The Other Man

I'm really not sure when it happened or how. My first thoughts were that something was different in our lives. They say a woman knows immediately when her husband is cheating but how is a man to figure it out? I guess the signs were all too clear. At first there were telltale bills from Tower Records every month for ever more Phantom tapes (they wore out from overuse). Then we kept hearing all Michael Crawford tapes in the car to the exclusion of John Denver and Rudy Vallee. Finally, the trip to London, the white half-mask on the wall, and the autographed picture of Michael Crawford.

My wife glowed! She cried! And finally the depth of despair when he stood her up in Atlantic City. Yes, now it all falls into place. The obvious signs of another MAN! How stupid I was not to see it sooner! The furtive calls to fan club members behind my back and meetings in my house! Then, one early November she made me wear that funny white half-mask over my face. "But dear," I protested. "Halloween was last week." She didn't care. I had to wear that thing like the guy in the French novel because secretly it turned her on!

Yes, the signs were there all along and I was too busy with T.V. football to notice. So now I sit here depressed, rejected, and unable to fight back at a, at a phantom.

At first I cajoled her. I'll go on a hunger strike and lose weight (no, too severe a punishment for her). I then screamed, "I'm going to take voice lessons if you don't knock it off." (Didn't work.) Finally, "You can't have any more money for tapes." (Then I remembered she handles the checkbook.)

Oh well, I decided. Maybe I'll have to accept another man in my life. After all, I do enjoy his music and I guess he is a great performer... If she would just let me take off this damned mask!

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