The guy in the place with the thing

Standard

So recently in Our Fair State the voters decided it was okay to be gay.

Well, a narrow majority decided that if you’re going to be gay, you might as well be able to share in the abject horror dream within a dream that is marriage.  While you’re here.  In the state itself.  Not so much in other states, except the ten others that agree on this point.

Naturally, many individuals of the homosexual persuasion found this to be pretty exciting.  At last!  Just like the straight folk, we can kiss half our stuff goodbye if things go south!

I kid.  I’m a kidder.

Some people lined up at midnight in your larger cities.  Well, probably just the one.  Washington state really only has one large city.  The Lovely Rhonda and I don’t happen to live there, so that option was not available to us unless of course we wanted to drive for three hours in the dead of night and stand around in the chilly night air.  This would involve a babysitter and all kinds of hassle, so we opted out.

Instead we hustled the kiddies off to school and headed over to the courthouse by way of Starbucks.  Because coffee.

Once we arrived and wandered in the main door, the elderly volunteer stationed there took one look at us — sensibly-shod, traditionally-built women carrying lattes — and directed us to the second floor without asking what we were there for.  “How DID he know?” we marveled at one another.

Upstairs a very dapper African-American gent — he was so dapper that “gent” is the only word possible to describe him — instructed us to pre-register at the handy computer terminal and return to him for one of those take-a-number slips.  He even had a corsage pinned to his lapel.  We found out later that he has worked at the courthouse forever and had toiled long into the night and returned early in the morning to make sure everything went smoothly for people like us.  And he was issued the very first license, to finally marry his longtime partner.

Needless to say it took all my steely resolve not to blubber like a French soccer player.

We got our paperwork all taken care of and a photographer was on hand to take a few candid shots of us afterward.  I was not permitted to keep my latte in hand as was my wish, but apparently this is not all about me.

Afterward we drove away.

I am 45 years old.

This is the first time I will be able to legally marry the partner of my choosing.

*commence blubbering*

It comes in a plain brown wrapper!

Advertisements

3 responses »

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s