If you're a governor who's in the doghouse for marital infidelity, is it better to have loved and lost or never to have loved at all?
Granted, South Carolina's Gov. Mark Sanford may be too busy to wonder, given that he's trying to simultaneously save his job, his political future and, apparently, his marriage.
But to some, one of the most fascinating aspects of our nation's latest ritual public apology from a straying politician is that Sanford, unlike many straying politicians before him, seems to really be in love with the object of the straying.
"Yup, he's got it bad," offers Stephanie Coontz, a professor of family studies at Evergreen State College in Washington state. "There's enough out there to make you realize he just has a head-over-heels crush on this woman."
Sets this scandal apart
Has, or had — whether or not the relationship is a thing of the past, it certainly sets this scandal apart from a number of past political infidelity dramas. And it could make a difference in how much sympathy Sanford gets — or doesn't.
There were the politicians who strayed in prostitution scandals (New York Gov. Eliot Spitzer, Louisiana Sen. David Vitter) and others who strayed with a campaign worker or an intern (former presidential candidate John Edwards, former President Bill Clinton).
It's safe to say none of these spoke of the other party in the respectful and emotional terms that Sanford did in his rambling apology. He called the woman a "dear, dear friend" over whom he had "spent the last five days crying in Argentina" — five days during which the people of South Carolina, and even his staff, had no idea where he was.
And then there were the adoring e-mails published by The State newspaper, the veracity of which the governor's office did not dispute. "Have you been told lately how warm your eyes are and how they glow with the special nature of your soul," read one. Another: "You have a level of sophistication that is so fitting with your beauty."
While there was no shortage of scorn in Sanford's home state, some readers were moved by the e-mails, and at least one suggested the governor should resign, divorce his wife and follow his heart to Argentina.
Could the "love factor" ultimately play a role in helping get this governor the forgiveness he seeks?
'Love changes us chemically'
To family therapist Elana Katz, the fact that Sanford displays passion, be it true love or mere infatuation, doesn't make his behavior more excusable or forgivable. But it might make it more explainable.
"All those things they say about love being blind — well, it's true, love changes us chemically," says Katz, who counsels couples and families at New York's Ackerman Institute. "People get into complicated situations. The sad part is that when there's no one to talk to about it, you can really lose your way even more. The secrecy adds a whole level of confusion."
Still, says Katz, "it's his wife and his family who will ultimately decide if he is forgivable."
And, of course, his constituents. That's the bottom line, says Steven Cohen, professor of public administration at Columbia University. Sure, he acknowledges, "There was an intensity of feeling here. He was hardly Client 9," as Spitzer was famously referred to in court papers.
But, he says, "It's credibility more than anything else. The issue is whether a public official levels with his constituents. And disappearing for nearly a week is not leveling with your constituents."
Whether or not Sanford resigns or is forced out — he says he is hanging tough — it's his wife, Jenny, with whom he was long seen to have a strong, loving relationship, who faces the crucial decision of whether to forgive, as did Silda Wall Spitzer, Hillary Rodham Clinton, Elizabeth Edwards and others before her.
Not shy about her shock or hurt
Jenny Sanford has not been shy about her shock or hurt. She has said that when her husband left most recently she had hoped he was off to soul-search, and was devastated to learn he was in Argentina.
For the wives, the "love factor" becomes especially painful and tricky, relationship experts say. Because while others may find some reason for sympathy, for a wife it's probably more painful to hear your husband fell in love than that he had a meaningless sexual dalliance.
"It's a fairly consistent finding in research: Women say anonymous sex would bother them less than an emotional connection would," says Coontz, the professor, who is also author of "Marriage: A History." She adds that men are more often bothered by the sex, because it threatens their manhood.
"All infidelities are wounding in different ways, and especially when they're magnified by public humiliation," says Coontz. "But if you've decided to work on it, it might be easier to deal with someone who's been blindsided by their emotions, rather than someone who has compartmentalized them, with that sense of entitlement, as in, 'the normal rules don't apply to me.'"
It's also perhaps slightly more comforting to know that one's spouse at least hasn't engaged in risky or deviant behavior, says Gail Saltz, a therapist in New York.
"It is less icky, if we're talking about perversion, a fetish or sexually deviant behavior — falling in love with someone else doesn't seem like that," says Saltz, who's counseled many couples through infidelity. "But that doesn't make it less painful for the spouse, or more OK."
What people do for love
Saltz has no doubt that if Sanford had genuine feelings, they could have led him to make reckless decisions. "Once you get the dopamine going, people do crazy, irrational, dangerous things for love," she says.
Sanford told The Associated Press on Sunday that he and his wife are working on repairing the marriage. "If there wasn't healing going on, I wouldn't be here," he said outside his beach house, where he had dinner with his family Saturday night.
One observer, at least, thinks Sanford may not be completely committed to his quest for forgiveness.
Janine Driver, a Washington-based body language specialist and former ATF employee, noticed that Sanford in his apology referred to his wife raising "those boys," as opposed to "our boys," which he used in earlier speeches.
"We'll oftentime create distancing language, like `those' and `that' when we are not accepting the blame," says Driver. "We're creating that little bubble of distance, that safety."
Driver also felt it was telling how Sanford worded his mea culpa. Instead of saying, "I'm sorry," he repeatedly asked for forgiveness.
"`Forgiveness' is a softer word than, `I'm sorry,'" she said. "Since forgiveness is something YOU have to give to ME. It's all about him."