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Sunday, March 27, 2011

Random whore vs. not so much...

AS I sit watching "Mildred Pierce" on HBO, and thinking more and more that Kate Winslet, who I once adored, is looking more like a man after each movie, another thing crosses my mind.  In fact, it's been on my mind for a few days now.  My wife had a dinner meeting with some girlfriend's on Thursday, and naturally, the popular website Ashley Madison came up (http://www.ashleymadison.com/.)  For those unfamiliar, this site offers...  oh right, everyone knows what the site does.

As the women at the table lambasted the site as immoral and tasteless, my wife took the opposite opinion.  Is she the exeption?  Would more woman prefer their husband stray with a complete stranger rather than someone they know, even periphrerally?  And where does the male opinion fit in?  I have a couple of references to go by, and I know for certain I am not of fan of either.  I did not know or even have clue the affair existed the first time.  It was dormant for years and I had done such a nice job of denial that at this point I really could care less.  The seond one was a fine gent who I met a couple times.  I remember meeting him at a work party and him being so overprotective of MY wife.  Naturally she had to go get a bottle of vodka at a local liquor store the moment we arrived.  His chivalry in joining her for the walk was a nice touch I thought.  It was only when he started talking about Jack Johnson I put it all together.  "Now I know where all the homemade cd's came from!!"  I said to myself.  This is the guy who's banging my wife!!!  It was a Eureka moment, and only because I could tangibly see him (and later it was revealed) did the sting break the skin.  Really doesn't make it much worse though.  In the end it was a dude who was providing, in certain sensitive areas, more relief and joy than I was.  It would have made sense if it were someone I knew.  We typically frequent the same social circles. 

I guess in this case it made sense that it was work related.  She had been out to make money, make contacts.  Of course this was a natural progression.  After a while you kind of get resigned to it.  OK, it was kind of a stranger, but I did meet him.  He shook my hand and we had some conversations.  I remember seeing him on a job site shortly after the party and not totally losing my shit.  She got close to someone.  She escaped harsh realities and had something that in her mind was worth all the damage.  Tear off the Band-Aid, make some sense of it all, and move on.

If it were someone I knew and trusted would that have hurt more?  Or would it have made more sense?  Would I have reacted differently?  Would I have had other coping mechanisms to better my acceptance and prepare me for moving on?  Unknown.

I do know it is a compelling question.  During one of the many "talks" that have littered this house over the past few months I remember being asked if "I needed sex I could go a a whore or something."  She would "get" that. 

Now, of course I was thinking this was the biggest trick question around...  but it was still weird hearing it.  And, thank you no.  If I were a single man, never attached, I think I would have to pass on the whore.
Isn't that what bars are for?  So the Ashley Madison thing scares the hell out of me.  And it's not just cause I am a tightwad unwilling to spend my money, although that does come into play.

I think if you are that unhappy that you have joined a website in hopes of hooking up with another married person there are deeper issues than I want to deal with.  I don't care how good you look naked.

We all know this is a totally irrelevent argument in my world.  I am merely a reporter examining the social mores of the Contemporary Suburban Man.  As it turns out he is quite damaged.  On my block alone there about 10 men going through some sort of crisis.  Half of them do not even realize it, and that is the good half.  The other half are too far gone they sleepwalk through life waiting for it to all end. 

Me, I guess I am straddling the tightrope.  Never a net below and glasses as thick as Hillary Clinton's cankles.

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