Last April, at a writers’ conference in NYC, I met Ruth Houston, author of this book. She wore a button with the title, which made me laugh. “Creative”, I thought, “What a catchy, clever title.” A little later while we were chatting during a break, I asked the author how she came up with the idea. You guessed it: personal experience.
I didn’t envy her creativity so much then, although I certainly admired her gumption. Her ability to turn such a personal tragedy into meaningful work for herself and counsel for others kept me thinking. “What must it be like,” I wondered, “to end everything you’ve known to be true?” It must be absolutely horrible. I’d never even met her ex-husband, but already I didn’t like him.
More recently, a girlfriend and I were having one of those lovely heart-to-heart discussions, and the topic turned to extra-marital affairs. We got started down this conversational path because of a talk our pastor gave at church about self-control. He made the very real point that behavior prior to marriage matters–in part–because saying “I do” doesn’t flip some magical behavior-modification switch. In other words, if you practiced “free-love” before marriage, you may be in for a bit of a rough marital road the next time that particular carrot is dangled. At any rate, we both agreed that, for us–and I am not suggesting this feeling is universal–a switch did, indeed, flip when we married. Not that either of us were out there promoting free love beforehand, but let’s just say we certainly weren’t Amish. However, neither of us has ever even considered anything nearly as sleazy as the soon-to-be former Governor of NY.
As a wife, I can’t help but empathize with his. As a daughter I am horrified for the Spitzer girls. I look at
Silda Wall Spitzer and wonder, “Eliot, what were you thinking?” All the perks of privilege were his: a swanky apartment in NYC, private school for his girls, a talented, beautiful wife and a
boatload of money. It’s never enough, is it guys?
On some level, he must have known it would come to this. How could he do it, I wonder, and I am not alone in my wondering. Wives across the country, and probably the world, are peering into this egregious betrayal and asking themselves, “How could he so completely disregard and disrespect this woman he’s called wife for 21 years?”
And what about us? What about the rest of the wives out here, doing our best to make marriage work, to parent well, and to fulfill our purpose in life? When we peek into the life of this privileged couple, we’re often prompted to reflect back on our own—and sometimes we sheepishly wonder if this could ever happen to us. I want to say, “No, of course not. This will never happen to you or to me.” But it does. In almost sixteen years of marriage I’ve watched it happen to friend after friend after friend and it breaks my heart every time.
When I met Ruth Houston at that writers’ conference last year, I laughed at the title of her book. But I’m not really laughing now. I’m sad, I’m incredibly, sorrowfully sad, that women across the world look at Silda Wall Spitzer – as we looked at Hillary Rodham Clinton only a few years ago – and wonder if our marriage will be next.
-Kirsetin
