Marriage Project
Jill is lately married to a former radical-cheerleading, performance artist, addiction counselor who makes the best risotto on the planet. It was a Day-of-the-Dead affair.
This is a series of journal like posts made between xxxx and xxxx where I explored the feelings around the marriage equality act and …
I think this project is entirely about love. In many ways, marriage is the vehicle. Meet my guest for today’s Marriage Project:
I’ve never thought of myself as the marrying type. Let me just get that out there right now. Some of my closest friends have said that my romantic life reads a bit like a horror story and while it would be easier to say it all just happened to me, I know very well I have played the villain and the victim. Because of this I have not been able to imagine allowing anyone to choose to marry themselves to me. Keep your distance; let me be an island. Visit, for sure. I can be a lot of fun. But don’t stay too long.
So it’s been hard for me to find the words for this project. The obvious choice is to talk about whether I want to get married or not, I believe everyone should have the right to do so. That’s completely true, of course. But then, you see. There’s this girl.
And there’s always a “this girl”, right? And yes, she is different, and I am different around her and all of that. But let me tell you our story.
Eight years ago, when I was fresh out of the closest, I met her. I was not ready to find this person that I knew, even then, I wanted. And not just wanted. I mean wanted. From the split ends of my nappy hair to the tip of my toes and everything in between. I thought it was love, but now I know it was a strong connection and a heady desire. Man, what a spark. It was delicious and so was she and it didn’t last long, as these things never do. I was new and she was young, and I had recently come out of what is still the most damaging relationship of my life. I had some healing to do, we both had some growing to do.
So let’s fast forward a couple years. We try again. I’m dealing with death and trauma, she’s dealing with a deep depression. Not how you generally start something, but we reach for each other anyway. We know that, if nothing else, the presence of the other is a great comfort.
So we try. And, yes, we fail. When you’re afraid to be vulnerable, the pain can come out in such ugly ways. Our fights were louder than our love.
Some people might say you should just let it go. If it doesn’t work the first time, it won’t work the second, right? But now, we are on number three.
For the last two years we have been holding on, to each other and whatever we can grab on to. We are not so young anymore, and we understand that sometimes the healing will take a lifetime, and it’s nice to have company while you do it.
It has been so hard sometimes. I have been so scared for so long, and when it finally started to clear, she is the only person I wanted to tell and laugh and celebrate with. Still, sometimes there is fear and it feels like we fight for every inch we gain. But even when it’s hard, there is nothing else I would rather be doing. Even when it’s hard and we fight, now, I can hear the love in our shouting. I can hear us trying. Most of the time it’s easier than breathing. Just existing with her, in this house. Filling it with good food and laughter. With impromptu cocktail parties, and off-key musicals in the shower. We are happy together.
I don’t know if I believe in marriage for myself yet or not. I’ve got some healing to do, but that’s beside the point. But I do believe in connection. It’s what we’re all here for, after all. To seek out others, and share ourselves with them. She and I have sought each other out time and again. We’ve shared ourselves with each other, for better or worse, for eight years. We give and we try and we grow and it’s beautiful and so simple, really, but feels like one of the most revolutionary things I’ve ever done. Love is fucking hardcore, y’all.
This became a lot more about love than about marriage. I have love, and I’m unsure about marriage. I’m taking my time. I’m making sure I’m ready. Chris and I have been fighting for this love for eight years and now the fight’s almost over, and everyday it gets better and better. Who’s to say all this work, all of this that we have put into it is any less valid than any other romance on the planet? I would very much like to have the option, when I am ready, to tie myself to this woman. To publicly give myself to her capable heart that knows mine so well. To share all things with her that exist outside of my heart, as well. We are climbing out of our fears and trusting love, waiting on the rest of the world to do the same.
Jen Washington
Topeka, KS
I dated girls in high school. Secretly. When I hear stories of kids being out in high school or junior high, I think, You are the bravest brave. To live without shame. To be nurtured by your community. I want that for all of us. Meet my guest for today’s Marriage Project:
My nephew was born gay. We all knew it from the time he was three. I never said as much (well, maybe to my sister) and certainly never said anything to him but I was certain. And it was with a little trepidation that I watched my parents reaction as he compulsively plucked petunias from their flower pots and turned them upside down so as to spin them “like a lady’s dress.”
My concern came from a little talk my father had with me when I was in High School about dating black men. “If you sleep with a black man, no white man will ever want to be with you.” I thankfully, knew this to be false but was worried for my nephew. If he felt that way about something like race, something you were born with and had no ability to change, how would he feel about a gay grandson?
Sometimes my nephew’s preferences were funny and endearing. Like the Christmas I gave him a Skydancer doll. I knew it was exactly what he wanted; it was a lady with a skirt that spun when you launched her up in the air. His Father got him an all-sport kit. Complete with a football, basketball and baseball bat and glove. I think it was one of those presents like in my hippie days when my mom got me a box full of hygiene supplies, toothpaste, shampoo, soap … you get the idea. A gift that is supposed to magically propel you down the path someone would like to see you choose. He opened the all-sport kit with gusto until he realized what was inside. “Oh, it’s a ……,” he said, and promptly began spinning the Skydancer.
Now it’s not to say that all little boys who play with barbies are gay. I wasn’t making assumptions, but clearly this was no passing phase. When he was five, my sister and I shared a house, which allowed me to be involved in his life in a way I never had before. This actually meant, letting him dress up like a girl. My sister was reluctant to indulge these things out of motherly fear that kids would make fun of him, and knowing her own son’s compulsive and willful tendencies, perhaps it was a Pandora’s box she would rather not open. I understood, but I was the Aunt. The first time she left me in charge I asked my nephew if he wanted to play dress-up. He of course, wanted to dress up as a girl. I’ll never forget his giddy excitement as he crammed his big feet into his little sister’s tights, or the way he beamed at himself in the bathroom mirror after I applied mascara. It was so simple to make him happy!
Sometimes his preferences made him a target for ridicule, but my sister tolerated no bullying. She switched schools if kids were mean. Sometimes this boy/girl polarity created an inner tension and anxiety that was hard for him to grapple with. In grade school he seemed to have left the dress up games behind but he was suffering from anxiety and drawing picture after picture of a Cruella DeVille-esque vamp. I asked him, “Do you ever feel like there’s a part of you that’s a woman?” He hung his head a little and let out an embarrassed “Yes.” My heart was broken to think of him, an acutely intelligent, compassionate, natural leader tormented by something that was innately himself and always had been. Shoot, I felt sometimes like there was a man trapped inside me. Most of my peer group thought so too.
He learned ultimately to use these characteristics in his favor. If he dressed up in his adorable awkward way as Zelda and ran around the park, all the kids in the neighborhood would be doing the same shortly. He was a successful student and had friends. But he hadn’t told anyone he was gay.
In eighth grade, he decided to let the world know. Of course, his mom supported him, his dad supported him after letting go of the fact that he was sneaking women’s clothes to school at Sacajawea and wearing them all day. The school counselors supported him and pulled him aside to say, “If anyone bothers you at all, you come to my office and let me know.” And (deep breath) my parents supported him.
Fortunately for him, it was relatively easy. If he were less liked by his teachers, or more socially awkward, or less otherwise “normal” I think the transition would have been much more difficult. But really, his experience can speak volumes about where we are today. When I was in Junior High if someone showed up in drag they would’ve had the shit kicked out of them before second period, and most likely under the proximate blissful ignorance of the vice principal.
Making marriage legal is just one step toward the goal of letting each one of us be who we are. I want to be who I am, and I want the people who love me to be who they are. Someday I would like to go to my nephew’s wedding. And I would like to celebrate with my entire family. I believe it is our calling in these turgid times. We must accept ourselves fully and give ourselves permission to achieve our wildest dreams, while providing the support and acceptance for others to do the same. Anything else is the exact antithesis of what the world needs.
Kristy White
Spokane, WA
How much do I admire this mother reaching out to her son? As much as I admire this son, and his compassionate response to her seeking. Meet my guest for today’s Marriage Project:
I have been known to be a softy for movies designed to make you cry, sentimental moments, and experiences of pure joy that lead to tears. Only once in my life however, can I say that I bawled at a wedding ceremony, and it was when my “moms” got married. Now, the reason I write it as “moms” is because these two women are not my parents, and in fact are only a few years older than me, but when I was a freshman in college they looked out for me, fed me, and made sure I was alright. They were, in effect, my college mothers. This past July I stood in a beautiful chapel in Riverside California as I watched my moms make a life time commitment to each other in sickness, health, better, worse, the whole bit. I cried out of pure joy. We danced the night away with parents, siblings, cousins, friends, and loved ones at our sides, celebrating the love they shared. This was a wedding to be remembered.
This is the kind of event that I want possible, not just for myself but for everyone in my life. That this kind of joy and togetherness can be shared. As my family makes baby steps, realizing slowly but surely that I will some day get married, so does our community as acceptance and understanding grows. I hope that every parent can turn to their child, as my mother did me this weekend, and ask the simple questions. “Are you seeing anyone?” “What is she/he like?” “Do you want to get married some day?” Okay maybe that last one isn’t so simple, but you get the idea. My mother took the time, put herself knowingly into an awkward situation, and reached out to her son. She even asked for my patience as she works on full understanding, but says that she wants to be there. I fully believe that one day my mother will have a front row seat at my wedding ceremony and dance with me at the reception.
Ian Sullivan
Spokane/Kirkland, WA
Several things. This story contains hate speech. I had several options when I received it. I could decide not to post it. I could edit some of the letters and pretend that softened the words. Or I could let the writer’s father be what he is: a bigoted racist who is making a point about personal liberty. I don’t believe in censorship. This is the reality of her experience. I still don’t know if I’m making the right choice, but I think this is a conversation we should have. Meet my guest for today’s Marriage Project:
When I think of our recent victory toward marriage equality, a couple of stories come to mind. Between them, they basically sum up my thoughts on the matter.
I was living in Southern California right after all the right wingers threw a fit at the decision to legalize same-sex marriage. Prop 8 came to be and protests sprung up all over. I was working at a grocery store near an expensive suburb. In that particular area, there was the suburb, a gas station, and the strip mall I worked in. Because of this, protesters who wanted a high-traffic area really only had one option.
Every day for a few weeks I would see them with their signs and petitions. They all said ridiculous things like “Save Marriage” and “Protect Families”. I ignored it pretty well, since I do thoroughly believe in the right to protest, until one day I saw this earnest little teeny-bopper standing on the corner that made my Gaydar go haywire. Now Gaydar is obviously not flawless, but a scenario enacted in my head of this kid who grew up with the angry version of Christian values who never had anyone to tell him that it was okay to be what he was. Even if I was wrong, there couldn’t be any harm to telling him to be himself, right? I had to talk to him.
So I walked up, struggling to think of what to say. Before I got the chance, the boy saw me looking at him and launched into his spiel with a passion. When he finished telling me how we have to stand up and reject the oppressors to save marriage and families (that phrase came up over and over) all I could think to ask was:
“How exactly is Marriage in danger?” He smiled, in his comfort zone. His words had the sound of mimicry and memorization.
“Well! They are trying to change the very DEFINITION of marriage!” he said.
“What if the old definition no longer applies?” He shook his head at me.
“No no, it’s like if you went into a shoe store and asked for a PAIR of shoes and they gave you two left shoes! A pair of shoes is a right and a left! That’s what a PAIR means! What would you do if you asked for a pair and they gave you two left shoes?” I was baffled by this analogy. Not that it was confusing in itself. It was confusing that a seemingly intelligent teen had bought this as a cut and dried reason why Marriage and families were in mortal peril.
So I asked him, “What if you have two left feet?” He crumpled. I felt kind of bad because his face looked like I had kicked him. Something else was in his face, though. The beginning of a question bubbling in his brain.
Some people have two left feet. The same-sex marriage “issue” has always been that simple to me.
The next part that sticks with me is something that my dad said to me once, when I was young and long before I came out. My father has toned it down a lot, but he is still quite a bit of a bigot. He is okay with homosexuals now because of me; he loves his family over everything else. He seems to think if it’s a group I am in, then they obviously can’t be ALL bad.
But this is what he said when I asked him what he thought of same-sex rights, since he was a hardcore right winger: “I really DO hate fags and niggers. But fuck it, this is America. Fags and niggers have the right to be fags and niggers just like everyone else.” I was floored. My first reaction was offense. Then I thought about his statement. He believes that everyone has a right to be free, even if he disagrees with them. It wasn’t the most PC way of phrasing it, but it is something I will never forget.
Whether we believe in same sex marriage or not, we need to stand up for our right to make our own choices. Each right not given, or taken away, sets precedence for another inch and another, until we have nothing at all. I never plan on getting married. But that is my choice, my option. I guard my freedom like a jealous lover.
The thing I hate more than anything is hypocrisy. I quite literally don’t expect anything from anyone unless they make a declaration of self. I judge them by their own standards. I judge this country for saying that we are free. For saying that we can believe as we want, say what we want and love who we want. Inalienable right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness and all that.
It is a great relief and a point of pride that we are actually taking steps to be what we say we are. It makes me have hope for this dirt clod after all.
Amanda Lee Baldwin
Read MoreIf you haven’t read novelist Sally Bellerose here’s an opportunity. This story is absolutely delightful. Meet my guest for today’s Marriage Project:
Grandmothers, Unmarried and in Love
Our four-year-old granddaughter Kennedy stands in our dining room with her hands on her hips. You know, girls can get married, Memere and Teddy, she informs us, in case we somehow missed her previous twenty assertions that her grandmothers can and should marry each other. Kennedy calls me Memere. She calls my spouse Teddy.
Kennedy is wearing the only dress I own, which she calls her wedding gown, a once bright blue, now graying, sleeveless number. Frankly, it hangs like a sack on her and is not her best look. Fortunately, with her ponytail bobbing as she hops around the room trying not to trip over yards of faded polyester, she is the most beautiful and talented bride ever to grace a ceremony. Despite the baggy dress, she looks divine each and every time she marries, which is often. Wedding is her favorite game. She is happy to marry any gender. And, to alarm the same-sex marriage is a slippery slope folks, she will, in a pinch, marry her beloved Lamby, a stuffed toy of dubious species.
Teddy and I have loved each other for decades. Ours is a committed til-death-do-us-part affection. Despite an offer from my beloved son and daughter-in-law to plan the ceremony, we have not taken the state of Massachusetts up on its offer to legally sanction our union.
Our reasons for not marrying are old-fashioned political ideas that exclude the State from overseeing personal relationships. My spouse and I support other people’s reasons for choosing to marry. We get it. When couples love each other they often want to celebrate and have their relationship recognized. The social status of individuals belonging to a group that is allowed to marry is elevated and the financial incentives such as greater access to health care and tax breaks can’t be denied.
As for the religious aspect of matrimony, we dont have much patience with people who foist spiritual views on private relationships. By our reckoning, the sacred aspect of sex, love, and coupling is all the more reason for the state to divorce itself from marriage. We have always considered the separation of Church and State a splendid idea. Few of our friends agree with us, but we take heart in the fact that our neighbors in The Live Free or Die New Hampshire House of Representatives are considering a bill, (HB569) that would privatize marriage. New Hampshire would not offer any couple a marriage license, but grant domestic partnerships to straight or gay couples, leaving the legal/contractual side to the state and the sacred covenant side to the religious, spiritual, or secular choices of the couple.
In May of 2004, after the Supreme Judicial Court of Massachusetts ruled that it was unconstitutional under our states constitution to allow only heterosexual couples the right to marry, our same-sex-couple friends began marrying in droves. It was the spring of backyard barbeques, solemn Church services, and barefoot on the beach clam bakes to celebrate the legal wedlock of men and women in tuxes and women and men in yards of flowing shiny fabric. These gatherings were celebrations of the queer communitys acceptance as a legitimate part of society as well as ceremonies to honor the love of the brides or grooms. It was at one of these backyard pot lucks that we became aware that the choice not to marry needed support. Some of the guests disapproved of the fact that Teddy and I decided not to partake of this historic moment by kneeling at the altar of matrimony. More than one couple was personally offended. The extreme pro-marriage position being that if a couple can marry, said couple should marry, and if the couple didnt marry one or both parties in the couple was not committed to the relationship.
Teddy and I are pro-choice marriage advocates. We made our calls to the State House supporting marriage equality even as we continued to lobby for universal health care and tax reform that offers fair tax burdens to all. We would like all people, in and out of coupled relationships, to share equitable tax burdens, universal health care, and egalitarian social footing. Why should marital status, or domestic partnership status for that matter, have any relationship to healthcare or taxes? Why should people who choose not to marry be penalized?
With the exception of our adorable matrimony-loving granddaughter, those who insist that it is our civic or spiritual responsibility to get married merely make us dig in our secular unmarried heels. Periodically, we do check in with each other, just to be sure, So, you want to get married, honey? This often happens while emptying the dishwasher or right before bed after we spit out the toothpaste. So far, the answer has always been, No, thank you, dear.
Wedding is not our favorite game, but grandmotherly love has us engaging in activities we had not previously considered. For example, who knew that making up Pinky Stinky Underwear songs with socks on our hands and tee shirts on our heads could be such fun?
As Kennedy holds up the skirt of her gown and steadies herself into Timberlake boots, I ponder the miracle of her and her assertion, Girls can get married. Who can deny the civil rights gain in that statement? Kudos to Massachusetts for being the first state to offer same-sex couples the right to marry.
As I watch Kennedy stomp and twirl around the living room hugging her couch cushion bride or groom, a pillow totally unworthy of her, I am filled with familial love, gratitude, and the notion that Teddy and I might be able to have our wedding cake and eat it, too. Almost seven years after the landmark Massachusetts ruling, Kennedy, who is now using her cushy partner for a drum, is pretty much the only person left who really cares if we marry. And shes in it for the party, not the politics. Helping the kids feel secure and happy is one argument for marriage.
Im about to ask Teddy, Why not a party? Kennedy could wear a fancy dress in her actual size. Her dad could be best man. Her mom could be maid of honor. Including ourselves and her other six grandparents wed have a little crowd. Not a piece of paperwork, clergy, or a State official need be involved. We could get a bouquet of flowers from Stop and Shop for $9.99. We must have a couple of rings hanging around. It might be a hoot. We like parties. We like attention, food, music, gifts. Maybe wed receive a crock pot, a new model with a removable liner that can be put in the dishwasher.
But, I get ahead of myself. Kennedy and Teddy have not stood idle while I ruminated about wedding swag. The game of matrimony seems to be on hold for the moment. My two favorite girls are under the dining room table on their backs, giggling, Scotch-taping art to the bottom of the table, the Underbelly Cafe.
The curators crawl out. I start singing, Going to the Chapel. Teddy and I join hands and stroll around the dining room table while Kennedy belts it out, singing into a flashlight microphone. Teddy takes the handmade doily my Memere tatted seventy years ago off the coffee table and puts it on her head. Lovely, Kennedy says. I grab a walking cane my mother carved during her whittling phase. Kennedy frowns at the cane, but I tap out the beat and her skepticism vanishes. After several rousing renditions of Going to the Chapel while promenading around the first floor, I broach the subject of marriage. What do think, should we get married, have a little party? I wink at my spouse. Teddy just stares at me, perhaps because Ive never winked at her before.
She and Kennedy give each other a look. Our granddaughter explains, You just got married. She holds up her fingers. Three times, Memere.
I sit on the couch, disappointed – no cake, no crock pot, or, one can dream, no Dyson vacuum cleaner.
Kennedy puts her arms around me. Memere, are you okay?
Yes, honey, Memere is fine.
Im fine, but planning. I love my spouse, but Im a set-in-my-ways dyke, and I dont need the State involved in our relationship twenty-odd years after we got together. There are all kinds of gestures, ways of honoring a relationship. A couple can order a lemon cake with coconut frosting, buy tulips for themselves and a wrist corsage for their grandchild without feeling coerced into marriage assimilation. A couple can waltz around the living room, unmarried, and be perfectly happy together for twenty, thirty, forty years, or more.
Sally Bellerose
Northampton, MA
I love these stories about accepting families. They give me great hope for all of us. Meet my guest for today’s Marriage Project:
Growing up, I was very fortunate. My mother never cared that I liked girls. Ive been conscious of my attraction to women since I was 5 years old. I used to make my Barbies kiss, and when my mom asked why they werent kissing Ken, I simply told her, Because I like the girls more. She never corrected me. In high school I dated a few girls. Mom never made it weird. My sisters were also supportive. They treated it like they would if I were dating boys like it was just another day. When I finally did bring a boy home to meet the family, my mom raised her eyebrows in surprise, but accepted it just as easily. She honestly didnt care who I was with, as long as I was happy.
When I went to college, I met a guy I really liked. We had a lot in common, and he made me laugh. Six months went by, and he proposed. I was in shock. I was 19 years old, and the last thing on my mind was marriage. I accepted, but on the condition we would have a very long engagement. He was so excited, and I didnt want to disappoint him. Two years went by, and I was feeling a lot of pressure to get married. It was so important to him and his family. I conceded, but as soon as I said yes, our relationship took a huge turn. He became very jealous and controlling. We tried to go to counseling, but our marriage eventually ended.
After my first marriage, I thought I would never get married again. Then I met my current partner. He is amazing. His mind is the most beautiful wonder I have known surpassed only by his heart. The package he came in does not matter. He doesnt care if we get married or not. The love and commitment are there. Together we attended several weddings, including the wedding of our friends Mary and Jill. Watching an entire community come together to celebrate their devotion was inspiring. I really felt at that moment that marriage is wonderful! You just have to make sure you do it with the right person. My partner is the first person I have ever truly WANTED to marry. Even though we might never get married, just knowing that I could always change my mind at my own pace has been incredibly therapeutic.
But while the option is there for me, it is not for others. It kills me inside to know that if I wanted to, I could run down to the courthouse and commit myself legally to the one I love but that it is only because we fit into a narrow-minded, rigid social rule. I could have benefits that are currently denied to others. What if Seth had been a Sierra? I fall in love with a persons mind, and it is not based on sex or gender. Love is love, so why should we put a label on which kind is acceptable? Were all human, and we all deserve the same rights. We all deserve to express our love, no matter what form it comes in. I want to believe that we are part of a world that is becoming more tolerant, more loving, more understanding. My mother gave me my first lesson in empathy, and every day I meet others like her. We DO deserve this. All of us.
Nicole Mohrmann
Spokane, WA
Fourteen years. And we are ready. We are so ready. Meet my guest for today’s Marriage Project:
Youre next.
In my teenage years, I heard that a lot, at weddings of my siblings, or one of my best friends. Oh my god, the fear, the dread, the horror of hearing someone say that to me. The image instantly forming in my mind was of me in a formal white wedding dress (bleck, hack, hack, bleeeck!) on the arm of my father, walking up the aisle of our church to marry some dude. Maybe at least I would like my dude okay. But that wouldnt be fair to him, would it? To have a wife that merely tolerated him on the best days. And to have 2.4 children with him? You must be joking.
In college I started to figure things out. Thats a whole other story I could tell you about maybe another day. My point is, I started to understand what the big deal was all about, why two people would want to form a lifetime bond with each other. I started to see it in shadows at first. I stumbled through relationships like everyone else did, thinking that this one was the one, only to realize that maybe she really wasnt, or maybe I really wasnt.
It took me a while to find the one. Weve been together fourteen years now. Weve lived in three states, lost loved ones together, nursed each others physical and emotional wounds, supported each other with money and time, and fought a few times. Weve learned how to do that better, but more than that, weve learned how to love each other better. I would be adrift without her.
We thought about a commitment ceremony early on in our relationship. (For the uninformed, in some parts of America a commitment ceremony is gay talk for a wedding.) Now when we talk about it, more practical things come into the discussion, like how we really should use the money to hire a lawyer to draw up a good Will instead. Because you see, in the state we live in, we cant do both. We cant plan and pay for a wedding and assume all of the legal securities and obligations will automatically follow after we say, I do.
And so we use our fourteen years like a bond, a statement that lets others know were serious about this thing. Thats what we have right now. And its funny how people react when we tell them weve been together for fourteen years. They usually nod with appreciation, like weve done something marvelous.
Youre next.
Oh, the joy that would fill my heart. That would be marvelous.
Joy Malone (no relation)
Lexington, KY
A woman told me she wrote eight drafts before she realized she couldn’t contribute to the Marriage Project. “I’m just so angry,” she said. And she meant about the naivete. The fact that we rarely discuss the consequences of marriage rights. The end won’t be a breakup. The end, if it comes, will be a divorce.
And partly we want that, right? We want the grief of a divorce. After fifteen years, it’s not a fucking breakup, man. It’s your life. Your life is being torn into pieces and those pieces deserve documentation. Except. Except divorce is fucking horrific. I wouldn’t wish divorce on Rick Santorum. It’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever experienced. Why are we fighting over this chair? It’s not even comfortable. Keep it. For fuck’s sake. You’re supposed to love me. How can you behave like this if you love me?
And that’s how we learn that love has checked out. Welcome to the great divorce. Welcome to the consequences of failure. It’s not just sad anymore. Now it comes with paperwork. And custody agreements. And spousal maintenance. And divided assets. And attorneys. Something has died and you’re brawling over the corpse’s stuff. It’s a funeral. It’s spoiled bounty. And it can go on for years. A gradual, permanent souring.
I agree with her. We should prepare ourselves for the consequences of marriage equality. (In any breakup with kids, you’ve learned this already. If there’s a kid, it’s always a divorce, paperwork or no.) This is an exciting time. The fact that we get to debate about the consequences of being able to marry is a fucking dream. But the reality is that there are consequences. And they suck. And the last thing you ever want to consider is how you will protect yourself. But you must. You must consider how you will protect yourself. In the end.
Read MoreWill Washington State let me get married next week? Probably not. We don’t know for sure, but word is the haters got enough signatures to insure Washington voters get to have a say in whether or not I’m allowed to marry my wife with the state’s legal acknowledgement. And it has been interesting how many comments have gone something like: Don’t we have real issues to focus on?
Real issues. Something more real than my right to marry the woman I love AND have the same rights and responsibilities for that commitment that straight people do. Something more real than the legal action my ex-husband has taken against me because he is convinced he and his wife are a legitimate family and my wife and I are a couple who just happen to hang out with a kid sometimes. And he is convinced, apparently, that there’s a judge in this state who agrees with him — that my wife is an “uninvited third party” — a judge who will sanction his relationship as more valid than mine, because the state recognizes his relationship as more valid than mine. A judge who will pretend not to get the code of “adult” and “inappropriate” as gay gay gay.
Only the state has granted me legitimacy. The state legislators voted for marriage equality. The governor signed it. My elected state representatives believe I should have full marriage rights under state law. My president believes I should have full marriage rights under the law. In fact, a clear majority of people in this country believe I should have full marriage rights under the law.
But probably not next week. Maybe in the fall, when the measure is on the ballot and we all get a say in whether or not my wife and I are as legit as my ex and his wife. Man, I wish this were a real issue. One of those issues that actually matters and affects people’s lives. Instead of my silly gay agenda to be treated like everybody else.
Read MoreWill Washington State let me get married next week? Probably not. We don’t know for sure, but word is the haters got enough signatures to insure Washington voters get to have a say in whether or not I’m allowed to marry my wife with the state’s legal acknowledgement. And it has been interesting how many comments have gone something like: Don’t we have real issues to focus on?
Real issues. Something more real than my right to marry the woman I love AND have the same rights and responsibilities for that commitment that straight people do. Something more real than the legal action my ex-husband has taken against me because he is convinced he and his wife are a legitimate family and my wife and I are a couple who just happen to hang out with a kid sometimes. And he is convinced, apparently, that there’s a judge in this state who agrees with him — that my wife is an “uninvited third party” — a judge who will sanction his relationship as more valid than mine, because the state recognizes his relationship as more valid than mine. A judge who will pretend not to get the code of “adult” and “inappropriate” as gay gay gay.
Only the state has granted me legitimacy. The state legislators voted for marriage equality. The governor signed it. My elected state representatives believe I should have full marriage rights under state law. My president believes I should have full marriage rights under the law. In fact, a clear majority of people in this country believe I should have full marriage rights under the law.
But probably not next week. Maybe in the fall, when the measure is on the ballot and we all get a say in whether or not my wife and I are as legit as my ex and his wife. Man, I wish this were a real issue. One of those issues that actually matters and affects people’s lives. Instead of my silly gay agenda to be treated like everybody else.
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