I’m heading to Ohio this weekend ideally to find a dress for the wedding.
The title of this post is twofold:
First, I really do think it will be fun to go dress shopping with my mom but second I think this will be a weekend where I will have to “come out” over and over again.
Let’s not forget that opposite-gender couples are the default. Which means each time some nice elderly lady in the dress shop asks my soon-to-be husband’s name I will have to correct the record. It’s obnoxious. It’s annoying. It is what it is. Folks are just not conditioned (yet) to think of all love as being “marriage possible.”
My dad likes to say that my being a lesbian is no one else’s business which is why he doesn’t feel the need to tell his friends about my life as a lesbian. Which is fine. He’s totally accepting and wants to participate in the wedding ceremony, but what he (and I suspect lots of straight allies) doesn’t get is that sometimes gay men and lesbians don’t get a choice in our “telling.” We have to come out again and again because it’s a necessity.
Wedding dress shopping is just one example, but there’s emergency contact forms where I have to explain what “partner” means, convincing the gyno that no, I’m really not pregnant, proving my relationship status to Human Resources so Marianne can be added to my insurance once she goes back to school, the list keeps going.
On another note, I also have to come up with a better answer to the “You can get gay married in NC?” than “Well technically it’s not legal but we’re still having a ceremony” because no matter what I say, one of two things happens. Either A) it sounds like I am apologizing for wanting to intrude on the straight people’s exclusive right to get married or B) people look confused and I then feel the need to tell them way more than they need to know about me and my relationship in order to somehow legitimize my wanting to get married at all.
Sometimes I really do want to scream from the rooftops : We’re here! We’re queer! Get used to it! And o, by the way, we want to get married.
How tall a building you think David’s Bridal is, anyway?