It's not cheating if you're playing alone...right?

Ok, I cheated at solitaire. Once. Maybe Twice. Fine, a few times.

I’ve cheated at solitaire. Not often, but enough to admit it. Why? To win, to feel complete, to avoid wasting time on an unwinnable game. And honestly? Winning still feels as satisfying as ever—I just can’t gloat about it. I finished something, sure, but with a little help… from myself.

Cheating at solitaire feels harmless because it’s solitary by nature—there’s no opponent to fool, no trophy on the line. Yet, it’s oddly revealing. By tweaking the rules, I sidestep frustration, create closure, and save myself from that nagging feeling of defeat. It’s a small victory that lets me move on, even if I didn’t quite “earn” it.

But here’s the thing: is it really cheating if you’re the only one involved? Sometimes, it feels more like a strategic adjustment than a violation of rules. It’s a quiet deal I make with myself—trading the struggle of persistence for the satisfaction of resolution. No one loses, except maybe my sense of patience.

Does it make me unethical? I don’t think so. In fact, it reminds me of how often we give ourselves small allowances in life. Skimming a chapter of a book, taking a shortcut on a long walk—sometimes we prioritize completion over process, and that’s okay.

So, yes, I’ve cheated at solitaire. Maybe it’s a sign of impatience, or maybe it’s a reminder that sometimes we just need to help ourselves along. Either way, the game ends, the cards go back in the box, and I move on—win in hand, shortcuts and all.