Site Presented By
Thursday, Nov 26, 2009
Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome rocked my world. Too bad he also slapped my face and passed out. More tales from the front lines of marriage.
Mar 3, 2004 | A long time coming
The buzzer sounded at 5 a.m. I hit the button and turned to Katie.
"Are you ready to be my legal wife?" I asked.
She kissed me and we began our morning routine. We were filled with excitement: We were heading into San Francisco to wait in line with hundreds of other gay couples for our chance to legally marry.
Katie and I had married once already. In November, we had a beautiful ceremony on a golden, sun-kissed beach in south Maui. Close friends and family surrounded us, supporting us, recognizing our love. I cried while saying my vows, overcome with emotion. It was a private, perfect day, filled with joy.
Katie and I have been together for nine years. We share dreams and goals for the future, joint bank accounts, dogs and cats. And now we had the chance to be legally recognized as a couple: Finally, we could attain the public status bestowed upon marriage.
We took BART, the public transit train, into the city, passing under the bay. Katie and I swayed to and fro with the motion of the train, smiling at each other. We got off the train at the Civic Center stop; the dome of City Hall glowed in the morning light.
News trucks sat in the square across from the building. Crews set up cameras, trained on the line snaking from the front of City Hall. My throat tightened. It was amazing to see those couples. We were all getting married!
Katie and I took our place in line -- we were 58th -- and chatted with the couples around us. City Hall opened and the line surged. We passed through metal detectors, filled out our forms and waited. Camaraderie flowed along the line; each time a couple emerged with a license, we all erupted in cheers.
Finally, it was our turn. We raised our hands, and a few keystrokes later, we were handed our forms and directed to the rotunda for our ceremony. Katie and I felt awestruck: this wasn't a simple piece of paper for us. It was a hard-earned document that gave our relationship a stamp of approval. We were no longer on the outside.
Our ceremony was on the rotunda stairs. A close friend witnessed for us, taking pictures, grinning broadly. As soon as the ceremony started, photographers and a news camera surrounded us, and I realized that we were not only making a private commitment to each other -- we were making history.
After the ceremony was over, a local news crew interviewed us. Friends saw us on the news that night. Congratulatory calls and e-mails poured in.
I take the certificate out every couple of days to gaze at it. It will soon hang on our wall, as a constant reminder of our legal marriage.
With each couple married in San Francisco, determination builds. We will never let legal marriage be taken away from us.
-- Emily Ricketts
Choosing the right one
When my boyfriend and I got engaged, I wasn't sure if I was definitely in love with him, but I was positive he would make a good life partner. Loyal, kind and dependable, Jeff did what he said he would and didn't let you down. There were things he lacked; he wasn't the most romantic, spontaneous or exciting person I'd ever met. He was shy when it came to intimate matters and dirty jokes, but I figured this, too, was not the most important thing for me.
Right after Jeff and I got engaged, I received an e-mail out of the blue from an old boyfriend, Paul. I hadn't talked to Paul for at least three years, but apparently I wasn't far from his thoughts. He and his parents still spoke of me, and he wondered what I was up to. Writing and explaining my engagement was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do.
I had truly loved Paul, a spontaneous, exciting and romantic Australian. When Paul and I broke up, it was because the distance between L.A., where he studied, and New York, where I studied, were just too far. When he returned to Australia, the distance was even harder. It wasn't because we didn't care for each other deeply.
My indecision about Jeff did not abate -- in fact, it worsened. But despite all my reservations, Jeff and I married. Our first year required all the usual roommate negotiations: Jeff snored and I didn't sleep much as I battled my own worries. What if I'd made a mistake? What if Paul had been the right choice after all?
A year and a half after getting married, I woke up one morning with a realization: If Paul wanted me badly enough, he would have said something when I told him I was engaged.
Jeff chose me, and he has continued to choose me, while waiting for me to choose him back.
The realization made me reinvest in my marriage. Jeff and I have been married for five years now. In those five years we've moved to three different states. We've been through my thesis, his dissertation and the death of his mother. There are days when I hate doing his laundry or he hates being dragged to social events, but that's normal. When I look back now, I realize I was right about the most important things for me in a life partner. Jeff shares the hardest burdens of life with me, and its greatest joys.
