"What followed was a remarkable display of emotional acrobatics on my part. As soon as Jack woke up, I informed him that he “better not make a fool out of me,” followed by a quick “LOL,” and then, “But seriously. I’m going to look like a real idiot if we just sit here like losers and keep dating.” Then I tweeted, “@jackantonoff get on it, yo,” followed by my immediate and all-consuming regret.
Jack didn’t text back, which is entirely unlike him, and it wasn’t until I got home and looked him in the eye that I realized just how little the concept of marriage had been on his mind. Partly that’s because we were busy, and the ruling caught him by surprise, and his politics were pure and not as self-interested as mine were starting to feel. But partly, I suppose, it’s because, as a man, his entire life has not been shaped by a desire for, or a rejection of, a fluffy white dress.
My desire for a wedding predated my ability to imagine any other kind of positive attention for myself, any other moment of triumph in my life. I didn’t want to have a gallery opening, like my mom, or to perform surgery, like my aunt. A wedding would do the trick. My desire for a wedding predated my ability to imagine anyone loving me for who I was and for who I might become. Now, having mostly become that kind of person, my desires were opaque even to me. I felt lonely, crazy, and guilty. I felt unsure.
It just so happened that we were scheduled to attend a wedding that weekend, a beautiful affair in Portland, Maine, that shirked some of the stuffier traditions (in fact, the bride wore navy, and her mother donned a pair of what appeared to be satin pajamas). The couple also exchanged thoughtful, nonreligious vows, overseen by a naturopathic doctor. Then a yacht-rock band played the night away. If there were ever an example of the non-weddingy wedding of my dreams, here it was. And I was happy for my friends. And I loved the food. I held Jack’s hand and said, “Let’s not talk about marriage for a while, O.K.?” He looked grateful and relieved. I felt unburdened but sad. The subject wasn’t particularly loaded for him. It never would be.
Just two days earlier, we had been living in a world where marriage wasn’t an option, or, rather, was an option that we had postponed for ourselves. And, instead of a hardship, this limbo had been a saving kind of relief, a limitless breathing space that allowed our relationship to grow without any of the tortured questions of legal commitments and ring settings that seem to plague so many sooner than they might want. Had a perfectly earnest moral and political stance actually been a convenient stalling tactic?"
Read the full article at The New Yorker.
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