At noon on Wednesday, I'm joining friends at my attorney's office and am getting married. What's sad is that my first act there will be to dissolve the domestic partnership with the person with whom I've spent the last twenty years of my life. Such is the state of marriage in Florida and the United States.
Update [2005-9-13 17:26:32 by kansasr]:
Just a quick note to express my thanks to the KOS community - you are very much like family. I never expected to see such response when I got home this afternoon. As always, you challenge me with your thoughts and opinions and often move me with your humanity. Would that the rest of the world was more like what I find here.
The reason is simple - I'm obeying the letter of the laws so that I can get the health insurance I believe I am entitled to. If I were a woman, I would be able to legally marry the man I've spent the last twenty years with and automatically receive health care benefits. But since his benefits come from the United States government, I know there's no way my relationship will be recognized in my lifetime. So this seems like a logical course of action.
There are four of us involved, two same-sex couples. Two of us have no health care benefits; two receive them courtesy of the federal government. We've decided to marry each other's partners and claim what is should be rightfully ours. Since we're not doing it to skirt immigration laws, our attorney advises we're within our legal rights.
There's nothing that requires us as a married couple to maintain a joint home or joint anything for that matter. Such is the sanctity of marriage as defined by the state of Florida. Of course, since we didn't take the state premarital course, we were required to wait three days and pay and additional $35 each. (Of the over 500 premarital course providers in my county, almost all are religious institutions. - praise be to the American Taliban.)
It was a bit entertaining when we went to apply for our licenses. My partner and I arrived at the county courthouse first and proceeded to go to the counter and pull out license applications and begin to fill them out. From the frequent "can we help you?" from the clerks behind the desk, it was clear they thought they had some sort of same-sex marriage protest looming before their eyes. Fortunately, our "fiancées" arrived within a few minutes and we were suddenly acceptable to the state of Florida.
I had considered some sort of protest, but calmer heads prevailed. I thought it would be interesting, with a television reporter in tow, to apply for same-sex licenses and, when rejected just say, "ok, it's not that important, we'll just marry these women here, if you insist." But we are dealing with an arm of the federal government (one which has a lot of "military" clout), and you never know about their vindictiveness.
So, there won't be any cake and we aren't registered anywhere. None of us have invited our parents or family and have told very few of our friends. Our attorney is about the only person for whom this will be a special day. His fees for providing all of the legal documents required for same-sex couples these days, as well as our prenuptial agreements, should make him feel happy about being asked to give away the brides.
We're talking about taking a group honeymoon to New York City to see some shows - maybe we can get a couple of honeymoon suites and secretly change rooms after we've checked in. Or maybe we should just go to San Francisco where they'd see the humor in all of it! We'll probably just go to the gay restaurant down the street and have a nice lunch.
During most of the gay marriage debate I've been some what ambivalent about what you called it. Call it marriage, call it civil unions, call it domestic partnerships - as long it came with the same rights and privileges, I didn't think I cared. That has changed now. If my long term relationship isn't worthy of the exact same recognition by the state as a same sex relationship, then it demeans me and truly does make me feel like a second class citizen. This debate is not about what you think this does to the institution of marriage. It is about what it says to me. Don't tell me to ride at the back of the bus because to do otherwise takes away your rights to ride at the front. Don't tell me to be thankful I have my own water fountain when I want to use the same one as everyone else. And don't tell me that what I want are special rights. There's nothing special in this country about being treated the same as everyone else.
But for me, it's a bittersweet day. Yes, I'll no longer have to worry about getting sick and the financial burden that could create for my partner. I'll be able to put my name back on the deed to our home because I won't have to worry about some health care provider trying to attach my share of it. And I won't miss having to deal with the dehumanizing public clinics that have become my home for the past three years. But I will miss checking the "married" box on forms and secretly knowing I meant my life long partner. Now I truly must say, "I'm married." Thank you Jeb and George.