I must preface this by saying that I would be delighted if either Hillary or Obama were elected. They both seem unlikely to slaughter civilians, endorse torture or torpedo the economy, so why quibble? And yet, there's one difference I find telling: their dramatically different marriages.

My mother came over the other morning and said, "Well, I'm off Hillary." This was shocking. From the first, she's been a die-hard Hillary supporter. Loved Bill, loved Hillary. Even as my father became an Obama fan, my mother stuck by the Clintons.  

What changed her mind? Bill. "Why doesn't she send him to Iceland?" my mother asked of Hillary, furious over the Jesse Jackson remark, among others. "Why doesn't he let her have her turn? It's so like the men of our generation. He's out to sabotage her."  

She's not the first to notice how, in the name of support, Bill continues to undermine and dominate his wife. The New York Times ran a rather snide story in May 2006 about the Clintons' marriage: " Mr. Clinton is rarely without company in public, yet the company he keeps rarely includes his wife . . ." That portrait of a long-distance-by-choice marriage was discussed in the media ad nauseum, especially (with glee) by Fox News.

But even the worst insinuations in that piece weren't as bad as the truth: they have an absolutely typical Boomer union, a rickety first-generation prototype of the modern marriage. They were early adopters of this "equal partnership" thing, so while they deserve all credit for having pioneered, their marriage is the romantic equivalent of the Apple IIe.

Bill Clinton epitomizes the men of his generation: unable to share the spotlight.

The Boomer marriage has a lot of things that got phased out in later development: male entitlement, female determination, resentment on both sides. They're trying hard to be good at mutual respect and encouragement, but there's only so far you can upgrade an old machine.

So the Clintons proclaim and demonstrate their love, convincingly: "No one understands me better and no one can make me laugh the way Bill does," she wrote in her 2003 memoir. "He's so romantic!" she coos to Essence. He kisses her on the forehead. They hug. I totally buy it. And then, like clockwork, he screws her over. Most recently, he says the thing about Jesse Jackson that turns off who knows how many supporters. She seethes, re-asserts her independence. They make up. Rinse and repeat.

Bill epitomizes the men of his generation: narcissistic, unable to share the spotlight, pulling the rug out from under her at every opportunity, but not malicious, never malicious. So she stays with him because she loves him, because he has a good heart. He stays with her because she'll have him. And so they go on like this, and will probably until they die. It's sort of sweet, sort of depressing.

Contrast that with the Obamas.