My great uncle, who is almost eighty-nine years old, recently told me: “I can resist everything except temptation.” My close friend is in the sixth month of one of those all-consuming-totally-devoted-to-you-maybe-we’ll-get-married-and-reproduce sort of relationships. In a moment of weakness, her boyfriend got rip-roaring drunk and cheated on her, “briefly” (in his own words, whatever that means…). Flooded with such remorse, he went to his girlfriend and confessed his transgression almost immediately.

Some say that this wanker moment would have been better left unmentioned, as an unfortunate miscreant incident to relinquish to the lovely land of denial. By telling his girlfriend about the infidelity, he could do nothing but hurt her. But I think it would have haunted him in a Lady Macbeth “Out, out damned spot” sort of way. Eventually, it would seep into their relationship like an uninvited house guest, a third wheel of doom. But thanks to his honesty, the Romeo & Juliet purity of this couple is a thing of the past.

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