Like most people who care about gay rights and the well-being of gay people, I've been following the news and events of the past week. My initial reaction to the news of the California Supreme Court decision was: Congratulations, gay marriage advocates: just in time to lose another presidential election to a Republican. Why are we pouring so many of our resources into something that affects so few of us?, I thought resentfully. Why THIS issue which is so politically confrontational and incendiary? And isn't marriage as a convention a step backward in terms of the development of human relationships? Isn't it just a servile attempt to conform to a stereotype in order to be more acceptable to people who despise us?
But when I actually spent some time thinking about it in strategic terms, I realized, well, of course: the issue is so obviously on its face a matter of civil rights and equality; it has a strong magnetic pull in terms of a general notion of "fairness"; and, besides that, it's bound to have a certain sentimental appeal to the general public (after all, who could get incensed at the idea of Ellen and Portia tying the knot?).
And it appears that this has come about at a particularly favorable time, when there is evidence of a sea change in public opinion about gays. Even to many of those to whom the idea seems distasteful, there must be a sense of: Well, hell, let them do it, who cares - as long as I don't have to watch them kiss and slobber all over each other.
To contradict a Sinatra song, marriage, it seems, IS an institute you can disparage; but it obviously does work for a lot of people. And while most of us have come in contact with toxic marriages, we are also likely to know married people who do have a beautiful, nurturing and lasting relationship which could serve as a model for others.
When a close friend told me many years ago that he was thinking about proposing to his longtime girlfriend, I said: "Why ruin a perfectly good relationship?" I was only being half-facetious, and as it turned out, I wound up serving as best man at his wedding, which, oddly enough, was also the first wedding I had ever attended.
The experience was heartbreakingly beautiful, and the rapturous and poignant emotions I felt at different times before, during and after the ceremony absolutely blew me away. Rapturous because I loved the two of them so much and realized what an incredibly powerful and courageous step they were taking; poignant because my lover had died of AIDS a few years before, and, despite the assurances of friends and family, in my heart I believed I would never again have the opportunity to fall so deeply in love.
In recent years I seem to have had spectacularly bad luck when it comes to dating and making connections with men (don't worry, I've beaten it to death with my therapist), and so I have become pretty much resigned to being a bachelor for the rest of my life. But now this gay marriage thing comes along and, to my surprise, I feel almost physically different.
In fact, on that first day when marriages became legal in California, I thought, wow, I can actually get married right here in my own city. Before that, I think I hadn't quite realized the extent to which NOT being able to marry confirmed a longstanding and deep-rooted feeling of being "less-than." It's a subtle thing that all the self-affirmation and therapy in the world can't quite erase.
And so all these conflicting emotions come to the surface, making me feel alternately elated and depressed. There's a silly, playful part of me that's saying: I want to get married NOW! Let's go, next halfway decent man who comes along! I can't wait for all this dating and courtship bullshit. But the adult in me (who, I admit, has scarcely any sway over my conduct anymore), is saying: Calm down, just keep the idea tucked away in the back of your mind. And, in the meantime, celebrate and enjoy vicariously the joys (and follies) of those lucky enough to go for the gold ... or the platinum, as the case may be.
The important thing is not, WILL I ever marry, but I CAN marry - if I choose to and if it feels right. That in itself is a beautiful thing.
[Photo of the author making drunken-best-man speech at friends' wedding.]
Around midnight one night I set up the video projector and 5-foot screen on the balcony and watched Barbarella. This time, I had composed my own soundtrack on the computer: Dionne Warwick (“Walk on by”; “Alfie”; “Theme from Valley of the Dolls”), some Vicki Carr, and other sixties-influenced or psychedelic music; and listened to it on the wireless headphones (out of consideration for my neighbors).
