by KRISTIAN GRAVENOR

It’s the information age, yet we’re terrified of so much. How the chicken you ate for lunch was slaughtered and chopped up; the sufferings of the factory worker who slaved over the clothes you wear; other people’s bodily functions. We’re actively uncurious about a ton of things.

But what of the dark ways of the cheating heart? Do we dare face the searing truth about betrayal when it enters our own little worlds?

Romantic deceit is everywhere. This burg is a hotbed of illicit love. Massage parlours are bigger than depanneurs.

A friend has long monitored the epic, compulsive patterns of local lovers and those who betray them.

Remi Kalacyan has spent 11 years brothel-creeping and cruising two car lengths behind in an unremarkable dark-coloured sedan, watching cheaters haul a succession of cutie-pies for shabby partying on hurriedly-made mattresses in motels called Sunrise, Ideal and Colibri.

You don’t want to bullshit the guy. He seems to read your dark side with a disarming, understanding smile. It’s almost unbearable.

Our city’s private dicks are mostly double-dipping police pensioners. Kalacyan never wore the badge. Years of working solo have forced him to craft wiley ways and quick-witted improvisation. He dreams one day of teaching others the secret wisdom of the gumshoe.

Drop into his office on a shadowy, curved Old Montreal avenue with 200 or 300 bones and Kalacyan will return with all the lurid details of your partner’s mysterious goings and comings.

Men often hire him to find out about an ex. You see, women routinely dump their men with the reassuring insistence that there’s no other guy involved. Men doubt this. They want the truth. Guys, here’s the truth: Kalacyan has learned that yes, in spite of what your ex says, there’s usually another guy involved.

Who are the usual partners of these forbidden dalliances? Work colleagues. That’s who.

Cheaters get busted by their own sloppiness. They leave trails on their computers. Kids hear mama talking steamy on the phone and report it to dad. There are tell-tale holes in his wallet.

One guy told wifey he’d be returning from a biz trip on a Friday. She spotted his ticket. It said Wednesday. Kalacyan saw the plane land at Dorval and watched hubby cat around for two days. But hubby brazenly denied misconduct, insisting his early return was all business.

Women often kick their man out upon learning of his deceit. But they usually take him back. Some exceptions: One Montrealer was spied hooking up with an entire line-up of local escorts a week before his wedding. Wedding cancelled.

Then there are stoics. A local Sicilian customer was told that hubby cheats but she did nothing, insisting that Sicilian women look the other way.

Women find the whole process nerve-wracking. They’ll call Kalacyan every 10 minutes on a stakeout. They want to know: Is she better looking than me? Would you sleep with her?

One spurned wife planned a crafty counterplot. She tried to hire a guy to seduce her hubby’s mistress, to see if her husband’s mistress would cheat on him. It never happened.

Another fact: people can’t keep their mouths shut. One woman told a neighbour couple that she planned to put a tail on her husband. The male neighbour tipped off the suspect and Kalacyan’s cover was blown. He ended up following the suspect as he drove in circles around a block.

Sometimes crazy people try to hire him to find out who it is that’s talking in their heads. He doesn’t take those cases.

Another wanted to hire him to find his wife. She was in a battered women’s shelter. Presumably the guy missed battering her. Kalacyan didn’t do that one either.

A woman suspected that someone was sleeping in her bed when she was gone. Kalacyan discovered it was the landlady. She was using her tenant’s apartment for her own secret afternoon romps.

Kalacyan even once tailed a guy who—amazingly—wasn’t cheating at all. Kalacyan remembers that one with a big smile.

Comments? kgravy@openface.ca