...and they say we're bad.

You women will always throw out the phrase, "All guys cheat!", whenever you want to express your disgust with the men in your lives. "They're all dogs/sleazy/manwhores/dirty/whatever!" You say all of this to generalize all men based on the few unsavory experiences you or your friends had with just a small sample of the population. So you've dated some bad ones. I get it. So your friend's ex slept with her sister. That's too bad. Don't loop me in with all the other losers who have or will slut around on you. I'm not that dude. I'm not that guy. But, if you must continue to be mean, I have my own generalized theory to throw back at you: All drunk women are single. Ok, maybe not all. Seeing as there's roughly 3 billion women on Earth, I'd say 95-98%. Maybe even half of those are actually single, so I'm already right about them. The other half, I am convinced, who are in "committed" relationships become instantly single after the introduction of mass alcohol. I'm not saying all of you ladies are sluttin' around and all-out cheating on your boyfriends/husbands, but you're doing stuff that you really shouldn't be. After about three drinks, the boyfriend/husband is beginning to be just a memory. The things you find fun are innocent at first, may it be as simple as sexual talk or frequent touching. Or even a flash of cleavage for the amusement of male partiers or to disrupt the winning billiard shot. That's something a single woman could do, sure, not something you do while the boyfriend/husband is at home hoping you are okay and safe. It's all fine, right? You're just having a little fun. What he doesn't know won't hurt him as long as it stays friendly. What about your boyfriend/husband? "I wish he was here but oh well, he should have came when he had the chance." That was the somewhat-forgivable example. Now introduce the fourth drink. You're overly enjoying a lot of lingering hugs and maybe some 'innocent groping'. Nothing major, just a few slaps/pinches on the butt or maybe a seductive shoulder/thigh rub. Maybe you've unbuttoned a couple up top to cool off and be sexier. Let the girls breathe. Even though you're a little jealous of the attention your friends that are actually single are getting, there's still fun to be had. You're dancing, you're having kissy fun with your friends, and you're feeling really carefree right now. What about your boyfriend/husband? "Oh, he'll never know. I'm just having fun. Stop bringing him up." That was the forgivable-but-not-forgettable example. Fifth drink is glued in your hand. You've found your guy for the night. He is getting your full attention as is you are his. You're doing all the cliche things girls do for attention. The touching his leg and bouncing while laughing. The smiling eye contact. The sharing of the drinks. Your friends are encouraging you to get crazy. Get wild. Except for the one who actually thinks your boyfriend/husband is a nice guy. Maybe throw in some girl/girl kissing to turn him on. Maybe not. What about your boyfriend/husband? "He never pays any attention to me anyway. Besides, this guy is so HOT!" That was the borderline-whorish-start-an-argument example. Sixth drink is being sipped at record speeds. The boobs are out from time to time. If they're not out they're being groped by at least one guy. Probably while you're making out in front of your friends. Oh and by the looks of it, you're in love. Short, sweet kisses. It's adorable to watch. That is until everyone remembers you have a boyfriend/husband. And it's good someone remembers because you sure as hell don't. What about your boyfriend/husband? "Hmmm? Oh, I dunno. Have you met Rex? He's in a band." That was the yeah-we-might-be-done example. Seventh drink and beyond. You're a big whore with your tongue down Rex's throat. Hands in pants, falling into chairs, all over each other kissing. You've been cut off at some point, but you don't remember. Your friends are half entertained, half embarrassed. You and Rex are the only people on Earth anyway, so you really don't care. You're in the process of making plans to get systematically plowed tonight when you run to the restroom and never come out. Rex, pissed and horny, leaves with one of your 'friends' or alone. You suddenly remember you have an awesome, faithful boyfriend/husband at home and you call him, in tears, to come pick you sorry ass up. What about your boyfriend/husband? "(sobbing) Please don't tell him! Please!! (pukes) I love him so much!! Blah blah blah, blah blah PUKE!!" That was the you-little-skank-I-hate-you example.