Deny! Deny! Deny!

Have we learned nothing from Bill Clinton?

Remember when, even during the 1992 campaign, all those stories about his mistresses started cropping up? Until the Monica Lewinsky mess and impeachment twisted his arm and forced him to reveal himself to be the hound dog we already knew he was, he adamantly denied the affair stories. When the truth was revealed, it was sad and pathetic. Did he really think we (and Hillary) didn’t know?

All of this entered my mind with the latest (and hopefully last) saga in the John and Elizabeth Edwards soap opera, “The Days of Our Crazy-Ass Lives.” John released a statement finally admitting he was the father of Rielle Hunter’s toddler, and apologized for the repeated denial of that fact to the America public and most grievously his family. Perhaps this was in part to get ahead of the upcoming book of his former campaign aide, who at first stated that he was the father but who later recanted and admitted he was covering for his boss.

Meanwhile, we learned Elizabeth kicked the Ken Doll out of the house and is on her way to filing divorce once North Carolina’s year of separation requirement is fulfilled. And apparently, she accompanied John last month to make a monitored visit of the 2-year-old love child. Remarkably, she had Christmas gifts for the child and encouraged a picture with his daddy.

I think John may be vilified in part because he’s a public figure whose first whiff of scandal wafted from the pages of the National Enquirer. But really, he’s exhibiting traits in human nature found in most of us.

When we do something wrong that threatens our relationship, the first instinct seems to be covering it up. Most of us talk about honesty but we fear that the misdeed or issue at hand will be the one that nets no points for coming clean. It will anger and hurt the other person and make he or she leave. So now the objective is keeping quiet and covering it up if need be.

The problem, though, is that, especially if it’s a biggie like an affair or a love child, you can run but you can’t hide. Forget karma. Circumstances will unlock those secrets soon enough. And then having to admit something you formerly denied becomes worse. You’re double branded for being a deceiver and liar and it looks like you’re playing your loved one for a fool.

From the outside, it’s hard to tell if the paternity of the mistress’ child was the driving force behind Elizabeth’s decision to split from John. But when we knew for certain there was only the affair and John’s claims that he wasn’t with Rielle during the time when she conceived, Elizabeth vowed they would work through it. But shortly after the paternity came to light, that desire to work through it seemed to evaporate.

I can imagine Elizabeth, already dealing with infidelity, was livid that in such a low point, John couldn’t bring himself to admit to everything. The final revelation made everybody foolish – in public, no less. And you couldn’t help but wonder if John copped to everything early on if the marriage couldn’t be saved. Yeah, it’s bad. But it’s easier to figure out what to do and rebuild trust when everything is on the table.

It’s funny how sometimes we think we can’t get caught or we fancy ourselves “protecting” our loved ones from a mistake, when it’s really about absolving ourselves from some of the accountability and ultimately making it easier for us (not the other person).

The whole episode made me think of the immortal words that Judge Judy likes to appropriate: “Don’t pee on my leg and tell me it’s raining!”

Oh Come All Ye Unfaithful

Oh, Johnny boy, say it isn’t so.

It’s funny how infidelity is as old as the hills and yet, there’s always this gasp when you hear about a famous figure – in this case John Edwards – who cheats and gets caught. Most of us have been touched by it, whether instigator or victim, so why the shock and awe? I’m more interested in what we nobodies, who would never be profiled in The National Enquirer or on Nightline, think about it and why we (don’t) do it.

Many years ago, I was very black-and-white about cheating. My line of thinking was if my significant other was unfaithful, I would end the relationship. It’s a violation and breach of trust. I still believe that last part but, just like many things in life, my thinking has evolved with experience. Cheating is still a difficult thing to deal with, but I’ve learned there are many layers underneath that motivate our actions.

We men have largely been taught to think the worst of ourselves when it comes to sex. I’ve heard my mother, aunts, cousins, sisters, female friends or girlfriends complain with some variation of "Men are dogs," "Men are weak," or just an exasperated "Men!"

A sense of fatalism can quickly develop. Many of us feel we have a license to cheat because that’s what men do after all – instant self-fulfilling prophecy. Many of my male gay friends and colleagues seriously think monogamy is not possible and have never had a monogamous relationship. It’s hard to fight against stepping out if you assume it is expected or inevitable.

As plenty of straight men cheat – some can argue they have taken it to high art – a conundrum bedevils gay men, I think. Part of our identity is our sexuality. Heterosexuals aren’t defined by their sex partners as we are because gays are "the other." Sex playing such a prominent role in the culture provides wrinkles and more than a little insecurity. For a lot of us, our value and self-worth come from our sex appeal – how many men we can attract, get, and please. Being committed to one person can suddenly seem a little oppressive. The desire to be noticed and wanted feeds our ego and vanity, and trouble may follow.

I’ve never cheated on anyone because I couldn’t stand being disloyal or deceitful. But part of staying faithful has been outright forcing myself to keep the big picture in hand and not assuming I’ll be good just because I love my partner. I’ve scaled back going out to clubs, and avoided chat rooms because I’m not going to willfully create a situation that will be that much difficult to get out of. Without my asking, my partner took down his online profiles and even avoided the showers at his gym because of that same mentality.

An informal survey of some friends who had a relationship over the last several years that involved cheating revealed few cases of breakaway lust, like going away on a business trip and getting seduced by Doug in accounting. Most were in situations with looming unresolved and/or uncommunicated issues that led to seeking solace or escape in straying. In a case where I was cheated on, we were clearly at the beginning of the end and he checked out.

Infidelity is no longer an automatic deal breaker for me. Sure, I’d be sad, hurt, and angry but it depends on the situation. If my partner has a one-time fling and can be honest about his mistake and show contrition, I don’t think I can throw it all away. After all, one of the measures of a man is the ability to admit when he’s wrong and do what it takes to be right again. And besides, one mistake does not represent anyone’s full character.

Now if someone were to have an affair(s) or stray multiple times, that’s different. It’s continuously diverting some affection, attention and work from our relationship elsewhere and it’s sacrificing not just fidelity but faithfulness in the concept of "us."

I’m not sure what John Edwards was thinking. His admittance of narcissism made me think the usual politician’s mea culpa was now a breath of fresh air. Then he wanted to make me knock the fresh air out of him when he stressed his dalliance happened when Elizabeth was in remission for her cancer – as if it makes it all better. He became preening and calculated, and his glib answer made it all seem so simple.

But Johnny boy, it ain’t simple.