Regarding the subject of my previous post:
No sooner is it up than actress Maria Bello decides to tell the world that she is “dating a woman.” The two events are not connected.
In The New York Times she tells the story of the day she informed her son of this…um, what’s the word for it?…new state of affairs. The son is 12. Surely, one supposes, he was deeply shocked and offended, at least until after an expected period of adjustment, you know, like after a divorce, which usually hurts kids badly at first but in time they learn to accept because we all know how resilient kids are.
The kid’s response?
He looked at me for what seemed like an eternity and then broke into a huge, warm smile. “Mom, love is love, whatever you are,” he said with wisdom beyond his years.
During the course of her rationalizations, Miss Bello does a riff on the word “partner.” By the time she’s done with it, the word doesn’t mean much anymore. She has lots of partners, only some of whom she has had sex with. Sex turns out to be unimportant to the partner concept, so I don’t understand why she has sex with any of them at all, even though the sex she had with her ex-husband was the only sex that issued in a son, to whom she now must explain why she is having sex with a woman, who will not be giving her any sons or daughters to whom she must explain why things so obvious have to be so complicated.
If you have a partner, you might have sex with him or her. It doesn’t really matter, because under the ‘partner concept’ – ruled by the ‘love is love’ doctrine – love is sexless. It is necessary that we keep repeating this to ourselves in order to publicly ordain sex between homosexuals in the form of marriage, even though the sex isn’t really important because love is love.
I think Miss Bello spends so much time on the word ‘partner’ to avoid having to struggle with more traditional arrangements like ‘husband’ and ‘wife.’ We’re all partners now. Miss Bello concludes:
So I would like to consider myself a “whatever”… Whomever I love, however I love them, whether they sleep in my bed or not, or whether I do homework with them or share a child with them, “love is love.” And I love our modern family.
Maybe, in the end, a modern family is just a more honest family.
Which reminds me. There’s a program on the TV called “Modern Family.” I have never watched it, and now I never will.