But not before:
Corey attempts to knock her the hell out
Quinton attempts to slit her damn throat
Jason has to appear out of nowhere to save the damn day and
Zoe has to join sex addicts anonymous.
*Sigh. This film is nothing more than a scared straight program for displeased wives in cinematic form.
Exhibit D: The Girl on The Train
I will close my case with The Girl on the Train by Paula Hawkins - a #1 New York Times Bestseller published in 2015 and adapted into film in 2016.
(Sidebar: What the fuck I gotta do to release a book one year and have it turned into a movie the next? MY LANTA! GOALS GALORE!)
Anyway, hand to God, this is one of the greatest books ever released. My sole critique, if I must choose one, is that our primary character, Megan, cheated on her husband… but didn’t get away with it.
In fact, the portion of the book that Megan doesn’t spend MISSING on a milk carton, she spends completely the fuck deceased.
“HOW?” you may ask.
“Who killed her?" you may wonder.
Why… her man on the side of course!
From cover to cover, Megan can’t catch 'nerry a break. She cheats with her neighbor, she gets pregnant by her neighbor, she gets slaughtered by her neighbor, her impregnated body is left dead in the woods by her neighbor - and that is all she wrote.
Over the course of this unfortunate tale, every young, doe-eyed, female reader and/or watcher has been slowly guided towards the notion that cheating on your husband must mean:
