I lived my single life, including an ill-fated previous marriage, and sadly, all, yes all means every single one, of the other romantic alliances prior to this one, balancing on the narrow, crumbling, pinnacle of the moral high ground contorted in the most compromising positions your devious minds can conjure. It was exhausting.
I adore being above reproach, beholden to no one. There have been times, decades perhaps, where seemingly all of my conduct was reproachable. Good behavior just wasn’t satisfying. The trick to unconscionable bad behavior is beating casual observers to condemnation. One must be punctual in announcing one’s unfortunate actions, accepting all of the blame, and recognizing the flagrant selfishness inherent in doing the wrong thing, no matter how much fun it was.
I used to lie. Self-preservation was a big motivator. Explaining to one’s spouse how one’s clothes became filled with sand is a situation that demands an untruth lest one suffers a violent mishap. Don’t jump to conclusions. I walked in on a transaction involving prescription narcotics, on my kitchen table, at my apartment, next door to the courthouse, between my illustrious former spouse and a fat man called Cisco, who dosed himself throughout the day with prescription cough syrup administered on, what was undoubtedly, an ill-gotten, sterling silver teaspoon. I was torn between the right thing and retribution. Retribution won.
It took several months for me to provoke my unsuspecting former spouse into a position to which I could transfer the fault of a failed alliance thereby extricating myself from a spot I should never have been in the first place. I knew better but I was lazy. I should have said, “Sorry I made a mistake; I am exceedingly fond of being right. I’m leaving.”
Sometimes doing the right thing is the wrong thing to do. The right thing, while often hard, can also be the path of least resistance, which makes it the lazy thing. I agreed to marry my former spouse against my better judgment. I could have rescinded prior to the “wedding” but I chose not to because I had said I would do it so I felt I should honor my word. Honoring one’s word is the right thing. In this case, it was the catalyst for a series of calamities that were unarguably wrong.