Here is this week’s Smartmom from the award-winning Brooklyn Paper.
On Wednesday, while New Yorkers waited to hear from their new
governor, Smartmom wondered if she would be singing Tammy Wynette’s
most-famous song if Hepcat ever did anything as stupid as Eliot Spitzer.
Luckily,
Smartmom doesn’t think Hepcat would ever do anything as hypocritical or
embarrassing as getting elected to office as a reformer and then being
caught hiring prostitutes.
For one thing, it would be so out of
character. Smartmom can’t imagine why Hepcat would spend all that money
for a woman he doesn’t even know when he could be spending it on the
love of his life: his little orange Porsche 914 he inherited from his
Uncle John.
First, Smartmom’s heart goes out to all the political
wives who’ve been put in this position. It’s gotta be a woman’s worst
nightmare to be married to, take your pick, Jim McGreevey, Bill
Clinton, Eliot Spitzer, Larry Craig, etc. etc, and find out your
husband has been cheating on you. Seconds later, there you are,
standing in front of millions of people trying to not look humiliated
when, of course, you are.
Imagine what Silda Wall Spitzer is
going through right now: It’s bad enough that her husband — the
so-called “Sherrif of Wall Street,” aka “Eliot Ness” — has been shown
to be a world-class hypocrite who launders money (allegedly!) to pay
for expensive prostitutes. He did more than betray progressives
everywhere — he betrayed her.
But Smartmom didn’t marry Spitzer.
Luckily, she got Hepcat, a smart, handsome, loyal and well-meaning guy.
He’d never do anything stupid like the love gov.
Would he?
In
the end, it doesn’t matter. Smartmom believes that if you expect your
spouse to be there for you when you screw up, it stands to reason that
you have to be there when he screws up. Even if that means standing
next to him at a press conference as he apologizes for the way he
violated his — and any (nicely done, Eliot) — sense of right and wrong.
That’s
because Smartmom bought the unconditional marriage package. On her
wedding day, she promised to do this thing for better or worse, for
richer or poorer, in sickness and in heath — ’till death do they part.
Of
course, Smartmom and Hepcat have had their fights. She has, more than
once, threatened to sleep at the Hotel Le Bleu (alone) or call a
divorce lawyer.
But it never happens. Why? Because she’s like Michael Corleone in “Godfather III”: Something. Always. Pulls. Her. Back. In.
It must be love.
But it does raise the question: what would it take for Smartmom to boot Hepcat out the door?
Hard
times wouldn’t do it — because marriage is hard, and some tension is
part of the package. More than once, they’ve sighed together and said,
“Maybe this is just too difficult.”
But Hepcat grew up on a farm and life is supposed to be tough — you have a bad crop one year and a good one the next.
That’s his philosophy. And it’s become Smartmom’s mantra, too.
But
what about an extramarital affair? Smartmom could forgive seeing a
prostitute. Sex is just sex. But an affair means you’re whispering
sweet nothings into someone else’s ear or ordering Chinese food
together or watching “Scrubs” late at night in the bedroom.
An
affair would be the deal-breaker. Smartmom is too jealous and couldn’t
stand the thought of sharing her Hepcat with anyone else.
So that
decides it. If Hepcat ever has an affair, it’s over. No press
conferences, no second chances. She wouldn’t be thrilled if he was
paying for sex with high-end prostitutes, either. But that’s about as
likely as Hepcat emptying the dishwasher.
After Spitzer finally resigned on Wednesday, Hepcat put it all in perspective.
“You
know, Silda Spitzer will have a pretty deep pile of karma chips if they
stay together,” Hepcat told Smartmom. “All she’ll have to do is say is
‘Hey, Client 9, would you please clear the clutter in the living room.’
He’ll do whatever she tells him to do.” Hepcat said.
Smartmom loved the sound of that.
