Crimes of passion
If the Internet had enough space, I’d list all the reasons I don’t cheat on my wife. However, since even the near-infinite ether likely has its boundries, I’ll stick to the most timely reason:
I don’t cheat on my wife because if she ends up dead, I will go to prison.
Frankly, I’ve never had much desire to kill. It’s not the blood so much as the entire lifetime of guilt thing just doesn’t appeal to me. If I’m done with somebody, I just let them go on their way and screw up somebody else’s life. If somebody else decides to kill them, it’s not on me.
However, if I cheat on my wife and she ends up dead, I’m going to prison.
The evidence is overwhelming. I don’t know if Scott Peterson is guilty (frankly, I think he probably is), but he might as well be. Not because he broke his marriage vows. Some marriages just suck. Not because he was carrying on an affair while his wife was pregnant. Not because he has the smug look of most of the guys I hated in high school. He might as well be guilty because he ignored the very real possiblity that his wife could end up dead while he was sticking it to some other woman.
Temptation is everwhere. We live in a world where it is impossible for a man like me to turn around without seeing a low-cut shirt, hip-hugger jeans with thong panties peaking up from the denim, and taut –oh, so taut- tummies between a thin mini t-shirt and low-slung black belt. If you think your wife is a bitch, you should meet Temptation. She is the accessory before the fact that will testify against you at your murder trial.
I canot judge people. Thankfully, it’s not in my nature. Judge not, lest ye yada yada.
However, accept this piece of advice: If you decide temptation is too strong, do everything in your power to maintain your wife’s safety. Test her drinking water for toxins. Check the brakes on her car. Buy her an elephant to protect the home. Keep her alive.
Because if she dies, you’re not just an adulterer. You’re a murderer.
Next week: Why not to buy a life insurance policy on your spouse.
