How do you decide to cheat?

Does something major have to happen, a fight? Sleeping in separate rooms? Lack of communication? A forgotten birthday or anniversary? Sexless marriage? Or is it a steadily building pile of little things like burping in public, tighty whitie underwear, not helping around the house? I'm reading these blogs of married men and women who have found their way into the arms of lovers and can't help wonder how did they get there? I've made friends with a few and spoken offline to get some understanding. The most interesting thing that I've found: everyone loves their spouses. Some even believe their mates have turned a blind eye on their extramarital affairs. What pushes otherwise happily married individuals over the edge and into someone else's bed?

How many more "uncomfortable" conversations about sex can a couple have? Or when do you have enough "really, you couldn't think of doing that for me simply because I asked you to"? Is there a conscience decision to cheat? Or do you one day find yourself so pissed off by the day's fucked up circumstances that some man or woman just happens to be in your wrong place and wrong time at the right fucking time? Like if I left the house right now went to a bar or club or hell the supermarket and Mr. SmileAtMeTheRightWay offered to take me home, would I?

Is this rant of mine a case of me being overly sensitive to the fact that today is my birthday and I know funds are tight and hubby has "allegedly" something in the works but couldn't get me even a card on my actual day? Am I being a bitch because of this? I know money is tight right now, I know he has the best of intentions, but..... for Father's day and his birthday, I orchestrated this huge surprise "Man's Day" at this sports club, got him the cards, the cake, even spending money to hang with the fellas on his day. I can't get a card with an I.O.U for this weekend or the next or for whenever he has whatever he has planned. My mother gave me a mini-Julia Roberts shopping spree today (you know the new size after baby clothes) and all I could think about was when I get home maybe there would be a modest bouquet of flowers, a card or shit even a poem written on a piece of scrap paper...he knows I'm a simple gal and simple things please me. We've had this talk about a $2 card to mark occasions when money, timing and originality are out the window...ie birth of our son, mother's day, Christmas. I don't know...is it my mother's fault for making our birthdays feel like the most special day in year even as adults? Should I blame her for feeling this way? I don't think so, especially since I've told him how I feel about this a few dozen times over the years. It's not about material things for me, it's the idea that you took a moment to sit down and think, what could I do to make this day special for my mate? I'm a poet by nature, and so was he when we met, I've told him countless times, can't get to the store then put your love in print...it's priceless and can't be bought. I don't know...I just feel like, damn. Someone talk to me...