It's not the sex; it's stupidity

Spare me the tears, OK? If you want me to respect the privacy of your stupidity, don't expect my sympathy.

South Carolina Gov. Mark Sanford's admission that he had spent five days crying in Argentina provided us with one of those moments to wonder how people can get so far with so little judgment. I know the old explanation that men don't always think with their brains, but it is the part that isn't about sex that is mystifying.

A heterosexual affair with a woman over 18 who doesn't work for him, and whom he didn't pay or meet in a public restroom, wouldn't even land Sanford on a top-10 list of recent political scandals - were it not for the disappearance.

What is so puzzling about Sanford is not the arrogant idea that he could send sloppy e-mails to his girlfriend and fly off to see her in Argentina and no one in South Carolina would be the wiser. Every second-rate thief is arrogant in that way, thinking he will be the one who won't get caught.

Nor is it the selfish expectation that his staff lie to others on his behalf, damaging their own reputations in the process. Hiking on the Appalachian Trail while recovering from the legislative session? Who came up with that one? Whoever did, the staff was forced to try to sell it.

When I was in college, in the last years of curfews and "parietals" (there's a word you don't hear anymore), we were required to sign out when we left the dorm. In rebellion, we would put down things like "New York City."

But since I've been a grown-up, I've understood that if you have responsibilities, there are times when you must be reached. Adults don't disappear. They leave numbers.

Sanford thought he could escape his life, his wife and four sons on Father's Day, a job he apparently loved, and a future he had cultivated to go off to Argentina and play - and not even leave a number.

If Sanford's staff is like that of every other politician I know, they're on call 24/7. If one of them disappeared to Argentina for a week, he would find an empty desk when he got home. Those are the rules of the game.

But the rules don't apply to the king - the president, the governor, the candidate. No one who wants to be there very long can say no to him. So, surrounded by their yes-men and women, politicians - like Benjamin Button - get younger every year, until they start believing their fantasies and losing touch with reality.

I think Sanford was crying in Argentina because reality finally intruded on his fantasy. Time to grow up, governor.