How cavalier are we these days about being faithful? Caitlin Flanagan takes on infidelity in a recent issue of TIME Magazine. Flanagan has a few good points, saying marriage—"a fragile construct"—is being assaulted from all fronts, "buffeted by affairs and ennui, subject to the eternal American hope for greater happiness, for changing the hand you dealt yourself." Instead, there's much talk of passion, of falling in love. To wit:
"Sanford"—the governor Mark Sanford who's been in the press lately—"told reporters the affair had begun "very innocently," which reveals that he still hasn't been honest with himself about the willfulness of his actions. When a married man begins a secret, solicitous correspondence with a beautiful and emotionally needy single woman, he has already begun to cheat on his wife."
Good on her for calling him out. And for the most part, I agree. There's nothing more tiresome than someone who refuses to call a spade a spade. Infidelity doesn't just "innocently" happen overnight. It may sneak up on you, but pay close attention and you'll realize you've been hearing its footsteps—faint as they may be—for quite some time. For some reason, you just expected them to be much farther than they were, and suddenly the source of those footsteps is right behind you, ready to plant a kiss on your neck or a hand on your back.