It is good, Marco

So, that was quite a front page last week. I'm not talking about the one from NRC with that beautiful photo of socks stuffed into clogs at the Binnenhof, but about the one from De Telegraaf. About Marco indeed. And Iris. And Leontine. We consciously chose not to write about it that day, because it felt inappropriate and because it happened ten years ago. And because the first marriage where no one ever gets a cup given to someone else, in my opinion, still needs to have its place. And because it’s all just a silly game by Privé who finds it interesting now that Iris Hond has a program on Net5 and because they publish exactly on the day that the fresh Privé hits the stores. I found it sad. For Marco, for Leontine, and also for Iris who certainly did not consciously act as a homewrecker but whose feelings undoubtedly got carried away with something that started as friendship. At least, that’s how I can imagine it. The fact that she has disabled her comments under her Instagram says enough. That woman has of course been completely torn apart.

Anyway, we didn’t write about it that day, but we did talk about it of course. Nothing human is alien to us. No one I spoke to found it reprehensible. No one thought Marco was stupid. We understood it and found it rather sad. I imagined something. You hear that De Telegraaf is going to publish something and you know what kind of hurricane will follow. You come together at the kitchen table, inform your children, and come up with a plan of action. And then you want to hide, but you can’t because your schedule is full. And you can hardly turn your back on a full Ahoy. So there stood Marco with André Hazes. And, with all love for André, when Marco sings, the boys are separated from the men.

And now I look at Marco's account and see his collage of sweet photos with Leontine, of his family with the text ‘We Are Family’. And an exclamation mark.

Marco, we feel you. And you should do whatever your heart tells you on your Insta account, but we love you all. For that beautiful, real, and sometimes not perfect love. You don’t have to convince us. It’s good.