Sigh. Another “confession” of transgression. What are we now, the new confessional?
It’s really simple, gentlemen. Zip it, and keep it zipped, whether above or below the waist. I, for one, do not wish to hear about it!
Your wives are, by all public accounts, carefully chosen, likely pre-nuptially well-vetted and exemplary: thin, pretty, smart, accomplished, patient with the endless demands of your work/travel/ego. They produce a couple of decent kids and raise them for you. Yeah, they get a nice lifestyle out of it, but as anyone who’s ever been married to a man-who-becomes-a-wallet/adulterer can tell you, it ain’t enough.
If your man is straying from the life he willingly chose and took vows to create, he’s a fool and a dog and he’s damn lucky you even let him back into the house — let alone smash in his Escalade to rescue his sorry ass in his own driveway.
You gotta love the pathetic irony of these guys who, arguably, chase and win it all: fame, fortune, a lovely wife/home/kids/career. Then blow it.
Go home, stay quiet, figure it out.