When a long-ago South Carolina legislator described his state as ``too small to be a republic and too large to be an insane asylum,'' he might have added, ``but just perfect for a bordello!'' Perhaps it is the humidity. Throw in a ****tail, stir with human nature, and you've got that ol' fleeting magic.
But what's with all these kissy-boys spilling the beans on their paramours? Whither chivalry? Whither, alas, manliness? The women in these romantic imbroglios are steel magnolias to the weeping willows of their undoubtedly regrettable (and perhaps forgettable) dalliances.
The South has managed through the past 150 years of regional shame to cling to the one admirable trait of its antebellum past: the Gentle Man. He, too, apparently is endangered. With notable exceptions, the once-honorable protector of women's virtue is just another gossip-monger.
