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.
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.