Growing up, we had classes of “moral science” in school. It told us how to keep good hygiene, and how to keep good morals.
The Moral Man (with a capital M, for this deserves the respect one usually reserves for God) was a man of self control, who betrayed no emotion, never fell prey to any passion, never did anything that might come back to haunt him later, in the face of any crisis, he always abided by the social code of what is right and acceptable. The Moral Man, in short, was the one who refused the apple when some immoral Eve offered it to him. Damn these snakes and Eves of the world, you could shake Paradise, but not this man. No, ma’m.
When the moment finally arrives when he has to kiss a fallen damsel, don’t worry, little girl, he won’t do it. Which is why you must always pick such a man as your husband.
And never as your lover.
Beyond Six Rivers 