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But what was the problem? A Simple SolutionBy Rick Horowitz "We really don't have to do this," he says, hesitating right there on the sidewalk. "No, we really
do have to do this," she says, and reaches for his hand. It's the first
time she's held his hand in months, but it's the only way she can be
sure he won't run. Their fingers awkwardly entwined, they climb the
single flight of stairs and knock on the smoky glass door with the stenciled
lettering: G.W.
Bush "C'mon in, folks," he says. "Make yourselves at home." He has a firm handshake. A ready smile. A steady gaze. He's the sort of man a troubled woman might turn to for advice. Now, if she can just get her husband to stop fidgeting long enough to listen. The stranger seems to know exactly what she's thinking; he sits back behind his large wooden desk and speaks directly to her mate. "Your wife has told me a little bit about what's been going on lately, and let me assure you, it's not at all unusual to see some of these things come up from time to time in a relationship. You've been married for how long? Five years?" "Six," he says, and when she looks at him, he clarifies. "Next month will be six." "And together for two years before that," she adds. She needs him to know everything. "So almost eight years together. Very good." She finds his voice soothing. He's taking notes, questioning her husband about the early years, things she'd nearly forgotten about. Yet even hearing her history retold, she feels oddly calm. Maybe her husband is right; she's been making too much out of it. Maybe she simply has to adjust her attitude. Maybe -- "What we need here," the counselor is telling them, "is a constitutional amendment." She isn't sure she's heard him correctly. She asks him to repeat himself. "A constitutional amendment," he says again. "To protect the sanctity of your marriage." She isn't sure how a constitutional amendment is supposed to keep her husband from spending every weekend cemented to the TV, or remind him to put gas in the car. She isn't sure how it's supposed to make him remember her birthday before her birthday. "It's a constitutional amendment to ban same-sex marriages," the counselor continues. If this is an explanation, she's not getting it. Her husband, on the other hand, seems delighted. "What'd I tell you, honey -- I knew he'd help us out!" (He knew no such thing.) "All we need is a constitutional amendment banning same-sex marriages and we're good to go!" There's a vague tapping in her head, and the faint traces of a calliope. Has the circus come to town? "Wait a minute," she says. "You're telling me that same-sex marriages is why you totally ignore me whenever we're out somewhere?" The counselor speaks before her husband does. "It's possible your husband is so distracted by the sight of same-sex couples formalizing their relationships and undermining the stability of society that his attention strays from time to time. A constitutional amendment would put a stop to that." "Wait a minute," she says. "So now you're telling me -- speaking of 'straying' -- that same-sex marriages is why you've got that little tramp of yours on the side?" "It's possible your -- " "No," she says. "I want to hear it from him." Her husband suddenly seems less delighted. "Maybe -- maybe when I see all those same-sex couples getting married and ruining civilization and everything, I need to show it's supposed to be a man and a woman." "Any woman?!" She starts to come out of her chair. The stranger raises his hand. "A constitutional amendment will put a stop to all of that," he says. "There's your answer." "But -- " "Glad I could help you folks -- sometimes the best solution is right in front of our eyes." So, she notices, is the paperweight. Posted 2/28/04. For
top-notch commentary, click to "Rick's" -- he's constitutionally incapable
of being dull!
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Rick Horowitz
