I’m Coming Out…Again…and Again…and Again…
I have been coming out of the closet my entire adult life. I have to say that since my first “official” coming out, I have not gone back “in” in any way, but I consistently have to announce my gayness to just about everyone I meet for the first time. I am told it’s because I’m straight acting. I don’t really know what straight acting means, really, but I get it all the time. Here is an example of a very common exchange:
“You’re gay? Really? Wow, you do NOT act gay AT ALL!” Says some random straight person.
“Catch me sometime when I’m having sex, then I act REALLY gay.” Says me.
I get this when I meet people at parties, or bars, or have a new co-worker, or when I’m the new co-worker, or when I get the “Next of kin” question when seeing a new doctor. It’s slightly annoying, but I’ve gotten used to it. What it did not prepare me for, ironically, was a whole new need to come out to my family and friends.
For those of you who didn’t know, up until 2015 gay marriage was not legal in the United States. Oh, sure, a few states “legalized” it, but if you crossed the border, you were screwed. Among the discussions and debates regarding equal rights was the option of creating “Civil Unions” which would grant LGBT people all of the same rights and privileges as marriage does without actually calling it marriage. Some people thought this was another example of the marginalization of our community, others thought it was a good idea. My partner and I were firmly on the side of “Civil Unions”.
Let’s face it, the straight community has screwed up marriage to the point that it is a caricature of what it is supposed to be. Young girls being married off to old men, women being considered property, divorce-remarry-divorce-remarry-divorce-remarry, polygamy, cheating on spouses, and, god help us all, the Bachelor and the Bachelorette-a TV game show consisting of egocentric, narcissistic, heterosexual whores. Weddings are ridiculously expensive traditions wrapped in uncomfortable clothing, cold food, and crappy gifts coupled with the hope of a decent open bar.
Shoot me in the head before I even CONSIDER getting married.
But…a civil union? Now that sounds nice. Simple, uncomplicated, same legal rights as marriage without the marriage…sign me up!
Alas, it was not to be. Obergefell v. Hodges was decided in the U.S. Supreme Court on June 26th, 2015. Gay marriage was now legal across the country. I was working at a bank when the news came out, and I had to excuse myself to the backroom for a little bit. The decision brought tears to my eyes…and I am NOT a crier. I was elated while I texted/posted/called friends and family…and then I got angry. It bothered me that after being with my partner for almost 25 years at the time, I was now able to get married, wait a year, and then celebrate my “One Year Anniversary”. First, we were denied rights, and now it felt like I was about to have the majority of our relationship together erased. It reminded me of the time I was training in another branch in Streetsboro, Ohio. It’s a small town with a small town mentality, which means that my being gay was NOT appreciated. At one point, the entire staff was gathered in the branch managers office having what looked like a meeting. I was not asked to join, so I invited myself. Here is the exchange I had,
“Hey, what’s going in here?” I asked.
“Oh, we’re having a contest to see whose been married the longest! So far (insert name here-I’ve forgotten it) is the winner with seven years.” Responds a dumpy piece of trash with awful hair.
“Oh, well, Tommy and I have been together for almost 25 years!” I proclaimed proudly, getting ready to steal the title.
“That doesn’t count.”
Nope. Not getting married. Not gonna risk erasing the most important person in my life to succumb to heteronormativity. Nope. Nope. Nope.
Fast forward a few years after I had left the bank for about nine months, but then came back. It was then that I learned that having my partner, not my husband, on my health insurance was considerably more expensive than I thought. As a partner, not a legal spouse, I had to pay taxes on the portion of the insurance that my employer paid for as if if were actual income. That means that several hundred bucks was taken out of EVERY paycheck. When I noticed this, I texted Tommy:
“Insurance is costing us too much money. We’re getting married.”
To which he responded:
“Kay”.
VERY romantic.
The problem, of course, is that we didn’t want to be married, so we decided to keep it a secret. A great friend of ours had a boyfriend who was an ordained minister and she offered to have him do it in our backyard, which would have been great, but he was abusive and she finally dumped him. We were thrilled for her, but then we needed someone to actually do the marriage. So our best friend, and sister of my heart, Barb went online and became a minister herself! We got our license downtown, went to our favorite martini bar, Barb asked us if we wanted to marry each other, we said, “Sure.”, we signed the paper, got drunk, and threw it in the mail box.
Done, nice and easy…and no one knew.
The problem was that neither Tommy nor myself are particularly good at lying and keeping secrets. We both have big mouths and, more often than not, blurt out just about anything to anyone. So, about a year later, we’re over at my Mom’s house with family when stupid me makes a reference to our “wedding”.
“Wait…you two are married? When the hell did this happen? Why weren’t we invited?”
Shit.
So we had to tell the whole story about why we didn’t want to get married and blah blah blah, and blah blah blah. They were not happy. Also not happy were the scores of other friends and family who eventually found out (almost exclusively through our big mouths) and were mad about not being told. We had to come out as married again…and again…and again. It would have been less work to send out hand written invitations and announcements:
No need to save the date! We’re married! No gifts, no suits, no cold food, you’re welcome!
Just last week I had to come out again. I was over at Tommy’s parents house and his niece came to visit. She was so excited about going to San Diego to be in her older sister’s wedding, she couldn’t wait to go. She, however, didn’t want a big, expensive wedding. Of course, idiot me responds,
“Tell me about it. That’s why Tommy and I did our wedding at a bar.”
“Wait, what? You two are married?”
Shit. Blah blah blah and blah blah blah. I just can’t stop coming out as married.
This is not a personal attack on the brave souls who fought both legally and physically to secure our right to get married. It’s just a personal opinion. I still can’t stand going to weddings, and I’m a bit upset that my holier-than-thou reason not to go to them is gone (I’m sorry, but until ALL people have the same right to get married, I cannot, in good conscience, attend your wedding. Thank you.), but I am more than happy to take advantage of the rights our marriage has afforded us. God knows enough blood has been shed to get to this point. The fact that a hospital cannot deny us access to one another, or that we can file joint tax returns, or that I can cover Tommy on my insurance and not pay what amounts to a fine to the government, is simply amazing and I am beyond grateful for it. I always will be. But the history of marriage, and let’s be clear HETEROSEXUAL marriage, is not a pretty one. I understand that it has a deeper meaning to a lot of people, but the deeper meaning to me is that it is a right and a privilege that was not afforded to all people. I don’t believe anyone has a right to claim that God has blessed this marriage, but not that one. After all, the marriage contract is financial and legal, not religious, no matter where the wedding takes place.
But there better be an open bar, damnit!