Wealthy Men and Infidelity: Are Wealthy Men More Likely to Cheat?

I first met the man I will call Henry two months after my arrival in Florence during my junior year abroad. Despite its proximity to the trattoria where the lean, tousled-haired Mario worked as a server, I had grown tired of the cramped apartment I had been sharing with three other classmates. Henry, his wife Claudia and their two children lived in a sprawling villa above the city and were renting out the small guest cottage on their vast property. Smitten with the tiled floors, reasonable rent and stunning view of the Florentine hills, I signed the lease almost immediately after viewing the cottage.

Initially Henry was gracious and businesslike. A British commodities trader in his forties, Henry had lived in Italy for five years with the lovely, Austrian-born Claudia and their two young sons. After I had signed the lease, he insisted I take an inventory of the items in the cottage and draw up a list of anything I might need. He told me it was both to ensure that nothing was damaged during my stay, and also to make certain that I was comfortable. Whenever I encountered him on the property, he was always friendly and helpful - often recommending a restaurant or cafe - and occasionally even giving me a lift to my morning classes.

Several weeks later, Henry invited me to have dinner in the main house. Touched by his kind gesture, I purchased some flowers at the local market to present to the family. But when a housekeeper ushered me in through the enormous entryway and into the ornately furnished sitting room, there was no one but Henry seated on the couch.

"Katerina should have dinner on the table shortly," he said in his usual relaxed tone, referring to the family's cook. "Can I offer you a drink in the meantime?"

"Yes, thank you," I answered, joining him on the couch. I glanced around the room. "Where are Claudia and the kids?"

"Vienna," he answered. "Visiting Claudia's parents."

"Oh," I replied, feeling more uncomfortable by the minute. "I was sort of looking forward to seeing them."

"I am hurt," he chuckled. "Because I was looking forward to seeing you."

"Oh, um, really?" I asked, trying to maintain my calm and kicking myself for having opted out of a ladies' disco night with some girlfriends.

"I find you very attractive," Henry continued. "And I would really enjoy getting to know you better." He extended his hand and placed it on my thigh.

"Henry, you're married," I said, jerking back horrified. "What are you doing?"

He seemed confused by my remark. "Yes, so?" He leaned in closer toward me as though expecting a kiss.

"Well, don't you love your wife?" I demanded, likely sounding as naïvely self-righteous as only an idealistic 20-year-old can.

"Of course I do."

"But, I don't understand," I said after an awkward pause.

"I love my wife, but I find you very attractive." He sipped his wine before continuing. "She has a very nice life."

He was right about that. Claudia did have a nice life. Perhaps even an enviable one to the casual onlooker. An amateur potter, she spent several days per week in her studio crafting pots and vases. When she wasn't working, she frequently shopped in town, traveled and attended yoga and dance classes. I often saw her navigating her yellow Ferrari down the circuitous driveway after an outing, and later would watch her emerge with shopping bags from Gucci, Fendi and various upscale shops. Yes, Claudia had a nice life. Except for the fact that her husband seemed to find nothing wrong with propositioning much younger women (who knows how many others there had been?) in her own living room while she was out of town. In fact, he appeared to feel entitled to such behavior and seemed genuinely perplexed that I would find it offensive.

"I don't date married men," I had finally answered in as even a tone as I could muster. I had risen then and fled to the cottage. A month later I was back in the cramped downtown apartment gorging on chocolate gelato, swilling red wine and mooning over Mario with renewed fervor.

I wish I could say that my encounter with Henry was an isolated incident. But over the years, I have encountered other versions of Henry: older, wealthy, powerful men who seem to find cheating on their pampered wives perfectly normal and appropriate. There was tall, French and flirtatious Jean-Edouard, whose daughters I babysat during my senior year who frequently winked at me when his wife wasn't looking, and even invited me to his country house for a long weekend. There was also Eric W., an entrepreneur on his second marriage whom I encountered at a party who tried to pretend he was single all night. That is, until he could no longer hide the fact that his wife was standing across the room obliviously chatting with all of her friends.

Apparently I wasn't alone in these experiences. Female friends have shared horror stories of rich, lecherous employers, wealthy family friends and even random, well-to-do men encountered on planes or in cafes, who are not only keen to have an affair, but seem to expect one. "They do it because they can!" exclaimed my friend Rory after one such encounter with her fifty-something, overweight, albeit obscenely wealthy boss. "They have the cash, the time and the frequent travel that lets them get away with it." Other friends stressed the entitlement factor. That is, since the wives of such men are provided with posh, privileged lives, these "doting husbands" often feel they have earned a little extramarital fun.

Not one to make gross generalizations, I chalked it up to coincidence. After a bit of research, however, I am less reassured. Last year, MSNBC conducted an online survey on the subject of love and fidelity. According to the survey, among men making more than $300,000 a year, 32 percent reported cheating, compared to 21 percent of men making less than $35,000 a year.

Similarly, in a blog post on Yahoo Health, Men's Health Editor-in-Chief David Zinczenko cited an article in the Journal of Marital and Family Therapy, which likewise indicated that men who earned more money had a higher likelihood of cheating than those who earned less. The reason? According to the article, some researchers think that those with lower salaries are more dependent on the other person, and are thus less likely to do anything to ruin the relationship.

A bit of a stretch? Perhaps. But anecdotal evidence does suggest a link does exist between a man's net worth and his roving eye. Shortly after I moved back to downtown Florence, I received an e-mail from Henry. He began by telling me when I could expect my deposit back and continued by suggesting a new restaurant that was well out of my price range.

"I would be happy to take you there," Henry had written in conclusion. "Perhaps you could stop by the house after class and we could drive there together?"

I responded with directions on where to send the deposit, hit send and deleted the mail. Over the next couple of months I received similar proposals but ignored them. Eventually the e-mails stopped. Had Henry finally given up? Perhaps Claudia had become suspicious? Or maybe he had found another co-ed who happily took him up on such offers?

Whatever had occurred, I had never been so happy to be lusting after a struggling food server.