Why Men Cheat More: The Psychology Behind Male Infidelity

Ivette
Sep 25
11 min read

Updated: Sep 27

We weren’t paranoid. The data backs the heartbreak.

Scene from Closer: Anna (Julia Roberts) and Dan (Jude Law) share a quiet, charged moment in an art gallery. — *Closer (2004)*

It starts small. You’re halfway through your overpriced oat‑milk latte, casually scrolling through your feed, when it happens again: another cheating scandal, another picture‑perfect boyfriend caught off guard. He had it all—the curated couple’s grid, the soft‑launch stories, the artsy black‑and‑white captions that whispered you and me, always. And yet, despite all the visual poetry, he still cheated. You scroll the comments. Half the crowd drags him. The other half shrugs: 'Well… that’s just how men are'.

I’m not interested in folklore or fatalism. I’m interested in the setup—the parts inside us and around us that make betrayal feel like relief before it detonates a life. If we’re going to talk about why men cheat more, we have to talk about numbers, about the brain, about power and stories—and then we have to talk about design. This isn’t a sermon about purity. It’s a manual about risk, written in plain language so everyone can use it.

📊 Across multiple studies, men report higher rates of sex outside the primary relationship than women (Mark, Janssen, & Milhausen, 2011; Whisman, Gordon, & Chatav, 2007).

Why Men Cheat More: What the Data Really Shows

Before we judge, we measure. In large U.S. surveys of ever-married adults, lifetime reports of sex outside the marriage often land near roughly one in five men and about one in eight women. Those numbers aren’t carved into stone; they shift with definitions of cheating, survey anonymity, and which cohorts you ask. In committed but unmarried relationships, the range widens for everyone—not because a wedding ring rewires human nature, but because the rules are looser and contexts change more often (Whisman, Gordon, & Chatav, 2007; Mark, Janssen, & Milhausen, 2011). The useful lesson here isn’t doom. It’s probability. And probabilities can be changed.

So, where does the tilt come from? Part of it is how our brains work, and I promise this won’t get too science-y. When something feels new or uncertain, the brain’s reward system ramps up dopamine signaling that tags the moment as worth chasing. Dopamine isn’t 'pleasure'; it’s a pursuit signal built on prediction error—strongest in anticipation, not after a sure win. In short, novelty and maybe light up motivation circuits fast (Zald et al., 2004; Bunzeck & Düzel, 2006; Wittmann et al., 2008). If you’ve felt that dizzy rush when a new person flirts with you, that’s the system saying: move.

🧠 Our brains often reward the chase more than the catch—so new can be hard to resist (Bunzeck & Düzel, 2006; Wittmann et al., 2008).

Now add personality and early patterns. If closeness once felt like losing freedom (avoidant attachment), the 'new and exciting' signal can drown out the quieter voice of your values. The sequence becomes predictable: novelty spikes, self-control dips, and behavior outruns promises. Many affairs don’t start with deep feelings; they start as a chemical shortcut—a fast way to feel alive that skips the slower work of intimacy, repair, and conflict resolution (Simpson, 1990).

There’s another dial worth naming: sociosexuality—how comfortable someone is with sex outside commitment. Higher comfort means more risk-taking when opportunities appear. That’s not fate; it’s slope. Slopes can be sanded down if you admit where they are and plan for them (Penke & Asendorpf, 2008). Biology can suggest, but it doesn’t decide. With practice and a plan, you can route that 'new' energy back home—new roles, places, shared adventures—so the thrill doesn’t require a stranger.

🔍 People who score higher on comfort with casual sex take more chances when they pop up—but that’s a tendency, not a destiny (Penke & Asendorpf, 2008).

But biology isn’t the whole story. If it were, the rates would be the same for everyone. Culture and power change the math. After every scandal we hear the script: It just happened. It was a mistake. We were in a rough patch. That’s not accountability; that’s public relations. When researchers ask men why they cheated, a common reason isn’t deep misery. It’s availability. The door was open and they walked through it (Selterman, Garcia, & Tsapelas, 2019). And when people have power—real or perceived—they’re more likely to feel above the rules. In lab and field samples, power raises entitlement and lowers the felt cost of consequences, nudging infidelity risk upward (Lammers et al., 2011) —a small-to-moderate effect, not fate.

📈 Power boosts a sense of permission and lowers fear of consequences—together, they make cheating more likely (Lammers et al., 2011).

There’s a double standard in the fallout, too. Across cultures, men’s sexual missteps are more often minimized while women’s are punished. That doesn’t just change the comments section; it changes behavior. Expect mercy, gamble more. Expect exile, play small (Endendijk, van Baar, & Deković, 2020; Bordini & Sperb, 2013).

📘 Sexual double standards still show up across cultures, subtly shaping choices long before anyone kisses anyone (Endendijk, van Baar, & Deković, 2020).

How It Actually Starts—and How to Shut the Door

Affairs rarely arrive as thunderbolts. They creep. They slip through small openings that repeat. One common route is opportunity: travel, late calls, after-parties, private DMs—the overlap of privacy, alcohol, and attraction. Without boundaries set in advance, improvisation takes over. Another route is ego fuel: using attention like a mirror—I’m wanted; I still have it. That isn’t intimacy; it’s pain relief. A third route is avoidant attachment: closeness feels like a cage, so secrecy becomes a pressure valve—no honest talk, no conflict, just a private exit (Simpson, 1990). A fourth is self-sabotage: picking a fight with fidelity because ending the relationship cleanly feels too heavy. Four routes, one engine: in the moment, impulse beats values unless you’ve trained what you’ll do before the moment shows up.

Let’s make this concrete. Picture a week‑long work trip. Late nights. Drinks. A team that treats charisma like currency. You’re the new favorite. A coworker laughs a little too long at your jokes. The DM lands after midnight: you up? That’s not romance; that’s a risk stack—status + alcohol + privacy + novelty. If you haven’t pre-decided your move, adrenaline will decide for you. Then the mind does what psychologist Albert Bandura called moral disengagement: it tells itself stories to make the choice feel okay—It was just a kiss. We were both drinking. No one is hurt. By the time guilt arrives, the damage has started (Bandura, 1999).

🧩 We often narrate ourselves into bad choices and only see the cost after the mess lands (Bandura, 1999).

So what actually works to keep the door closed? Not speeches. Scripts. In behavior change, specific if–then plans—implementation intentions—outperform vague promises (Gollwitzer, 1999; Gollwitzer & Sheeran, 2006; see also Achtziger et al., 2008). Think simple, testable moves: If the chat turns flirty, I step out. If I feel that buzzy rush, I leave the room or text my partner. If travel stacks status, alcohol, and late nights, I keep conversations public and short and debrief the next morning. Not romantic. Reliable.

Design also means changing the room, not just your willpower. Risk loves certain combos: alcohol + secrecy + late hours; proximity to attractive peers where status is currency; industries where charm opens doors. If that’s your world, don’t moralize it—engineer for it. Draw lines around settings that keep tripping you up. Move novelty from elsewhere to home: new scenes together, new roles, new rituals that create shared adrenaline without torching trust. The brain’s reward system doesn’t care where novelty comes from; it cares that today isn’t yesterday (Bunzeck & Düzel, 2006; Wittmann et al., 2008).

🔍 Opportunity and access are common reasons people give for cheating—even when they’re not deeply unhappy (Selterman, Garcia, & Tsapelas, 2019).

Pop culture mirrors: Closer (2004) is a lesson in how pretty words at noon can slide into novelty at midnight. The Affair peels off the romance and leaves the bill: broken trust, rearranged families, partners left to process someone else’s shortcut. The heartbreak isn’t just sexual. It’s moral—the slow wearing-down of character that calls itself freedom while breaking what it touches. If the line gets crossed, the playbook changes.

The Affair (TV Series 2014 -2019)

When Trust Has Broken: What Real Repair Looks Like

After a breach, poetry won’t save you—predictability and accountability will. Structured disclosure, scheduled check-ins, and proactive transparency help rebuild trust; changing routines reduces opportunity for repeat risk (Fife, Weeks, & Gambescia, 2008; Baucom et al., 2006). Real repair looks like a full accounting—not every lurid detail, but every relevant one: what happened, when, how long, what you did to protect your partner’s health, and who else knows. Ambiguity is gasoline on the fire. Add friction to future risk: change the routes that enabled the breach. If your routines look identical, your apology is theater. Offer transparency without pressure: give access (devices, passwords, itineraries) without turning it into 'now you should trust me'. You broke the vase; you don’t set the pace. Make self-regulation visible: pause before replies, name urges out loud, call your own time-outs. You’re not proving perfection; you’re proving a process. Then re-invest daily—not grand gestures, but steady deposits that make the room feel safe again.

Repair also needs better conversations. Many men try to fast-forward to forgiveness because sitting with a partner’s pain feels unbearable. But skipping feelings is its own fresh injury. What works is consistent, non‑defensive listening and plain ownership—I chose this, not it just happened. The goal isn’t to be forgiven on your timeline; it’s to be reliable on theirs.

🛠️ Trust comes back through steady, predictable actions—and by making temptations harder to reach (Fife et al., 2008; Baucom et al., 2006).

Who Actually Stays—and What to Look For

The men who stay aren’t saints or short on options; they’re men with scaffolding—habits, boundaries, accountability. Attachment security gives them a home base, so a flash of fear doesn’t become an exit. They don’t read intimacy as a tax on freedom (Simpson, 1990). Self-regulation does the unglamorous work: lower trait self-control and higher impulsivity track with infidelity risk (Ciarocco et al., 2012; Buss & Shackelford, 1997). Investment changes the math; when you’ve built something you value—emotionally, socially, practically—you don’t trade it for a spike. The cost feels real because the value is real (Le & Agnew, 2003). Notice the urge; design the action.

🧠 A secure bond makes closeness feel easy, not heavy (Simpson, 1990).

Staying also shows up as small, visible habits. Men who stay keep the little promises—'I’ll text when I land', 'I’ll be home by ten'—because small promises are the skeleton of big trust. They design their digital life with the same care as their physical life: no secret accounts, no disappearing‑message habit, no DM thread that would make their partner’s stomach drop. They protect the relationship’s environment first; the feelings follow.

And for the women reading: you don’t have to play detective. Evaluate the architecture, not the marketing. Has he learned to sit with boredom without creating chaos? When he’s angry, does he regulate without making you the container for his feelings? Can he name desire without turning the naming into permission to act? Does he design high‑risk contexts—work trips, late nights, industry events—so they’re less risky, not more exciting? None of this requires a lie detector. It requires a pattern you can see.

One last cultural note. Good branding doesn’t save anyone. The guy who quotes bell hooks and shares consent infographics isn’t vaccinated against cheating. Sometimes the language of growth becomes a costume that excuses boundary breaks. Studies on politics and cheating don’t point one way; results are mixed. So keep the test simple: what deploys at midnight when nobody is watching? Values look great on tote bags. Character is what shows up when your nervous system is bargaining (Bandura, 1999).

Final word? Relationships aren’t morality pageants; they’re systems. Systems reward preparation. The men who stay aren’t better because they never feel the pull of novelty or the hum of their own ego. They’re better because they make a habit of catching themselves in the doorway. They treat commitment not as a cage but as a shared home they maintain—sometimes with delight, sometimes with boredom, sometimes with grief. They know love without presence is just a performance. And they refuse to perform.

🧭 Related read: Why Women Leave 'Good Men' and Why People Cheat: The Psychology of Guilt, Self-Deception, and Betrayal

FAQ

Why do men cheat more?

In many Western straight-couple studies, men report cheating more than women. It’s mostly about setup: more chances to cheat, the pull of something new, and feeling important so consequences feel smaller. Not destiny—choices and context matter.

Is cheating usually about unhappiness?

Often no. People commonly say they cheated because it was easy in the moment—privacy, alcohol, flirting—not because the relationship was awful.

What actually lowers the risk of cheating?

Make a simple plan for hot moments (if X happens, I do Y), change risky setups (less alcohol + secrecy + late nights), keep work-trip chats public, and show steady, predictable behavior. Bring novelty back home with shared adventures.

Can trust be rebuilt after cheating?

Sometimes. It takes full honesty, real changes to the setup that made it possible, steady follow-through over time, and openness without pressure. Without that, an apology won’t stick.

— By Ivette — Psychology & Branding Graduate, Filmmaker, and Culture Critic

Want receipts? Here’s where it gets academic 👇

Achtziger, A., Gollwitzer, P. M., & Sheeran, P. (2008). Implementation intentions and shielding goal striving from unwanted thoughts and feelings. Personality & social psychology bulletin, 34 (3), 381–393.