Morally and ethically suspect in his personal, political and academic lives — and graced with the skin of a bloated whale carcass — Newt Gingrich is, by all definitions, an unattractive man. In fact, his very image calls to mind the type who might lean in to talk to you while sharing what one might kindly describe as a  “hearty cocktail of the latest in Eurasian pheromone perfumery” beneath a dab of Ralph Lauren No. 88. And yet I find myself hopelessly enamored with the man.

In my defense, Newt sort of crept up on everybody. Even when the polls ranked him beside Romney, I dismissed it as an aberration — a million monkeys and a million typewriters, and all that. In turn, I dismissed Newt as either a novelty candidate trying to sell a coffee table book or an extra-dimensional reptilian  cloaked in pure, physical ego.

But Newt’s ego is what made him untouchable in South Carolina. When asked during the January 19 debate to comment on his ex-wife’s statements — she told the media that Newt had asked her for an “open marriage” back in 1999 — he reversed the pointed question with Steven Seagal-like efficacy, turning it into an indictment of the “liberal media.” Even if you didn’t agree with the message, the audience’s response and the moderator’s Dennis the Menace smirk unleashed invigorating energy into a campaign that, until then, had resembled a death march to Tampa.

Still, I retained a sober mindset. “No way,” I decided. “No way can a former House Speaker with his ethics record win over the Tea Party. No way can a twice-divorced Catholic sell himself to the Religious Right. No way can a former college professor who  shared a seat with Nancy Pelosi in a global warming PSA convince a state that still flies the Confederate flag that he’s the ‘true conservative.’ No way, no how, not once, not never.”

But then South Carolina voted, and the results caused my brain to short circuit: Newt? How could Newt, whose whole staff left the campaign only six  months prior, beat the prince of the Republican Party in a key primary state? Was it those damn Yippies, dosing the water again? Was Newt Gingrich really “Nute Gunray,” using a Jedi mind trick? Or had America finally fallen in… love?

Thinking back, it’s easy to realize how Newt initially fell off the radar. His entrance into the presidential race was so poorly received that he resorted to buying an army of Twitter bots to generate followers. Of course, this rumor came from a member of Newt’s campaign staff who had quit — an event that many thought would be the death knell for the campaign. But it wasn’t. Newt did as he said he would: He took a cruise, got out of the limelight, and splashed around in the Mediterranean.

This only helped. As the primaries have proven, the idea that Newt is oblivious to the public perception of him has given him a particular advantage. For Newt, reality is whatever he believes it to be. Going into South Carolina, his past appeared to make him chronically unelectable — but when the CNN moderator, John King, forced him to acknowledge this, Newt, the career politician, countered for maximum political points.

By coming into the election with his skeletons on display, Newt has been able to artfully pose them. Perhaps one of the greatest testaments to this is the “get the facts” section of his website, which he set up “to arm you with answers to the attacks.”

What happened with the 1999 ethics investigation? Well, as he explains on his website, 83 of the 84 charges were dropped. The last one “had to do with contradictory documents prepared by Newt’s lawyer,” and Newt “took responsibility for the error and agreed to reimburse the committee the cost of the investigation  into that discrepancy.” The Republican-led House Committee on Ethics didn’t fine him $300,000 for violations — he was just being fiscally responsible.

Okay, how about the personal accusations of infidelity? Being “honest and forthright,” Newt owns up to his extramarital  affairs and admits that “he has had to seek reconciliation, and go to God for forgiveness.” See? He felt bad, talked to God, and everything’s cool now because God said so. And whoever tries to bring this up is an agenda-driven muckraker.

But what about the fact that he cheated on his wife during the impeachment proceedings against President Clinton? Isn’t that hypocritical? Apples and oranges, my friend. Clinton’s impeachment proceedings “were due to the fact that the president committed perjury in front of a sitting federal judge, which is a felony.” Newt, on the other hand, didn’t do anything illegal. Case closed.

But, morally, don’t you — What part of “talked to God, case closed” aren’t you getting?

As Newt’s first ex-wife, Jackie, told The Washington Post in 1985, “He’s a great wordsmith.” Not only that, but Newt is blissfully immune to criticism — attacks and insults only seem to feed into his bile sacs like day-old hot dogs. And who doesn’t find that kind of confidence attractive? Besides, as Newt said himself, he only  committed these errors because he’s so damn patriotic.

“There’s no question at times of my life, partially driven by how passionately I felt about this country, that I worked far too hard and things happened in my life that were not appropriate,” he said, speaking to the  Christian Broadcast Network on March 8, 2011.

Yet somehow Newt’s polling numbers have gone down in the  last few weeks of the campaign. He only got 7 percent of the vote in Michigan, and 16 percent in Arizona. Can’t you see how you torture him, America?! This man, this beautiful man, ran himself ragged for you. He bombarded you with his self-assurance and bold words, and you’re already thinking about someone else.

Perhaps it was just a short-lived fling. You don’t know what you want, America: you had that affair with Rick Perry, you rode the Cain Train for a while, and you even experimented with Michele Bachmann that one weekend. You  found yourself inexplicably seduced by Newt, but now you’ve decided that you want someone who knows what the word “compassionate” means, someone to softly coax you with sweet nothings instead of assertively telling you what you want.

Me? I’ve always been a sucker for the bossy type, someone who can twist words around and win any argument. Call him narcissistic.  Call the relationship abusive. But I’m sticking with Newt, because winning the argument means winning the future.