Can you PLEASE describe life with Terry? Because I want to hear from the gay horse's mouth directly that ingesting your "husband's" feces on a regular "monogamish" basis is really what you meant by "it gets better."

The good news is that your pretend gay "marriage" has no legitimate legacy. Once you and Terry are gone who is going to care about remembering that two very damaged men played pretend house for a few decades and brought a child into the mix to make the adults feel more secure about their pretend family unit? Not the kid Terry raised who will one day be so busy in his own pretend gay "marriage" that he couldn't possibly be bothered to show up and throw dirt on a box in a hole. That might interrupt his Margaret Cho-inspired fisting class. The day after one of you dies the other will be in the arms of another man and will seek to play pretend house again until they pass. It's sad you actually think that what you turned your life into is anything other than a pathetic and sad mess. You couldn't be happy with just destroying your life and that of your so-called wi-band/hus-fe. You had to being a child into the mix in order to convince yourself that your made-up family is some how not a made up group of sad men playing pretend.

It gets better when you don't believe the lie that being gay is some how important in any meaningful way!

Not A Lemming

My son isn't gay, NAL, which you would know if you had read American Savage, my most recent book. It includes a chapter on DJ coming out to his legally-married gay parents (nothing pretend about our marriage) as straight. And although my son has met Margaret Cho, NAL, I don't think he'd sign up for her fisting class—which wouldn't be for gay men only. Straights, lesbians, and bisexuals can and do fist and could and should sign up for Margaret's fisting class. If it existed. Which it doesn't. At least not yet.

I could go through the rest of your letter point-by-point—life with Terry is pretty great; I might remarry if Terry dies before me, just as my widowed grandfather remarried; I don't ingest feces; "wi-band" and "hus-fe" are bit strained and unlikely to catch on (and I say that as a highly-successful, semi-professional neologism creator)—but you know what? I've got a fisting class to get to.

And a bonus letter from a reader with a legitimate beef...

I was disappointed by your response to PAUSE's letter in your March 25 column. There are a variety of non-hormonal birth control options beyond condoms; these include diaphragms, sponges, cervical caps, spermicide, copper IUDs, and at the extreme, vasectomy and tubal ligation. PAUSE should have a discussion with his girlfriend about these options.

Appreciates Lots of Those