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How to Cheat on Your Wife and Get Away with It at Least Every Other Time
June 2006

Now it’s been said (by me, naturally) that women are quite a bit like automobiles. Every man yearns to drive a Porsche or a Corvette as they tool around town in a Buick. I happen to drive an old Ford. The guy down the street cruises a BMW. And so it goes.

Overly simplistic? Here’s a secret. Women see themselves as comparable to vehicles as well. Don’t believe me? When was the last time you saw a stripper driving a Chevette?

So there comes a time you decide to buy a car. Not a new car. Every car has been driven at least once before your happy ass came along. You get a ride you can almost afford and you think for the next five or ten years you won’t have to concern yourself with mass transit again. But not two days pass before you’re casting appreciative glances at traffic.

Very few of us are satisfied driving the same vehicle day in, day out. Why not test drive that Lexus? Hell, there’s no reason not to take that beaten down Mercury with the dodgy transmission for a quick spin around the block. Where’s the harm, providing your primary means of transportation doesn’t find out and leave you stranded on the side of the road, twenty miles from the nearest gas station.

All right, let’s park the autoerotic metaphors at the curb for a moment, shall we? At this point, any women still reading likely prefers the hole over the pole, anyway. You want to get laid without the wife getting wise.

Unless you’re attractive, well-endowed or monied, finding a flesh-and-blood alternative to the fleshy woman who bleeds you of all your cash is going to be the difficult part. Keeping the affair a secret will be the even more difficult part. But it can be done-­for abbreviated lengths of time. And I’m just the man to show you how.

Finding The Ride That’s Right For You

When searching for a spare ride, you’ll want to begin the hunt no nearer than three towns removed from your home track. This is almost common sense. Regardless of how well you think you know your wife’s circle of acquaintances, there will always be cousins, friends, friends of friends, the woman your wife pays the telephone bill to; people you don’t know who are well aware of your marital status when they spot you high-stepping with the blonde you met in the produce section of the Piggly Wiggly. Remember the Buddhist koan: “The further you are from your bed, the easier to fuck the red head." There’s a reason those monk guys get all the pussy, and it ain’t the shaved heads.

Finding the ideal woman for an extramarital affair is not as simple as settling for whoever seems willing to spread her legs for you. Well, actually, it is that easy, but for the sake of this article, we’ll pretend you have options available. After all, do you really want to risk your marriage--not to mention your financial stability--on a platinum-blonde manic-depressive with sagging tits and a cop for a husband who says she thinks she loves you after the first time you snake her puss?

Hell no.

You don’t buy a car that’s leaking oil like a sieve, no matter how flashy the paint job.

A discerning man knows where to look for his spare ride. Don’t go to your mother-in-law’s house trolling for trim. You’ll come away disappointed. Likewise, homeless shelters, churches, and lesbian nightclubs are all places where you’ll come away empty-handed, at least until you get home and fill your hand when you think the wife’s asleep. Also, Salt Lake City is hopeless. All the women there are spoken for­-by the same guy.

Strip joints are an ideal place to meet loosely moralled women experienced in the ways of dealing with desperately married men. AA meetings have been known to harbor stray snatch if you think you’re able to outmaneuver the other twenty hard dicks jostling for position. I’d also suggest Hoboken. I’ve never been there, myself, but I hear it’s teeming with lovely ladies sympathetic to the sexual plight of the married man.

If you’re the type of guy who doesn't mind buying a car sight unseen, you might want to investigate this thing called the Internet. Within “chatrooms” reside women--and men claiming to be women--who seemingly exist in the hope of meeting a man on the “web.” The advantage is you can get all the get-to-know-you bullshit out of the way from the comfort of your home and office which means you only have to see her in ten minute increments.

The disadvantage: you may find she also possesses a hairy chest and a cock and balls.

Many men are tempted to pour the pork to the office slut or factory whore. Bad idea. Those Buddhists have a koan for that, too. “Don’t be getting head where you make your bread.” Translated for the heathens: Don’t shit where you eat.

A married guy I knew at work went down that road. He spent many “golf outings” laid up in bed with a brunette from accounting, and by all accounts he was on the open road with the top down until a jealous co-worker phoned his wife with irrefutable proof of her husband’s infidelity. I have no remorse. After revealing the information to his wife, I figured I’d be next in line for the brunette. She settled with a circus midget, however, and it’s just as well. Some other vengeful prick would have been putting my wife in the know, which leads me to point #2.

What To Do In The Likely Event Your Dumb Ass Gets Caught Joy Riding

Because, despite whatever precautions you take, you will get caught. Every man eventually falls prey to woman’s intuition, a vaguely psychic sense of wrong-doing that has absolutely nothing to do with the facts and everything to do with man’s inherent inability to stay faithful if there’s another woman even thinking about offering up some pussy.

So when the accusations fly, remember: deny everything.

If the wife says, “my cousin’s boyfriend’s mechanic says he saw you riding around with the produce whore from the Piggly Wiggly," the correct response would be, “no, that wasn’t me."

Don’t try to smudge the truth. Don’t say, “her car broke down and she needed a way home”. In fact, avoid the truth entirely. As far as the wife’s concerned, if she’s a woman and she’s within the confines of your car, you might as well have your dick in her mouth.

Innocence is a myth.

The truth will set you free, if you want out of your marriage, that is. And that freedom incurs a heavy price. Lying doesn’t cost a thing, even if your wife walks into the bedroom while you’re balls deep in your spare ride’s exhaust pipe. Admit nothing.


Wife walks in. “What are you doing fucking that produce whore from the Piggly Wiggly?”

“I’m not fucking anyone.”

“I’m standing right here, looking at you balls deep in her ass.”

“No, you’re not.”

See how easy that is?

Reality is illusory. All women are crazy to some degree, and female ownership of a handgun negates this entire article.

So if you’ve read closely, I’m sure you’ll enjoy many trips with a variety of makes and models. You may even wish to experiment with mudding and swapping and other things you wouldn’t dare subject your primary vehicle to. I say go for it. But if you find yourself wrapped around a tree with two broken legs, don’t come whining to me. I’m still driving the antiquated two-ton Ford I’ve driven since I was old enough to drive. What do I know?

Karl Koweski resides in Guntersville, Alabama, where he explains the concept of okra to Yankees.


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