I had a bittersweet moment seeing the “Robin Williams Tunnel” sign at the tunnel just before crossing the Golden Gate Bridge to enter San Francisco. I’d been away for some time. It had formerly been known as the Waldo Tunnel, after a 19th century politician most people have never heard of. The new name commemorated a brilliant comedian and much loved Bay Area resident, who ended his life by suicide. There was a rather horrible irony that the signs were erected at each side of the tunnel on Leap Day—February 29, 2016, next to one of the world’s prime suicide spots—the Golden Gate Bridge. Second only to the Nanjing Yangtze River Bridge in China, it’s been estimated that more than 1,600 people have leapt off the Golden Gate Bridge to their deaths since it was built in 1937. Diane Rapaport, editor and publisher of my new book, Adulterer’s Wife: How to Thrive Whether You Stay or Not, worked closely with one of these suicide victims. Andrew Fluegelman was the founder of Headlands Press, founding editor of PC World and Macworld magazines, and a pioneer of what is now known as shareware software. He encouraged Diane to write her first book and published it. Then he disappeared, never to be seen again. He left his car, with a suicide note inside, parked near the Golden Gate Bridge. Diane named her own publishing company Jerome Headlands Press, in his memory. The Robin Williams Tunnel was also unofficially dubbed “the Rainbow Tunnel” by locals, because of the rainbow painted on it. You don’t see the rainbow as you go to San Francisco, only when you drive towards Sausalito in Marin County. Is this because the scenery is better in that direction? I’m sure Robin Williams would have had a rude quip about it. Williams ended his battle with alcohol, substance abuse, depression and a rare brain disease called Lewy body dementia, by committing suicide on August 11, 2014. “Reality is just a crutch for people who can’t cope with drugs,” he had proclaimed. Williams was arguably the world’s best stand-up comedian. I was fortunate enough to see him perform live on two separate occasions, and he was so funny that tears were rolling down my cheeks. I’d be falling apart laughing at what he was saying, and right away he’d top it with another outrageous quip. He would riff effortlessly on anything the audience threw at him. The second time I saw him he’d been dealing with heart surgery and rehab. He had noticeably less energy and there was a darker tinge to his humor, but the performance was still outstanding. Some of the funniest comedians draw their creativity from a wellspring of internal torment and dysfunction. Many are incapable of forming long-term monogamous relationships. New York comic and satirist Lenny Bruce had a private life characterized by drug addiction and promiscuity. He died at 40 of a drug overdose in 1966. The British comedian, Tony Hancock, popular during the 1950s and 1960s, was married twice and faithful to neither of the women. One of his affairs was with the wife of his best friend, John Le Mesurier, a regular on Hancock’s BBC TV show. At the age of 44, not long after his second wife’s failed suicide attempt, Hancock killed himself by overdosing on barbiturates. Married three times, Williams had numerous affairs. His first wife, Valerie Velardi, had to put up with public humiliation. In the 1980s after a cocktail waitress Williams was bonking on the side sued him, claiming that he had knowingly given her herpes. The case was settled out of court. Then Williams got romantically involved with his children’s nanny, Marsha Garces, who eventually became his second wife. That marriage lasted 17 years, pretty long for show-biz relationships, but even she finally filed for divorce. Most likely she was tired of his philandering. As Williams himself said, “The problem is that God gives men a brain and a penis and only enough blood to run one at a time.” The Daily Telegraph reported in 2011 that Williams described divorce as “like ripping a man’s genitals out through his wallet.” Thus he might well have seen Monty Python stalwart John Cleese as a kindred spirit. According to an article in the online edition of the Daily Mail, at an alimony fundraising tour Cleese did back in 2011, he defined his ex-wife as “the spiritual godchild of Blackbeard the pirate and Heather Mills.” Cleese later added that he “got off lightly” because the $20 million divorce settlement could have been even higher “had she contributed anything to the marriage—if she’d had children or even a two-way conversation.” Clearly hell hath no fury like a celebrity funnyman having to split his assets with an ex. The moral of the story? If you’re looking for harmony and fidelity, don’t marry a comedian. Most likely you’d be much happier with an accountant, a proctologist or maybe even a mortician.