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And we didn’t know how long this window of opportunity would be open. Maybe marriage could get us there, get us to a place that was finally close enough.
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There was a feeling like we couldn’t get close enough, like I needed to be in his skin in order to make this wanting go away. This was an intense connection, and things were moving fast. We were one month in to living together, and I asked him to marry me. You can see where this is going, can’t you? I was young, unsure about my future, swept up in political fervor for the first time, and madly in love. I was less than a year into a new relationship. This was amidst a flurry of gay marriage activity across the country, and it was the first time in my world that the idea of getting hitched even entered the border of reality.
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Then early in 2004, when I was living in Los Angeles, San Francisco started to issue marriage licenses to same-sex couples. I was out, but quiet, and for the next 10 years that’s how I lived.
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I only told friends, not family, didn’t answer questions, and didn’t fight back when the name-calling happened. The door didn’t burst open, it quietly squeaked. What if there was some hot, closeted dude who didn’t know where to turn? I had to help him. The only way I was going to get some was if I admitted that the accusations were true. I tried to stay quiet about it, to not further the torment, but when I turned 16 the sex urges relentlessly raged. Even though I never spoke about being gay, kids, family members, and even teachers called me a faggot and did all the other doucheries that cruel heterosexuals do to kids they suspect aren’t straight. Early in high school, I did all of the things most gay boys do in small towns - feigned crushes on girls, tried out for football with disastrous results, attempted to deepen my voice through daily exercises. I grew up in a small Texas town that loved football, church, and trailer parks. So here’s the story of my big, fat gay divorce. But imagine the added humiliation involved when committed couples are fighting for their right to tie the knot, and you give the institution of marriage the big middle finger by not being able to make your own marriage work. 8 went into effect, I was gay married and then divorced within a year. If we’re fighting for equality in holy matrimony, we also need to be fighting for equality in royally screwing it up. No, my secret is this: Yes, gay marriage is long overdue, but the thing I believe in, the thing we really need to get going, is a whole slew of messy gay divorces, and I mean stat. The secret isn’t that I’m gay - a poorly placed Playgirl magazine outed me on that one years ago. In any conversation on the subject, my comments stay general and I bite my tongue.īut I’m coming out about it now - loud, public, and proud. Doesn’t matter which camp is talking about the topic - gay friends excited about the possibility of legalizing their decades-long relationships or religious relatives concerned that it will lead to people marrying their pets. See, there’s this secret I’ve been carrying around, and it rears its ugly head every time the subject of same-sex nuptials comes up. As the fight for gay marriage begins to hit a fevered pitch in 2013, I feel like it’s high time that I come out about something.