COMMUNITY ESSAY : Marital Bliss May Not Require a Bride, After All

Marriage is an institution I have long held in high regard. Maybe it was all those hours in front of the TV watching soap opera super-couples take the plunge into matrimonial make-believe. Maybe it was the not-so-subtle influence of suburbia, with its white-picket-fence mentality. Whatever the source, it was clear that the marriage bug bit me at an early age.

Of course, reality has since penetrated my fantasy world. There’s the escalating divorce rate, prenuptial agreements, in-laws. These were not issues that could be resolved in the 30 or 60 minutes I was accustomed to on television. And that fact that I’m gay? It would take a miniseries to resolve the conflict that poses.

For the longest time, I just assumed that someday I would marry a woman. I was 6 years old when I first asked a girl to elope. First, I wanted to discuss things like where we’d live, how many pets we’d have and, certainly, how we would decorate the sun parlor. To me, those were the real issues.

My proposal was rejected (she liked cats), so I moved on to the girl across the street. She was definitely the marrying kind, except that she had recently taken a bad spill on her bicycle, knocking out her two front teeth. The wedding pictures would be a joke, but, I thought we could look into cosmetic surgery. I waited until she was in a really good mood to pop the question. We were playing four squares outside and I decided to let her win. She was ecstatic. I tried to kiss her, but she jumped back and ran into her house crying. So much for creating a mood.

It wasn’t until I turned 13 that the idea of marriage began to sour. I still liked the idea of a big ceremony, the white picket fence. But there was one tradition that I had not been aware of--the wedding night. I thought of ways to avoid that: I could throw up or leave her right after the ceremony. Or I could just marry Lynda across the street as I had imagined. She wouldn’t want to have sex with me, and since the feeling was mutual, it would be the perfect cover.

High school hit me like a ton of bricks. All my friends were dating. The guys were all involved in sports. I wanted to be in the honor classes with the nerds, but I wasn’t smart enough. I was also confused and obese. It was around this time that I realized Lynda wouldn’t work out as my bride. In the midst of planning the perfect wedding, I had neglected an important ingredient: love. I did not love Lynda. Not the kind of love that makes one anticipate a wedding night with excitement instead of dread. I had discovered what that kind of love felt like and I didn’t want to lose it. The only problem was that his name was Jason and he was my best friend.

I first realized I had feelings for Jason when we traveled to Florida with the band and slept in the same bed. I wondered if he felt the same way about me as I did about him. Nothing transpired that week, but it was the start of our “courtship.”

Like the super-couples on the soap operas, Jason and I endured our share of heartache over the years. The time he started to date one of my close female friends stands out for me. As far as I was concerned, our “marriage” was off. I refused to talk to him and started dragging his reputation through the mud. A month later, he broke up with her and I decided to forgive him. The wedding was back on.

We tried to rekindle the spark that was our platonic friendship, but things were never the same. He was an adulterer and I had my pride. And sadly, he was straight. To this day, Jason and I rarely speak except for an obligatory “Hello,” and “What’s up?”

By the end of the year, Hawaii may become the first state to legalize same-sex marriages. A fierce debate rages across the country, with several states already threatening not to honor such a bill.

At 23, I still want to get married for many of the same reasons I did as a child. Even the wedding night sounds cool. Most of all, I want the big ceremony with all the trimmings. There might be no big white dress, but there would be organ music and flowers and lots of people--family and close friends who would watch me take that giant step into adulthood.

Marriage now would be about acceptance. After years of feeling like an outcast, I would finally be embraced by a society that treated me as a joke. Like the dreamy 6-year-old who proposed to anything in pigtails, I want to feel normal again. And I want to share that normalcy with those I cherish most--my family and friends. And the man I love.