Infidelity can never be a “mistake”: trivializing wrongdoing is a sign of remorselessness

When scandals break in the public eye, the script is as predictable as it is insulting. 

Tendai Ruben Mbofana

After explicit footage leaked online featuring Johannesburg influencer Matshidiso Shai and popular dancer Limpopo Boy, it immediately sent shockwaves across social media platforms. 

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In response, an official statement dated 10 August 2026 was released on her letterhead, addressed directly to her husband, Kevin Shai, as well as her family, friends, and supporters. 

The letter checked every standard crisis-management box: unreserved apologies, promises to “do the work to rebuild trust,” and an appeal for grace wrapped in the familiar refrain that she is simply human and had “made a mistake.”

A public figure or private individual is exposed in a calculated act of betrayal, and within hours, a polished statement is released to sanitize the damage. 

Standard public relations rhetoric takes over: “I made a mistake,” “I am human,” and “I ask for grace as I grow.”

Yet, when applied to infidelity—especially infidelity that requires active planning, deceit, and the audacious documentation of the act itself—the word “mistake” is not an admission of guilt. 

It is a calculated evasion of responsibility.

A mistake is spilling coffee on a tablecloth. 

A mistake is miscalculating a turn on a highway or misinterpreting a financial ledger. 

These are unintentional lapses in attention or judgment where the outcome was never desired. 

Infidelity, by contrast, is a sequence of deliberate, conscious choices. 

It requires time. 

It requires coordination. 

It requires active cover-ups, lied-about locations, ignored consciences, and the systematic dismantling of trust built over years or decades.

To take off a wedding ring, arrange a secret rendezvous, engage in an intimate betrayal, and perhaps even hold up a camera to record the entire encounter is not a momentary lapse. 

It is a project. 

Every step along that path provides a clear opportunity to stop, reflect, and turn back. 

Choosing to proceed at every single junction transforms the act from a lapse into a choice. 

Calling it a “mistake” after the trap springs is simply a desperate attempt to reset the narrative.

Trivializing wrongdoing through softened language reveals a profound lack of genuine remorse. 

True remorse requires staring directly into the magnitude of the harm caused, acknowledging the agency behind the destruction, and accepting the full weight of the blame. 

Remorse says, “I chose my own gratification over your dignity, and I knowingly lied to protect myself.”

When an offender instead reaches for the shield of “I’m only human,” they are not seeking forgiveness; they are demanding immunity. 

They are attempting to shift the focus from the deliberate injury inflicted on an innocent partner to their own fragile humanity. 

It signals to the victim and the public that the perpetrator views their betrayal not as a moral failure or a violation of a sacred covenant, but as an unfortunate blunder—a minor detour on their personal journey of “learning and growth.”

This linguistic softening is a insult added to injury. 

It asks the betrayed spouse not only to endure the crushing humiliation of the act itself, but also to accept a distorted reality where their pain was caused by an accident rather than a decision. 

It forces the victim to play along with the delusion that the person who systematically lied to them merely “stumbled.”

Furthermore, the audacity required to record such encounters exposes the ultimate flaw in the “mistake” narrative. 

Recording a sexual betrayal requires a level of composure, detachment, and entitlement that completely destroys any claim of being swept away by unthinking passion. 

It demonstrates that even in the midst of the act, the individual was fully aware, fully present, and actively documenting the violation. 

It transforms a private betrayal into permanent evidence, compounding the humiliation should it ever come to light.

Societies and relationships cannot rebuild trust on a foundation of sanitized vocabulary. 

Rebuilding requires accountability, and accountability begins with precision of language. 

Infidelity is not an error in calculation; it is a breach of contract, a violation of consent, and a deliberate betrayal of faith.

Until individuals who commit these acts drop the defensive PR scripts and stop hiding behind the convenient shield of human imperfection, their apologies remain hollow. 

You cannot fix a problem you refuse to name accurately. 

As long as deliberate cruelty and calculated deception are repackaged as mere “mistakes,” the apology is not an act of humility—it is simply the final lie in a long chain of deceit.

And until the truth is faced without excuses, it is only a matter of time before it happens again.

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