The New York legislature is the latest in a line of ignorant, bigoted decision makers who have decided that gay marriage is a freaky, scary thing. Yes, the thought that two lesbos and two gaybos could actually deserve to have the same rights as the legally married straightbos seems farfetched to the law makers and the even more ignorant voters.

After the week I’ve had I just don’t understand the difference… I swear to Proud Mary I don’t understand it. Let me start with Monday night, which is the first night of homework for out 5th grader after a fun weekend. After my wife and I both work a 10-hour day, we rush home, let the dog out to pee and begin our long night of house chores and divvy up the duties.

One of us is assigned dinner duty and one of us homework duty. This is usually determined by whether or not the subject is math. If it’s math, my brilliant wife is on homework duty and I am by default, on chicken duty. I barely passed checkbook math in the 9th grade so fractions are not my cup of tea.

This fills the night until its bedtime. Not because there is tons of homework but because in between each fraction we listen to the updates of our boy's friends, who broke up with whom, who is a jerk today and who needs to be blocked from being able to text him. Now, let’s be clear, this is tiring because tomorrow they will need to be unblocked because now they are friends again.

Tuesday night is grocery night. Again, 10-hour day, go home let the dog out to pee, grab the coupons and bust Kroger wide open with a list, coupons and a budget. And because the boy is in the 5th grade and can read, we send him off down certain aisles to hunt and gather in order to speed things up. That’s a perk… until he turns in his loot and has only two of the seven items we sent him after, but he has managed to gather a wrestling magazine, a 6-pack of gum, candy bars and a 12-pack of Coke.

Then all of a sudden, right before my very eyes the 5th grader turns into a pre-schooler and pouts his way, protesting all along the way, “I never get anything good” as he is told to place the items back on the shelves from whence they came.

Wednesday night is planned sex night. After a 10-hour day, let the dog out to pee, get the boy started on homework really, really fast so that we can shove dinner down him, hurry to get him to his shower and jammies and at 7:45 start telling him how tired he looks so that at 8:15 when we put him in bed an hour and fifteen minutes early he isn’t surprised.

Now that I think about it, Wednesday is a little more stressful because of the fast forward that it throws us into once we get home but damn, it is worth it.

Thursday night is usually Bull Dog night. A Bull Dog is a drink that eases us into the pre-celebration of the weekend but this Thursday night was the one before Valentine's Day and my last chance at alone time.

So, after a 10-hour work day, I rushed home to let the dog out to pee and told a little white lie that the office alarm was going off and that I had to go check it out so that I could mad dash to the mall to find jewels for the wife, candy for the boy, treats for the godson, niece and nephew, and cards for the mother and mother-in-law.

It's a lot to accomplish in the half hour that it takes my wife to prepare dinner. And she gets pissed if we are not ready to eat when she is ready to serve.

Friday night is YAY night…date night! We made it. Again, a 10-hour workday, rush home to let the dog out to pee, get the boy to grandmas for the night, get the wife to the bar, get the drinks in her so that when the night is done we can get to the “couples things” that I prefer…and I never mind doing that kind of homework.

So there you go, bigoted lawmakers and ignorant voters. There is a glimpse into my non-married week with my wife that I can’t marry, the son who sure doesn’t get any attention or love and my dog with a bladder problem.

Call it what you want, but besides all of the gay sex and alcohol, it’s just like the weeks I shared with my parents while growing up. Well that and the fact that we were a “legal” family due to a little piece of paper, a blood test and a preacher.

Photo courtesy of Red Bull

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Photo courtesy of Rumble Boxing Gulch Nashville

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