Forget the fact that two of them lied under oath; two of them were caught in inescapably hypocritical situations; and one of them just had sex with an assistant. Forget that and you'll see why Page 2 of the NY Times week in review is the reason I can't wait to get married.
Cheating? Lying? Waking up with a heavy stomach and a dreary feeling that I did or said something last night that, well, wasn't quite right? Freedom from compunction? Inviting a chief of staff whom I'm sleeping with over to have dinner with my wife and kids? Setting ethical standards that I can carefully overstep? Analyzing a sex scandal on CNN in between romps with my assistant in my private office? Busting a brothel before going across town to patronize another? Paying my infidelity off in cheap city property? Finally getting my tired, betrayed, despondent wife involved in politics?
Hell yeah. Sign me up.
I can't wait to get married. I can't do any of that without being married. I mean, I have sex with my assistant now and all it causes is lame office gossip. No headlines! Boring!
I need to truly vouch my unyielding love for a person before I can break her heart in US Weekly . I need to dedicate a good two decades of my life to building something before I can Jenga the fucking thing to death. I need to steadfastly hold others accountable for unscrupulous actions before I can steal their ideas.
I need to have someone's hopes and trust confidently in my hand before I can open my palm oven the precipice, watching that hope and trust and love and future and emotion faith and adoration and admiration and memory immolate to dust.
That sounds great. Marriage is the best. I'm down on one knee.
(Sorry this is a little dreary. I know a marriage can end happily or sadly or any myriad ways in between. I'll write something funnier, or lighter at least, soon.)