I’ve been happily married for nearly fifteen years. My wife and I eloped to Las Vegas to exchange our wedding vows in front of an Elvis impersonator, who also happened to be our priest. We had just come from a Wayne Newton concert, so we were in very high spirits as “The King” asked us if we wanted to be together forever and handed us our twenty-five dollars worth of free poker chips. We’ve really had the perfect life together—two kids (one boy and one girl), nice house in the suburbs, behemoth cars, good jobs in the city. I could really ask for nothing better, except that I lost sexual attraction for her, well, since before we were married.

One could say that I felt pressured to settle down with her to achieve everything that I wished for, and everything that we have actually attained. We would go through the motions like any normal straight couple, but the sex was never satisfying for me, especially in the past two years or so when I started faking orgasms. My assumption was that my wife faked them too, so why couldn’t I? Frankly, it surprised me when she first told me she was pregnant with our son. It must have been from one of those few times that thinking about Mel Gibson strapped to the bed actually helped me get off. We actually planned my daughter, so I just had to focus and imagine that her vagina was Denzel Washington’s tight asshole.

I wouldn’t consider myself to be a homosexual, however. I would just rather think about men while having sex with women, sex that I do not tend to enjoy. I was brought up to like women, and I like women, thus I have a perfect wife. Nothing has gone wrong in our marriage, besides a couple of incidents where I found out she had cheated on me with a coworker. But beyond that, we’ve been faithful to each other.

Well, I suppose not completely faithful. But since it was with another guy, I don’t think that it really counts, does it? I mean, I don’t technically swing that way, I just happened to be persuaded into it by some outside and insignificant force like my repressed desires. It really was just a one-time thing, a fling, a passing fancy, an encounter. Granted, I’ve been with him again numerous times over the past few weeks, but those fall under the greater umbrella of the first time because we’ve tried different things with each other, different positions. It’s basically like an extension of our first time together. He has been my pastime since I gave up baseball after college. I’ve found that that’s the best way to put it, and that it’s a healthy way of thinking about it.

I first saw him when he was moving into his new house next door to us. I was happy because our old neighbors neglected their house and it fell into a state of disrepair. They also somehow smelled of old cheese. I think the old man had worked in a cheese factory his whole life, and the smell followed him home. But anyway, they moved out, and the lot was vacant for a few months.

I returned home from work one evening when the wife and kids were out. I think they went shopping