This Time I’m Wearing My Own Clothes To My Wedding
One week from today I will be married in the rotunda of San Francisco City Hall. My soon-to-be husband and I have been together for over ten years and even though we keep saying to ourselves nothing will really change…it really does feel some kind of wonderful to have it finally happen.
You see for us, gay marriage was not even a dream a decade ago. I was born in 1950, he is a year older, born in 1949. We both married women in our early 20s thinking that society would never accept our hidden desires; to have a stable emotional relationship with someone you were physically attracted to. Homosexuality was still listed as a deviant behavior in the medical books on the day we both married women in the 1970’s. In a rented tux, in a world that called me sick, I vowed to uphold the laws of Moses, swear undying love to a woman I had sex with while dreaming of a man’s body. Six groomsmen and my own father in clothes we did not own stood by me and witnessed this expensive, religious, lovely charade.
I am not making excuses for entering into my first marriage with false pretenses. I knew I was gay, experienced gay sex before my wedding day, and knew it was going to be a tough go. But I think a lot of straight grooms have second thoughts on the big day for as many good reasons; doubt, honesty, pressure to conform, family obligations, etc.
I did hurt my ex-wife’s expectations of her life plan. Well more than that actually, I probably ruined her life for a few years with my coming out. She had suspicions of course, but you really only see what you want to see and even though my teenage son figured it out one afternoon when I eyed a hot waiter while he eyed a buxom waitress at the same restaurant.
This time will be different. Not only have over four decades passed, but a seismic shift in the political, religious and societal scene on marriage equality. My fiancé and I shopped together for the slacks, shirt, sweater and even matching belts that a city clerk will preside over our union. To be frank, the rabbi that married us had the personality of a cardboard box and left the rabbinate a month after my first rented tux wedding to become an accountant.
In my own skin, in my own clothes, with full love and devotion, I am getting married next week. Sorry about the first one, I had my doubts, remember?