What A Difference A Gay Makes

I got engaged this week.

That’s happy news. I’m very happy. I’ve been excited and distracted for two days. The Boss and I keep looking at each other and grinning. It feels peaceful, settled. It feels good.

Now, I’m happy, but I’m not surprised. I wasn’t unsure about him or us. We made it through a deployment to Iraq and back discussing our lives individually and what they meant for our lives collectively. We discussed finances, children, religion. Our families have welcomed us into their fold. A few months ago we bought a house together, and given the state of both the economy and the divorce rate, I’d argue committing to a mortgage is a bigger commitment than a marriage. So I’m not surprised that we’re engaged, but I’m so happy, and so excited. I often wondered if engagement/marriage would feel different than just co-home ownership/dog ownership. Now that I’m here, I realize: it is different. It feels different. After a fabulously selfish decade of young adulthood, I’m committed to something bigger than myself, and it feels wonderful.

But, I also feel like a little bit of an asshole. The morning after our engagement, I excitedly posted to Facebook my updated relationship status and spent the day posting back and forth with friends who were happy for us. It was a great feeling, until I realized: this was the same day Prop 8 officially passed in CA. While I was shouting from the rooftops the news of my upcoming marriage, some of my friends were being stripped of the right to marry at all.

The Boss asked me why I hadn’t blogged about our engagement. I didn’t really have an answer for him, except that, in a very small way , I’m a little ashamed. I’m a more privileged member of this country than some of my friends, and, as excited as I am to be getting married, I don’t feel good about flaunting that. I don’t even feel good about knowing that.

So, in addition to registering for plates and immersion blenders and whatever else Williams Sonoma will convince us we cannot start married life without, I’d like to also register as many votes as possible to the repeal of the amendments in California, Florida, Arizona, and everywhere else that honestly believes my relationship is more valid than the next. And I’d also just like to acknowledge to my friends that: I get it. I get how much this sucks. And I am so, so sorry.