ABSTRACT
When I make love with my husband I imagine it’s Barry Manilow. All the time. And after, when my husband and I have made love and I realize it’s not him, I cry to
myself. It’s usually dark when the tears flow and somehow I manage to conceal them. It happens to an awful lot of people, too. I didn’t realize how many until I got involved
with Barry fans. A lot of them are married and around my age and they feel the same way and they do the same thing. It’s comforting to know I’m not the only one.
