A friend has left his wife for another woman. “I don’t believe he’s behaved badly, said one of my other buddies. I don’t think it necessarily reflects badly on him,” he concluded.

The husband and wife had (apparently) been on the rocks for a while and were living somewhat apart.

This is the line I tell myself to give him the benefit of the doubt. However, I was quick to say that it did, indeed, reflect quite badly on him. Either have the courage to end the current relationship and then wait a good while before shacking up with somebody else, or maintain the current relationship, and overcome your petulant and carnal desires.

Ooh, I know. I sound tough, don’t I? I wasn’t always like this. I used to be lenient. I used to talk about free love and romance and being swept up in emotions that you simply couldn’t control. And then I grew up. This is, apparently, what a certain friend of mine should have done.

Don’t get me wrong, I can appreciate a good extra-marital crush.

I fully understand that a pretty face, a knowing smile or an absurd knowledge of the entire Monty Python collection (it takes all sorts) can turn our heads.

I’m not getting on my moral high horse. No – I’m on my moral stallion. I just don’t think we can continue making excuses for people who so selfishly and wilfully hurt another person – especially not another person they’ve promised their lives to, and felt compelled enough to have children with.

Look, there’s a way to leave somebody. If you really decide that you no longer love your spouse there is a way to honour that person, to show them respect and exit gracefully.

And then wait a reasonable time before shacking up with the love of your life down the road.

And no, for the record, I’ve never been hurt in this way: my anger doesn’t come from any personal pain.

When I was a teenager I was a big, smooshy romantic. I still am, in various ways. But I’m no longer one of those romantics who suddenly swoon, exclaiming, “the heart wants what the heart wants” before running off with the gardener. Because I’ve learnt that the heart is a selfish, fickle little muscle with as much integrity as Scarlett Johansson in a SodaStream ad.

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