Hi there. You don't know me, but I wrote the bulk of this letter to you in the middle of the media storm over The Scandal. And while I hate to be one of those people talking about your personal life, I saw you made your first public appearance a few weeks ago (you lookin' good, girl!) and it just reaffirmed everything I wrote here, and I just continue to feel like I have to get it off my chest, and so please, if you can, just bear with me.
First off, when I wrote this the first objective on my agenda was to reinforce that anyone criticizing you is an ass. Obviously all the unwanted attention sucks, and it's clearly not your style, but surely you know, I hope, that all the talk about you essentially amounts to a major compliment.
As I see it, the problem is that you're The Lead in this story. I mean Spitz-crap was the governor, so he's sort of important, but all said and done our value isn't determined by our jobs, it's by the content of our character and the lives we lead etc. Cliché cause it's true. And with him now it's like: whoah, that dude's ugly AND he sucks on the inside too? Yikes! Honestly, I look at that picture on the right and I feel most for the daughters. The men -- even fathers -- may come and go, but those noses will last forever.
(My nose sucks too, by the way. If the children are interested, I'm down to start a facebook group with them and make something positive of it.)
But if that's not the explanation for all these media people harping about you, then the only other one that seems sufficient is jealousy. All these stories make a big stink about your pedigree (it's almost like black people being articulate: ooooh, look at that woman and her EDUCATION, so impressive), and then stand aghast because you decide to stand by the man you love in a time of adversity. Huh? Is that not action of the highest nobility? Does chivalry not exist for women? From my eyes, it's not that complicated: you're showing the faith, discipline, commitment in public that he never showed you. And now, after your stoic demonstration, there's a gulf of integrity and character that he will never bridge. So I don't understand how every piece about you is not a celebration, shame on those haters.
So, while others skepticize on your actions, I'm writing this letter to offer manifold thanks. Through you and this incident I've learned some things, and I'd like to share some of those takeaways with you:
1. There are no perfect guys, only perfect women.
Perhaps my first "aha" epiphany was this: perfection is a trait only found in females. Sounds like hyperbole at best, or back-handed sexism at worst, but if one takes it at face value, as i do, it actually means something. Sure, maybe you drop the crystal, or lie like a dead-fish sometimes in the bedroom (I bet you don't, I'm just saying). Maybe your boobs aren't the perkiest. But such material mundanity has nothing to do with perfection. The human gift/curse of ego and pride and how you handle it is what distinguishes the divine from animal, and in this case you and the spitz-beast. It seems men are permanently tormented by this, but women, at least the perfect ones, wield ego and pride like swords by samurai masters (hmmm, i'd rather a non-violent metaphor here, but whatever). The point is: women who get it, really get it. You may stroke a guy's ego, or protect your own pride, but you do it like a fine painter (better?) with artful strokes that calm the soul and, at least for a moment, inspire some sense of peaceful communion with the world. I don't know you well enough to attribute this perfection to you, and maybe it's not fair, but I suspect it's true.
2. Perfect girls
Obviously a lot of people thought it; there was subtext everywhere, and the guy at NY Mag clumsily, yet still valiantly, tried to argue the point: cheating is often understandable. The sexual imperative -- Nietzsche referred to it as love -- goes beyond good and evil. It can be tricky assigning morality to matters of the heart, and even stickier when a penis gets involved. But what I realize now is: you don't cheat on certain women. Yes, on some level we know cheating, especially for men(?), is this biological thing, so it can slide. Or at least be rationalized. But there's a cutoff line.
You, Silda, you help demarcate that threshold of tolerance. I know you probably can't agree with me on this, cause of the sisterhood and all, but a guy's proclivity for indiscretion should be tied to the caliber of the lady. In other words: mediocre chicks get cheated on, perfect chicks don't. It's a little cold and mean, but so it goes. Step your game up, mediocre chick! Otherwise, you're gonna get cheated on. (I'm not trying to cast them aside completely, I'm a mediocre dude after all, maybe another day i'll write a letter about the torment of the mediocre ...) but the point here, Silda, is you're clearly past the bar where such an act is tolerable. You're well beyond middling. We've seen pictures: you're beautiful. Plus that Harvard Law brain. Plus, plus being the woman behind a political success story. You're a no-brainer. And once can only tsk tsk the man who would throw away diamonds for, uh, i don't know, dirt sandwiches...
Even if Klum and Adriana Lima come out from behind the bedroom curtain demanding a rigorous ménages à trois or your mom will suffer the consequences, if you have one of those perfect women you have to at least table the conundrum for her. A man has to be man enough to go to the woman and say: hey, lima and klum are making me have a three-some with them or my mom dies, i'm kind of in a bind here ... because i love you but ... I also love my mom ... and really I never expected this .... and it doesn't seem like such a horrible demand on their part .... and if I don't do it what am i gonna tell the fellas at poker night??? From the perfect women I've been fortunate enough to meet, my guess is she will work out an amenable solution. Shoot, she might even make herself part of the ransom. But a perfect woman doesn't let a timeless opportunity pass her man by, so you have no need to fret, just communicate. Obviously the Dupre girl or whatever doesn't fall into this category.
3. Silda, you are my Obama
Finally, I have a bit of an awkward confession to make. When I see you and swoon I do sort of wonder if I'm programmed or conditioned a little to fall in love with white women like yourself because i went to boarding/prep school and blah blah blah, even though you being a political wife and a little too old for me makes you not really my type. I'm all into young and artsy and creative and free-minded etc ... but then again with the Harvard Law (ooooh), I can't deny liking smarts with some pedigree to boot. Hmm...
But here's the thing: I think you transcend the old person/young person, black and white issues. You, Silda, are like my Obama! You give me the audacity of hope. You inspire me to believe in our evolution. Our ability to go beyond the borders we set for ourselves. Like illegal cultural/spiritual immigrants crossing into our hearts and minds filling them with ambition and dreams and love... or something. And even if I know that functionally it just can't, won't, would never work, you at least make me think about how maybe it can. How, while it may be comical now, someday a crazy negro blogger and spurned waspy political woman can give it a shot without thinking it's craaazy.
I remember when the news first broke; I didn't know who you were, and I wondered what the wife looked like. And then you were All-American milf hot, and for some reason I just wanted to be in Paris (or somewhere) saying, "God, I love this woman!" and then it felt weird because I don't know if a young black man like myself is supposed to have thoughts like that ... but then it didn't matter. I embraced the smile in my heart, and then wondered as it curled up into a snarl... how? How does this happen to someone like you? It's honestly an existential torment triggered whenever one of my dream girls has something happen to them, i.e. David Justice and Halle Berry. How do you beat up a Halle Berry? Why would one cheat on Silda with someone like the Dupre-chick? How could one treat Angelina Jolie/Jessica Biel's ass/Phylicia Rashad like anything but a gift from god? What does this mean? When beautiful,women are poorly treated it's a problem on par with global warming, and it shakes me to the core.
AnyWall, this letter is getting a bit long, and I'm starting to venture into territory that might freak you out. I'm freaking myself out! But I just wanted you to know that you helped open my eyes to seeking out the Silda in my life, and that when i find her I will try my best not to be the Spitz-crap in hers (aside from the nose, can't help it). And so again, i thank you ... for being you.
And, y'know, if you're ever looking for someone far removed from your circle to take a load off ... let's get a drink sometime.
PS: my suit, that's just a little too big for you, also sends his admiration. cheers, and stay beautiful!