When we were in our twenties and first involved with each other, Ann told a number of her friends that I was bisexual. The friends were deeply concerned for her. The chief concern, because they doubted that bisexual men actually existed, was that I must be gay and trying to pass. Over the years and well after we married, she heard the concern so often that by the mid-eighties she developed a standard response that went like this:

Checks against stereotype:

Look at how he dresses!

He sure as shit can’t dance.

He doesn’t usually listen to show tunes.

Reality checks:

As Elton and Bernie phrase it, when “rolling like thunder under the covers,” it’s clear to me.

Occasionally, when an attractive woman walks by, his eyes will wander, not obnoxiously but also not in a way that suggests he’s analyzing her fashion sense.

Conclusion: as a one and a half dollar bill.