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Most probably it was the come-hither blonde wig I was wearing on Saturday night explanation: I was asked to represent Finland at a Eurovision Song Contest party which started me thinking about how I would feel if my husband was found out after spending precious time and energetic effort with a tart. It would be a shock, and I would worry about diseases and things, but I think or thought then I would mind less than if I discovered he'd had a one-night stand with a woman he fancied or couldn't resist because he was drunk.
Worst of all, of course, would be that searing experience of finding out that your bloke has a long-term lover.
I blurted out a little too confidently to my husband that Angus Deayton's nocturnal adventures with a sex worker didn't feel as grave or wrong as they might have done long, long ago when we were too ready to be judgmental. She told a journalist: "I am not getting some totally life-changing bit of news that I am never going to recover from.
Are we right to be so sanguine? Or is this yet another area of life where there is more confusion and complexity than we can handle?
The world in which we live no longer knows how to evaluate anything to do with sex, mostly because to express any anxieties on the subject feels old-fashioned and censorious.