When I first came out, my parents’ determination to see me married to a tall, dark, and handsome young lad the day after college graduation withered. DOMA and Don’t Ask Don’t Tell and [Self-Diagnosed] Agoraphobia still reigned supreme, you see, so the prospect of a full-fledged and “recognized” wedding of mine wasn’t all too certain or even expected.
And I was relieved.
But what with last week’s marriage equality EXPLOSION, as well as me and Luis’s latest foray into themed wedding-planning, my heart and ovaries took point, and now all I can really think about are eligible bachelorettes and white picket fences and babies and chocolate.
But how does one get gay-married? I wondered.
So as I do with all things that scare the ish out of me, I hashed out a 9-step plan:
Step 1: Be Gay
Rather…you know that pronoun you use when you talk about yourself in third-person? Be attracted at least some of the time to people who use that pronoun, too.
Step 2: Find Yourself a Person of Shared Pronoun
My mother tells me I should start hanging out in my favorite places more often, so I can meet other lesbians who share my interests. But I’m like, “Mom, if a strange woman is hanging out in my living room/refrigerator, I’ve got more to worry about than my love life.” Moreover, Harry Potter conventions aren’t happening willy-nilly these days, and I’m super worried most other Game of Thrones fans might be into the kinky stuff. So where’s an awkward lesbian to go? Bookstores. Or Arby’s.
Step 2b: Work on pick-up lines/socializing in general.
Step 3: Don’t Hide Your Weird
Because holding off about a month or to let her know about my After-Work-Bra-Removal-Celebration Dance and ability to rap along to every Eminem song doesn’t do anyone any good. It’s probably better to fly those freak flags high from the get-go. You know. Like a filter. A better filter than OkCupid’s.
Step 4: Find Mutual Weirdness
Chances are Special Lady Friend has some quirks of her own. Do they match mine? Will her indifference to orange food mean I get extra sweet potato fries when we go out? ‘Cuz if so: SCORE.
Step 5: Don’t Be Gollum
If you manage to get through steps 2-3, the next is about making your apartment look like it’s been lived in by an actual human being and not a possibly schizophrenic hobbit. So clean up so y’all have someplace to snuggle comfortably without accidentally squashing a 2-day-old Baja Fresh cup.
Step 6: Aerobicize
Strong relationships are like flippin’ MARATHONS. And you HATE RUNNING. Also you HAVE ASTHMA. But you LOVE SNUGGLING. So keep at it for as long as you can. If it still feels good. If you, like, tear something or straight-up bust a lung, that’s just bad health, so hop onto that gurney and call it a day. Contrary to popular belief, not all lesbian relationships are magic and roses from day one to forever.
Step 7: Find the LOL
These days there’re all kinds of dum-dums on dum-dum shows and dum-dum sites and dum-dum street corners saying dum-dum things about gayness. You can survive all this dum-dumness by really listening to what they’re saying. Because basically everything those dum-dums say don’t make no sense and are actually hilarious. Or make you feel like you have superpowers [Mind-Control Power! Body-Shape-Shifting Power! Toxic Saliva Power!].
Step 7b: Have Ready Answers for Awkward Questions
“Who wears the pants?” “We both wear pants. Sometimes I wear jeggings, though.”
“Who’s on top?” “Whoever has a giraffe-shaped birthmark on the back of their right knee and eats only rare steaks. At midnight.”
“But, like, how does the sex work?” “Sex isn’t work.”
“Alright, alright. But, like, how would you have kids?” “A lesbian stork.”
Step 8: Commit
You’re nowhere near the finish line, but you don’t mind. In fact, you’ve got mad runner’s high, so why not make sure you keep on this trail as long as possible? If she’s as weird as I am, she’ll appreciate a proposal at, like, Harry Potter World. Or Arby’s. As long as it’s sincere and my inhaler’s refilled and at the ready for the long road ahead, everything’ll be aight.
Step 9: PLAN THE GAYEST WEDDING EVER
Not “gay” as in [just] homosexual; gay as in “awesome.”
Here’s what I’ve got so far:
a) 2 lady protagonists;
b) I will wear a suit, maybe. Unless I find a dress that really brings out my bazingas;
c) HARRY AND THE POTTERS PLAY THE WEDDING MARCH;
d) THE WEDDING MARCH IS ACTUALLY A MEDLEY OF ALL THE GREATEST
SOUNDTRACKS OF ALL TIME;
e) We take turns walking down the aisle in…alphabetical order? Or maybe it’ll be safer
if I just stay put at the altar. Especially if I’m wearing a dress with a long train and high
f) A simple peck because our parents are there and mine once told my sisters and me
that hugging leads to sex so they probably won’t be okay with much more;
g) Also, I’m still scarred;
i) Probably with vegan options for all our gay/lesbian/PETA friends;
k) Accidentally tripping on one another’s dress train;
m) Laughing along even when my sister brings up that time I
____ ___ __________ ___ _______.
n) STICKING IT TO THE MAN [the one plus-side to those dum-dums is all gays are
badasses by default. Even if we [I] just sit around and think about gay stuff for like 30
o) Rice shower [probably from my mom’s personal stock];
p) Going someplace awesome for a week or so. Someplace super romantic. Like.
q) _____ ____ ___________ ___ _______ followed by spooning!