why do married women cheat their husbands?

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She simply said, "Let's go honey.” She was dressed in the attractive trendy wear, which specially designed to highlight her curves. I repeatedly heard her curse the tailor for not stitching in time. After a stay of over a month the dress had arrived. Of course I had appreciated the other day when she wore this new outfit and showed me. To tell you the truth it looked gorgeous. Or it would be correct to say that she looked gorgeous. Now in high spirits she started searching for the right footwear that would go with the dress. My wife is younger than I am by eight years. She still behaves like a college girl. One thing she is not able to grasp until today is the grueling nature of my work. Tomorrow I have to submit my final report to the board of directors. With the seniority in post the responsibility increases and you cannot be as cool as my office boy Ramakant who leaves office sharp at the time his duty hours are over. It is a different story that he does not go home until late and his wife though sulky appreciates that her husband works overtime but she curses the company for not paying for his overtime. Nothing was more difficult than opening my mouth to tell Savita that we would not be going for the movie. I promptly added that she could go with her friend but would have to excuse me this one time. She did not bother to argue. My lines were familiar to her. She had given up. I believe she had resigned to the fact that the intimate pleasure of walking the street holding hands, talking with each other as if there was no one else in the world, only he and me, was something she had to fore go. I heard the door shut behind her. No sooner she was out; my mind plunged into the presentation that demanded my full attention. We went out for the dinner. It was great joy to see her full of mirth. She was dining and at the same time talking about the movie. Her appraisals of movie consisted of various details, one of them being costumes. The curtains, the furniture, the interiors were registered as easily as the thrilling twists in the story. She could go on talking for hours, for days with n number of friends including the maid. I asked her while retiring to bed, "With whom did you see the movie today?" She paused as though thinking and then replied, "With the same friend with whom I went last week." She was not prepared to divulge the name of that friend. I knew she hardly has any close friend, except those whom she calls regularly. I thought to myself that all those close friends stayed geographically apart after having married. She would not tell me the name and I showed as if it did not matter to me. Her best friends were guys who were my best friends. Before falling asleep I wondered, which of my buddies was being so courteous to escort her to the movies. I would forget until the next invitation she proposed. It was a National exhibition of handicrafts at the Vellore recreation ground. This time too, the story of her leaving alone was repeated. I finished my work early and was lazing in front of the television as a nagging thought kept assailing me. Who was the bloody rascal who took my wife out? I knew the bio-data of all my friends inside out. I knew what we had been up to when studying together and our skills at flirting were more important than the books that we were supposed to read.