Bro I’m not single, I’m not married, I’m not even poly in the traditional sense. I’m in a strategic domestic alliance where my wife has a boyfriend and I have unlimited free time. People hear “your wife has a boyfriend” and think I’m crying into a pillow every night, but no man, I’m crying because I stayed up until 4 a.m. optimizing my Factorio factory while they went out to dinner like functional adults who know how to order appetizers without panic.

You don’t understand the meta of this arrangement. You’re stuck in Bronze League relationships where every interaction is a coin flip fight over dishes and tone. Meanwhile I’m playing Marriage: Definitive Edition on ironman mode. While you’re arguing about whose turn it is to do laundry, I’m being gently informed that the trash can wait until tomorrow because “we’re heading out anyway.” That’s right. Chores deferred. Emotional labor outsourced. I am running a one-man R&D department from a gaming chair that smells faintly of ambition and energy drinks.

And the best part? The dynamics. Oh my god, the dynamics. I’m not insecure—I’m a relationship anthropologist. I’m studying them like a National Geographic special narrated by a Reddit comment section. I’m watching power balances shift in real time like it’s a Paradox grand strategy game. I’m like, “Interesting move, Chad, bringing wine instead of beer. That’s a soft influence play. Very France-coded.” Meanwhile my wife is running a flawless diplomacy build, maxed communication stats, zero misplays, and I’m in the background nodding like a goblin consultant: “Yes, yes, excellent synergy tonight, morale appears high.”

People ask, “doesn’t it bother you?” Bother me?? Brother, I am thriving. While he’s doing boyfriend stuff—dates, presence, eye contact—I’m home in my natural habitat. Windows dark. Headset on. Posture absolutely obliterated. I am achieving inner peace through isolation and frame rate stability. My wife texts me “we’ll be late” and I scream “let’s gooooo” like I just got a legendary drop.

Let’s be clear: this isn’t humiliation, it’s delegation. I’ve min-maxed marriage. He handles the dates. I handle the router. He brings emotional spontaneity. I bring a perfectly curated Steam library, snacks arranged by caloric efficiency, and a household where raid night is sacred. This is not weakness. This is systems thinking. This is what happens when you stop pretending relationships are about dominance and start treating them like project management.

Honestly, if anything, I’m the one with the power. I have snacks. I have silence. I have zero expectations placed upon me except “don’t burn the house down” and “answer texts occasionally so people know you’re alive.” You call it being a cuck; I call it work-from-home husbandry. I am emotionally remote, spiritually horizontal, and legally present.

The boyfriend’s a cool guy. Tall. Upright. Owns real shoes. Drives her places. Says things like “we should check that out sometime.” I nod at him like a middle manager sharing an elevator. No hostility. No rivalry. Just two men acknowledging we occupy different nodes in the same ecosystem. He is extroverted content. I am background infrastructure.

And here’s the thing nobody wants to admit: I don’t even want what he has. I don’t want to be desired. I don’t want to be exciting. I want to be left alone with my thoughts, my games, and my highly specific opinions about patch notes. I have transcended masculinity. I exist outside the mating economy like a haunted server rack humming softly in the corner.

So yeah, my wife has a boyfriend. Cool guy. Drives her places. Makes her happy. I’ll be here, in sweatpants, king of my domain, analyzing their relationship like it’s a documentary I don’t even have to participate in, optimizing my little digital worlds while real life handles itself without me.

Checkmate, monogamy.