The outside world in contrast to the home is rarely a place of comfort but one of chaos. Not so because man automatically has the capacity for evil but out of the struggle by people with varied ambitions or courses. Everyone is often busy with their shit to focus on yours in the public domain. Hardly does one genuinely want to know your well-being when they ask “how are you?” At best, it’s a Machiavellian courtesy. You are bound to meet gazillion misconceptions about yourself in the public than in the private as well. By the private, I mean those who genuinely know you.
To marry a stranger in a nutshell, is to extend the frontier of the public into the private (home). And that’s depression because your body is vulnerable enough, enough to need a bit of order (some form of quasi-sleep amidst the cosmic chaos) at points in time for survival. That could as well be a ticket for cheating (to others). I’m not justifying infidelity, only describing why some cheat. You’ll find men scared of going back home after a hectic day because they don’t want the encounter with the nagging tigress. Women as well could do that because a time away from the authoritarian lion is best described as the golden experience. To have a home (with or without children) is to have a genuine understanding of each other. That tends to solve a whole lot of the problems as much are heavily engrossed in arguments where actors meet no resolution, only talk pass each other. Honesty is key. However, like Beyoncé sang in the cover “honesty is such a lonely word.” No wonder, only few get to taste the joys of relationships over a long period of time.