So, hey, I’m getting married on Saturday!  There are a million things to do, mostly packing, since we are doing the damn thing in the Great White North, otherwise known as Canada, and we are heading there tomorrow.  It is currently a balmy 73 degrees in Vancouver, and Yahoo! weather tells me in intends to stay that way for the remainder of the week, except, of course, on SATURDAY.  Our wedding is, thankfully, indoors, and Yahoo! weather is, equally thankfully, almost always wrong, so I am placing that tidbit of information squarely in the category of Small Things We Have Been Told Not To Sweat.

And while I am beyond excited to get married, and see all my family, and wear a fancy dress, and be the absolute center of attention, there’s one little nagging thing that keeps coming up (Surprisingly, it’s not the fact that I have yet to write my vows.  I mean, yeah, I should probably get on that, but I’mma slay you with multiple paragraphs about something else right now).

I keep having to say I’m getting “legally married.”  Or, if I fail to include the qualifier, I then have to explain to those who know I’m gay that it is legal, and to those that don’t that no, J is not a man (not matter how androgynous her name might be).  I know it might not seem like a big deal, but you straight people out there- did anyone ever, when you announced with a giant grin, that you were getting married, inquire as to your marriage’s legality BEFORE they offered you congratulations?

I get why people ask, I really do.  I mean, we’re forcing 60 people to fly to Canada just so we CAN say that our marriage is at least legally recognized in the location where it will be solemnized, and that was a major concern for the both of us, even though this marriage will have no legal standing in the United States.  And while there was a glimmer of hope last week that we might be able to have a legal Californian wedding sometime this year, the Ninth Court of Appeals has extended the stay on Judge Walker’s decision until they hear the case, which, as of this writing, won’t happen until AT LEAST December. AND, even if we were to be able to get married in California, it would still mean DICK-ALL at the federal level, and I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but people tend to move every once in a while, and I’m not shelling out money to the state of California so that I can magically become UNMARRIED, should we up and move to Dallas (this has, unfortunately, been put on the table).

I even get it from a strategic standpoint- having the appeal go to the Ninth Court means it has a passing shot at heading to the Supreme Court, which means a change in federal law, and legal gay marriage NATIONWIDE becomes perhaps manageable within my lifetime.

But it’s heartbreaking at the same time.  Maybe my marriage isn’t legal (where I live), but the commitment is real.  The thoughts and feelings and arguments and reconciliations that went into making this relationship good enough to turn into a marriage are real.  The sums of cash we spent to make it happen and that our guests are shelling out to attend is MOTHERFUCKING real.

Ah, shit.  I don’t really have any grand conclusion to draw, other than this:

Dear Courts of Law:

Please, please, pretty please, get your shit together.  Failing that, allow me to decide whether or not straight people can get married, because it’s only fair.

I’m serious,

Big Gay Homo

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