For Pete’s Sake
By Shawna Jeanne
I knew my husband Pete was bisexual when I married him. If I’m honest, that’s part of what attracted me to him in the first place. I was a college junior when we met at a frat party, and the moment I saw him, I thought he was cute and queer, and since I liked gay boys, I chatted him up.
Pete had pale blue eyes that looked like crystal, they were so clear. The centers were as black as his hair, which fell in casual waves around his high forehead. His lips were ruddy, his cheeks pinked with booze. I was tired of getting hit on by drunken freshmen, and since I didn’t think the frat house was his type of place—he was the only gay guy I’d seen all night—I sidled up to him and hollered over the loud music, “I’m Sheila.”
“Pete,” he said, shaking my hand.
His
