Stocksy
In 2013, I wrote about coming out in Glamour. I wrote that my blossoming relationship with a woman named Andrea made me realize that I wasn’t simply straight. I'm happy to say that Andrea and I got married in April.
Three years ago I wrote, “My coming-out story is unfinished.” I’m not much closer to knowing exactly what it means to be “gay” because I’ve loved both men and women. Here’s what I have learned since then: Although I recognize that I am lucky to have directly avoided many of the injustices that the LGBT community faces—harassment, hate crimes, and just this week, an RNC committee voting to keep the words “LGBT” out of the GOP platform, I proactively live as a proud member of this community. I hope that my openness can help others find their story.
As a wedding gift to Andrea, I added some passages to our story—in the form of our wedding vows—and even made some predictions about our future.
November 8, 2014, early evening
I can’t believe that I’m walking down the aisle. I see the groom in front of me—a cute guy with blonde hair and sweet eyes. I’m wearing one of the fanciest dresses I’ve ever owned, and beautiful shoes that hurt but glisten, and my hair and makeup are impeccable. I’m happy for the bride, but grateful that it’s not me—I’m one of her bridesmaids. I’m not ready to get married yet, because Andrea isn’t ready yet. But as I walk, I think, I hope she’ll be ready soon.
June 2, 2011
I made Andrea a birthday card, and texted her that I have feelings for her. She was hesitant to do anything about it, because we had just come off a period of not talking (it took me a long time to understand the feelings I was having for her). But I insisted that I wanted to date casually, and that it had to be a secret. We went to Cheesecake Factory last night. By the time I was home, our relationship was exclusive, I had told people about it, and Andrea and I had said, “I love you” to each other. So much for casual dating. I think, I don’t know exactly who I am but you make me not care.
Late July 2011
Andrea and I are at her parents' beach condo in Ocean City, Maryland, and it’s the perfect getaway. We spend our days tanning, swimming, and making out in the ocean; we don’t care what people think of us. After dinner, she plays a song for me by James Morrison. She says it describes the way she felt about me when I was confused. I'm gonna stay, when you just wanna fight, when you're closing your eyes 'cause you don't wanna love me. I start to cry. All of the feelings that haunted me for a year—confusion, love, and fear—came streaming out of my eyes at once. I could cry all night on her shoulder because I’m coming to terms with the fact that I’m gay. I could tell her to stop texting me, like I had done when I got scared, and she’d still be there. We haven’t been together for long but I’d marry you tomorrow if you asked me to.
January 17, 2015
Andrea told me to dress up, to wear something fancy; we were having a special date at home. It normally takes me a few tries to pick out an outfit, but it was easy this time: a short, pink dress, a beige sweater that Andrea got me, nude heels, simple jewelry. I curled my hair just a little and painted on a cat eye and a pink lip. I spent the afternoon reading magazines and looking out the window at the winter day while I listened to Andrea working in the kitchen. I felt like everything was right. Andrea told me to treat myself to an at-home manicure and picked out a silvery polish that she thought would look good on me. I thought, Could this be the night!?
And then I told myself to push that thought aside. There were so many ducks out of place before Andrea would propose: Where would we get the money? Would our wedding be Jewish, Christian, or neither? How many people would go? Would we kiss or dance in front of the guests? We're gay. What would Andrea wear? How would she tell her mom, or her dad, or her friends, or her Grammy that she had chosen to marry a woman?
She cooks me chicken piccata and asparagus and cheesecake for dessert. Then, Andrea asks me to dance. Her voice is shakier than usual, and then I was sure. She gets down on one knee, and pretends to tie her shoe. It’s so quick that I barely notice. Before I’ve processed it, she’s already reaching under the couch for a small, hidden box. She tells me that she thinks we are good together. She opens the box. I’m gay and I’m grown up now and I want to spend my life with you.
October 2015
I just read an article during my lunch break about a middle-aged transgender woman in Australia who has come out to her mother (who has dementia) hundreds of times. Her mom always has the same, pleasant reaction to her coming out: “I’ve got a beautiful new daughter.”
When I tell someone that I’m gay, I expect one of a few types of reactions:
Most people my age say nothing, to demonstrate that they don’t see being gay as different… except for progressive or liberal people my age, who tell me that they disagree with binary gender norms and that they think everyone is a “little” gay.
Guys my age say, "You don’t look gay," which is their way of saying that I’m hot enough to have sex with.
People my parents' age and people from small towns tell me that their cousin or neighbor is gay.
My coworkers and clients and friends that are church-goers tell me that it’s not their place to judge me, because that’s for their god to do, and that they aren’t the kind of Christian who would picket my wedding...but I know they're relieved that their own daughter isn’t gay.
But I’m most surprised by this: People my grandparents’ age usually say, "That’s nice," and add that at their age, they think that people should do what makes them happy.
Sometimes, I say, "I’m engaged to a woman," or "I’m gay," or "I’m a lesbian," or "I’ve dated men and women," or "I’m bi," or I stumble through some combination of those. I still don’t know exactly how to define myself. What I do know is that I want to be with Andrea and that I wouldn’t want to be with her any less if she were a man. The other stuff is just semantics.
June 26, 2015
I’m in a frustrating meeting at work when I get a game-changing alert on my phone: The United States Supreme Court has legalized same-sex marriage nationwide. Andrea has sent me a few text messages, and then I get some from college friends, and then some more from Andrea. I can’t open them in my meeting, and I can’t wait to leave. It’s the moment I didn’t even know that I was waiting for. I’m ready if you are; now there’s no reason to wait.
April 9, 2016
I am getting married today, at 5:30 PM. We have chosen to have a quick ceremony and to be relatively private about our love. We aren't going to exchange vows, and we don’t want people to clink their glasses all night to make us kiss. We have been kissing each other in the privacy of our home for almost five years and making and keeping promises to each other for even longer. I don’t even know how to put my vows into words. I’d just be rambling about all these things that happened over time that were sort of related and sort of not. I just want you to understand my story.
April 13, 2016
My shoulders and my cheeks are sunburned, and the pedicure I got for the wedding is chipped from the sand. The weather and the scenery are beautiful, but it isn’t quite as hot as I expected. I realize that a honeymoon is just another vacation: Andrea and I had sex but it wasn’t more mind-blowing than usual; the food is special, but food always is when you didn’t have to cook it yourself; and I’m not any tanner or skinnier than I was before. This trip is, in 99 out of 100 ways, just another getaway. But every time I look down at Andrea’s left hand, I feel the honeymoon part. Our story has changed.
Looking to the Future
Andrea has taken such good care of my body these past few months. She holds my hair back when I’m sick in the morning; she rubs my feet; she makes me frozen yogurt sundaes. I feel scared sometimes about bringing a child into the world. What if I’m not a good mom? What if something happens to me? I trust Andrea to take care of us. I’ve trusted her unconditionally since our first study date in college when I told her, without even knowing her, that I thought I could be bisexual. Getting pregnant was hard, and it took longer than I thought it would, but Andrea came to every single one of my doctor’s appointments. I’ve wanted to be a mom since before I can even remember. I can’t wait to meet baby and I hope he’s just like you.
Source: http://www.glamour.com/story/i-married-the-woman-who-helped-me-realize-i-wasnt-simply-straight
No comments: