I assume, gentle reader, that you have seen the music video “Thriller”, by the late and dearly missed Michael Jackson? I honestly believe it to be the pinnacle of what music videos could hope to accomplice.

So there is that great meta-scene where Michael and his date are at the movies watching alternate-universe Michael and his date awkwardly suffering through the ol’ “running out of gas” gag deep in the woods one night. Of course, Michael being Michael, and Michael being a werewolf, he flips the fuck out and kills her as werewolves will do.

The point to all this is that Thriller is awesome, and that I made it a point to make sure it was the first music video either of my children ever saw. The other point is that there is a scene where Michael tells his date “I’m not like other guys…”.

No shit, Mike? You don’t say? I’ve long thought that was like the greatest understatement of the 20’th century.

No, Michael, you assuredly are NOT like the other fellows.

And, apparently, neither am I for that matter. You see, my wife has made an agreement with me that she can stay away from other men, as long as I finally accept that she is bisexual and would like to be able to date women.

Now this is no surprise to me as she’s always, through all of her indiscretions, been exceedingly and painfully honest with me. I just sort of hoped that she would get swept up in the tides of a career and motherhood and kinda sorta let that “attracted to women” bullshit fall by the wayside.

No such luck, I’m afraid. The bell has tolled for me, and it is high time I accept this aspect of her. I truly and honestly am for full and equal civil rights for all citizens regardless of race, religion, or political and sexual orientation. I’ve found, however, when your wife drags the issues of  bisexuality into your home and your life that it can be a bit more complex then the heady, academic idea of equality than I had always thought of.

I understand that she is what nature has made her, and I love her. Loving her means having to accept who she is, and therein lies the rub. See, I’m just not comfortable with her having a girlfriend.

It isn’t the bisexuality aspect, at all. To me, the thing that hurts about infidelity is the emotional aspect. I don’t particularly care if one meatbag sticks it’s dangling genitalia into another consenting meatbag. What has hurt me about her past infidelities is the emotional bond and the obsessions she forms with these people and the sense of betrayal I feel, and that will happen in a same-sex relationship just as much as it would a heterosexual one.

“Ah, darkhorserunning,” you say, “you have a penis and testicles! Dudes dream about their wife being with another woman! This is the best thing that could happen to you!”. My wife has certainly said this to me, using other words of course.

Slow your roll there, Cowpoke. I do, in fact, have male equipment, but that doesn’t mean I’m cool with this. I may be an Atheist and not believe in any eternal punishment, but I know what I want out of a relationship and what I feel is right and wrong.

I simply don’t want my partner to be interested in anyone else, male or female. Maybe that means “I’m not like other guys” because I don’t think it would be awesome for my wife to have sex and potentially fall in love with someone else.

Am I the only warm-blooded heterosexual male out there who wouldn’t slam a beer and high-five my bros before continuing our game of Call of Duty because my wife wants to be with women?

Maybe I’m not like other guys then. I’ve told her that  a lot of normal guys wouldn’t give a damn about your mental illness that makes you fuck around on them with anyone who pays attention to you and would get a divorce forthwith.

She says that the emotions she would feel with a woman are different than the ones she feels for me. I don’t know if she honestly is insane enough to believe her own bullshit or if she is just totally detached from reality. Emotions are emotions. The love I feel for vegetarian chicken nuggets is essentially the same love I feel for the main theme from Super Mario Bros.

But accept her I will. Because accepting the people you love for who they are is almost always the right thing to do. I shall accept her, and support her, and bide my time until the horrible truth finally crashes upon her like the sea does the shore that she loves whatever woman she eventually meets more than she loves me, and that she can no longer deny the fact that she is a complete and total lesbian.

She is likely starting cosmetology school in the fall. Though she makes decent money in her current career she has always wanted to be a hairdresser and we both would like her to get a job that doesn’t make her work all night long.

The class is 10 months long and I am assuming that there may be a 2-5 month adjustment period once she graduates while she finds work and starts to accumulate a clientele.  She will likely be working at least part-time during her schooling so even she admits she won’t really have much time to start a relationship with a woman until she is done. I shall use that time to my utmost advantage.

I know now the horrible truth, that the end is inexorably from this point on. No amount of love nor luck will stop her wandering. This isn’t my first rock concert, and I know how this song ends.

I have slightly over a year to start forging a new life for myself apart from her. First, I must redouble my efforts at weight-loss as I don’t want to be alone forever. Second, I MUST LEARN TO DRIVE as it is an essential skill for an independent adult that you are expected to have by other independent adults. Third and perhaps most importantly, I have to learn to just abide and not define myself by my marriage to her.

I am overweight. I am undereducated. I am quick to anger sometimes. I am, honestly, a bit of a coward. I make little money and have very few resources. I am, in one years’ time, likely going to be a part-time dad. I’m a lot of negative shit.

One thing I am not, however, is dead. As long as blood pumps in these veins, as long as I don’t lower my standards and settle for less than what I need from a partner, I know that I won’t be alone forever. I will be 32 shortly, but if I’m 52 before I meet someone who will be as focused on me as I am on them, it will have been worth the wait and damn anyone who disagrees.

I don’t believe that much in this crazy, mixed-up world is black & white. I’ve found one undeniable truth in this life, and that comes courtesy of the arguably made-up person of William Shakespeare:

” To thine own self be true, and it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man.”

Fuckin’ A, man. Fuckin’ A.