The very idea of calling a loving couple’s consensual sexual acts immoral had always been alien to my sensibilities. Precisely for this reason, I could no more positively reject the idea than accept it. I could only, as it were, stare blankly at it.
Meeting my husband, Warren, was the best thing that ever happened to my father.
When I got married I vowed to my wife, on a pulpit in front of all my friends and family, that I would continue to cherish and love her for the rest of her life. It was a kind of promise. But the love we want is spontaneous, underlying, underived and free. This is how it can affirm who we are. How can I commit to continue to love my wife?
The problem with marriage, we all know, is the endlessness of it. Once you’re married, you’ve significantly cut down the options, and it suddenly makes your life feel shorter—like now there’s a direct line between you and your own death.
The utopian imagination must be directed inward, from which point it can radiate out to the neighbor, the spouse, the neighborhood, the city, the country and the world.
I tend to think that the “contradictions” between feminism, alternative sexuality and marriage have always been overblown. In any group of people, some will take on more traditional values and some won’t.
Human beings are “teleologizing” creatures. That is to say: we like to understand the phenomena that we encounter in the world as coming to us […]