Admit it: You thought Kristen Stewart would get caught with a girl. Samantha Ronson, Dakota Fanning….
…maybe Leighton Meester, because opposites attract, right? You can picture them arguing before the Oscars:
Instead we get Rupert Sanders in a Mini Cooper with Colonel Mustard (That’s what he calls his penis.). Then we get Kristen’s frantic apology:
Reese Witherspoon rushes to comfort Rob. Admit it: You hoped for Ed Westwick, Ashton Kutcher, maybe George Clooney (Because Stacey Keibler had her moment in the Tuscan Sun.).
“George.” [Robert gazes up at his master from beneath heavy lids.]
“Did I say you could talk, boy?” [George tightens the nipple clamps.]
Soon Kristen and Rob’s relationship has been drained and discarded, a body sucked dry of blood. (Sorry, I had to.) But wait! Spotted in Los Feliz this week! Kristen and Rob, together again! (I have now used up my monthly allotment of exclamation marks.)
Reactions, to be sure, are mixed. Forty-year-old suburban women who sleep on RoPatt printed sheets cannot believe Rob forgave the little hussy. Lapsang souchong drinkers glance up from Proust only long enough to call the whole relationship a publicity stunt. Everyone else is just confused about why Rob was wearing a Husker Du shirt. Then there’s me.
When Kim Kardashian’s marriage dissolved after 72 days I thought, my God, I’ve had fights with my girlfriend that lasted longer. When Katy Perry and Russell Brand divorced despite the presence of a tiger at their wedding, I wondered how after only two years they could feel certain they’d exhausted all hope. (Side-note: When Romney mentioned his binder of women, John Mayer was all, “Yo man, I got one too; subheading: Recently Wounded.”) When Katie Holmes left Tom Cruise after five years — never mind, I support that. (I also support Suri’s footwear choices, no matter how impractical. Femme Solidarity!) Too many celebrities (and mere mortals) enter into relationships in search of a simplistic sort of happiness. Our partner, we think, is meant to fulfill us, meet all of our needs, turn life into a prolonged slumber party, a sublime game of house. But personal growth arises from failure and true bonding comes after strife.
A rabbi a priest and a duck walk into a bar—okay, not really, but I’m about to mention a priest and I wasn’t sure how to prepare you. Here we go: An Episcopal priest friend once told me about the premarital counseling sessions he leads.
“What will you do,” he asks perspiring grooms and tremulous brides “if one of you cheats?”
“That would be it,” the couple’s usual response.
“No chance for reconciliation?” The priest asks.
“Deal-breaker.” The couple nods as one.
The priest: “Wrong answer.”
Why? According to my friend, in marriage (and here I’m going to go ahead and sub in “long term relationship,” because let’s face it, in ten years, the only person getting married will be Kim Kardashian — again) there are no deal breakers. One more time: in a long term, committed relationship, THERE ARE NO DEAL BREAKERS. To enter into marriage thinking in black and white, unwilling to compromise, incapable of responding to events as they unfold, primes you for divorce.
Within a relationship’s chaotic confines exist multitudes of missteps, many forms of betrayal. Obviously everyone has their boundaries, physical violence, emotional abuse, an unprovoked decision to attend clown college, but have you ever stopped to consider why infidelity should make the list? Why exactly is it unforgivable? What if Rob’s decision to take Kristen back doesn’t represent weakness, but courage? Courage to allow his partner to blunder and lapse and perhaps grow from her errors, to give her space to experiment and develop, to become a full person who, older and more experienced, won’t make the same mistake twice. If she does it again though, Rob, I’m gonna slip you Master Clooney’s number.