An(other) essay on gay marriage...
Jul. 29th, 2004 01:02 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
johnpalmerThis is an essay that I mentioned a while back, one that I wasn't sure it never find the right tone to write. I'm still not sure if I found it, but I realized I'm not going to get any closer.
It anyone notices any similarities, this is the second use of the character that I refer to as "Hypothetical Man".
You have to understand, there's this guy, Mr. Smartass, and he's the one who is to blame for some of this. Some of it, but not all of it.
See, there've been all these fags and lesbos whining about not getting any special rights. And I suppose I was complaining about it, a bit, so maybe Mr. Smartass had a right to say something. I don't know. But, what he did was ask me what I'd do if someone tried to break up my marriage with my wife.
I told him that if someone wanted to break me and my wife up, I'd kick his ass. And I would, if I could.
So he asked what I'd do if someone was trying to break up a friend's marriage, and the answer was the same, of course. That's what being friends is all about; you share your happy times, your sad times, and the ass-kickings, when you need to.
Then he asked about someone breaking up someone else's marriage, and it's like, he's making it like it's a big deal. I finally told him that someone ought to deal out the ass kickings if someone was trying to break up other people's marriages, b ut it wasn't gonna necessarily be me.
You got to understand, that's the way Mr. Smartass argues. He brings up something completely irrelevant. Then he makes like he got something on you. The thing is, breaking up marriages ain't nothing like keeping fags from marrying other fags, or keeping lesbos from marrying other lesbos.
It's not like fags and lesbos can have kids, and that's what marriage is about.
Okay, fine, so, yeah, if folks can't have kids, yeah, they can still get married, but the thing is, they could have kids. That means something. I think that's what it is that draws folks together. I think that's what makes it real, what makes it love, and what makes it all natural.
So that's where things stood for a couple a' weeks. Then it turns out that they're giving our marriage licenses in California, and Mr. Smartass has got this shit-eating grin on his face. Lemme tell you something, I'd figured him for straight at first, but now I don't know. I asked him, right out, and he said he wouldn’t tell me unless I was asking him for a date. 'Otherwise, it's none of your business", he said.
I figured he was straight, he didn't act like a fag, but now I wasn't sure.
He told me that a couple of fags in purchasing were going to go to California. He said he wanted me to come to the party. Actually, he called it a 'reception', like it was a real marriage. I mean, come on, it's probably not even legal. I told him I'd think about it, and I think he knew I meant 'no'.
Then I told my wife about it, and damn… she hit the roof.
She said that two of her aunts and uncles didn't want us married. She said they asked her to call it off maybe a dozen times. She said they also came to the wedding, and gave us the best gifts they could afford. She said she wasn't going to tell me who they were, but if I had to guess, I'd better take my pick of those who were cheering us loudest, rather than those who were just there for the free food and booze. They didn't like it, in fact, it pissed them off, but it was by-god a marriage, and it was our decision, not theirs.
She told me that if I didn't like a pair a fags getting married, fine, but I'd better treat them just like any other coworkers getting married.
I figured maybe I'd just not talk about it, and then I heard some late night TV guy talk about "sure, let homos get married; why shouldn't they be as miserable as us straights?" and I think I got her point.
It ain't easy. Being married is nice, let me tell you, but it ain't easy. And maybe you should at least let them feel happy at first, because they deserve a good start to such a tough situation.
Yeah, they was going to be just as miserable as we were. Hey, we had our problems, I ain't gonna lie to you about that. Sure, we had our problems, and getting a good happy start doesn't change that. But then… getting an unhappy start sure ain't gonna help. So, what's it gonna cost me? Ten bucks towards a group gift, ah, hell, maybe I can part with a twenty. A smile. Hell, I guess I can shake their hand; maybe Mr. Smartass can tell me the faggot code to make sure they don't try to hug me or nothing.
It ain't easy, and if they're going to try, hell, I can give them that much, right? As long as there's other guys there, besides me and Mr. Smartass, I mean, so they're not thinking it's only the office fags who are supporting them. I mean, I ain't a fag, and I don't think Mr. Smartass is, though maybe he swings that way, but I mean, other guys, enough guys they know that it ain't just the fags.
Look, let me tell you something about Mr. Smartass. He ain't what you'd call a regular guy. He can't bowl to save his fucking life, but he's got a sense of humor about it, and he buys a round of beer when it's his turn, so he gets an invite if we're down a person, but he ain't one of the guys. I'll tell you one thing, though: he knows when to shut up.
You know something? I think he knows I meant "no" when I said I'd think about it, but he didn't make a big deal about me saying yes, and he made sure he told me a bunch off the regular guys were going to be there. He knew I wanted to know that.
Yeah, I call him a smartass, and he is one. But I wouldn't put a "mister" in front of it for just any asshole, you know?
There were a lot of people there, and I was glad. A lot of people means no one asks any questions.
It was a pretty good party, so I guess some of that stuff they say about gays being able to do that kind of thing is accurate. The two fags were being pretty straight, too, and that was nice. One kiss, because someone started that trick of clinking on the glasses, but they played it down after that. of course, Mr. Smartass was there to point out that it was a shame that they felt that they couldn't even kiss as a married couple. I didn't think much about that, until they were handing around the wedding pictures.
I didn't take a look at them, and just handed them over to Mr. Smartass, and he didn't seem to mind, but then he stopped, about half way through them, and slid one of them over to me. "Just look at the eyes," he said.
I figured, what the hell, I might as well humor him, so I did. That's when it hit me, hard enough to knock the wind out of me. I stared at the picture, feeling like it had been five minutes maybe, and then I looked up at the two guys who'd just gotten married.
I swear, I felt like someone had stuck of fork in my guts and was twisting it. Don't get me wrong, what ever two folks want to do in their bedroom is their own business, but let's face it, I know what a pair of fags is looking for. But, see, regardless of that, I could still see it in their eyes, the same thing I saw in the pictures.
I mean, I never saw myself in the mirror when I was looking at my wife, because I was spending too much time looking it her. So, I can't be sure what I look like. But, I know what she looks like when she's returning that look, and what she looks like when she's giving me her own. I ain't one of those poetry writing guys, so I can't tell you what love looks like, but by God, I know it when I see it, and I know it when I'm looking it, if you get me.
And fuck me if it ain't true ... those faggots were in love.
I mean, I supposed that a couple of Lesbos might fall in love, cause chicks are into that kind of lovey dovey stuff. But guys? I figured guys had to be in it for sex, and you know what kind of sex I'm talking about.
And suddenly, I understood what Mr. Smartass was talking about. If someone said me and my wife's love doesn't matter, I'd kick their ass. And if they said one of my friends' love didn't matter, I'd kick their ass. Because, you see, that's what it's about. You love someone, and you love them so much, there ain't no next step, except getting married.
It wasn't until later that I heard Mr. Smartass one day, talking to another person. He said he had this friend, and the thought of two men getting it on turned this guy's stomach, made him wanna puke, but if he saw some queer stompers marching in on a gay guy, he'd step right in. Gays might gross him out, but he'd stand up for what was right. Gay, or straight, people should be treated right.
He sounded so proud of his friend, I felt like walking right up and telling him he knew at least two, when I realized that maybe he was talking about me.
I think that the next time I meet him, I'm going to tell him that any folks who fall in love deserve a chance to get married. Even faggots.
Because, God damn it, it's true ... faggots fall in love.
It anyone notices any similarities, this is the second use of the character that I refer to as "Hypothetical Man".
You have to understand, there's this guy, Mr. Smartass, and he's the one who is to blame for some of this. Some of it, but not all of it.
See, there've been all these fags and lesbos whining about not getting any special rights. And I suppose I was complaining about it, a bit, so maybe Mr. Smartass had a right to say something. I don't know. But, what he did was ask me what I'd do if someone tried to break up my marriage with my wife.
I told him that if someone wanted to break me and my wife up, I'd kick his ass. And I would, if I could.
So he asked what I'd do if someone was trying to break up a friend's marriage, and the answer was the same, of course. That's what being friends is all about; you share your happy times, your sad times, and the ass-kickings, when you need to.
Then he asked about someone breaking up someone else's marriage, and it's like, he's making it like it's a big deal. I finally told him that someone ought to deal out the ass kickings if someone was trying to break up other people's marriages, b ut it wasn't gonna necessarily be me.
You got to understand, that's the way Mr. Smartass argues. He brings up something completely irrelevant. Then he makes like he got something on you. The thing is, breaking up marriages ain't nothing like keeping fags from marrying other fags, or keeping lesbos from marrying other lesbos.
It's not like fags and lesbos can have kids, and that's what marriage is about.
Okay, fine, so, yeah, if folks can't have kids, yeah, they can still get married, but the thing is, they could have kids. That means something. I think that's what it is that draws folks together. I think that's what makes it real, what makes it love, and what makes it all natural.
So that's where things stood for a couple a' weeks. Then it turns out that they're giving our marriage licenses in California, and Mr. Smartass has got this shit-eating grin on his face. Lemme tell you something, I'd figured him for straight at first, but now I don't know. I asked him, right out, and he said he wouldn’t tell me unless I was asking him for a date. 'Otherwise, it's none of your business", he said.
I figured he was straight, he didn't act like a fag, but now I wasn't sure.
He told me that a couple of fags in purchasing were going to go to California. He said he wanted me to come to the party. Actually, he called it a 'reception', like it was a real marriage. I mean, come on, it's probably not even legal. I told him I'd think about it, and I think he knew I meant 'no'.
Then I told my wife about it, and damn… she hit the roof.
She said that two of her aunts and uncles didn't want us married. She said they asked her to call it off maybe a dozen times. She said they also came to the wedding, and gave us the best gifts they could afford. She said she wasn't going to tell me who they were, but if I had to guess, I'd better take my pick of those who were cheering us loudest, rather than those who were just there for the free food and booze. They didn't like it, in fact, it pissed them off, but it was by-god a marriage, and it was our decision, not theirs.
She told me that if I didn't like a pair a fags getting married, fine, but I'd better treat them just like any other coworkers getting married.
I figured maybe I'd just not talk about it, and then I heard some late night TV guy talk about "sure, let homos get married; why shouldn't they be as miserable as us straights?" and I think I got her point.
It ain't easy. Being married is nice, let me tell you, but it ain't easy. And maybe you should at least let them feel happy at first, because they deserve a good start to such a tough situation.
Yeah, they was going to be just as miserable as we were. Hey, we had our problems, I ain't gonna lie to you about that. Sure, we had our problems, and getting a good happy start doesn't change that. But then… getting an unhappy start sure ain't gonna help. So, what's it gonna cost me? Ten bucks towards a group gift, ah, hell, maybe I can part with a twenty. A smile. Hell, I guess I can shake their hand; maybe Mr. Smartass can tell me the faggot code to make sure they don't try to hug me or nothing.
It ain't easy, and if they're going to try, hell, I can give them that much, right? As long as there's other guys there, besides me and Mr. Smartass, I mean, so they're not thinking it's only the office fags who are supporting them. I mean, I ain't a fag, and I don't think Mr. Smartass is, though maybe he swings that way, but I mean, other guys, enough guys they know that it ain't just the fags.
Look, let me tell you something about Mr. Smartass. He ain't what you'd call a regular guy. He can't bowl to save his fucking life, but he's got a sense of humor about it, and he buys a round of beer when it's his turn, so he gets an invite if we're down a person, but he ain't one of the guys. I'll tell you one thing, though: he knows when to shut up.
You know something? I think he knows I meant "no" when I said I'd think about it, but he didn't make a big deal about me saying yes, and he made sure he told me a bunch off the regular guys were going to be there. He knew I wanted to know that.
Yeah, I call him a smartass, and he is one. But I wouldn't put a "mister" in front of it for just any asshole, you know?
There were a lot of people there, and I was glad. A lot of people means no one asks any questions.
It was a pretty good party, so I guess some of that stuff they say about gays being able to do that kind of thing is accurate. The two fags were being pretty straight, too, and that was nice. One kiss, because someone started that trick of clinking on the glasses, but they played it down after that. of course, Mr. Smartass was there to point out that it was a shame that they felt that they couldn't even kiss as a married couple. I didn't think much about that, until they were handing around the wedding pictures.
I didn't take a look at them, and just handed them over to Mr. Smartass, and he didn't seem to mind, but then he stopped, about half way through them, and slid one of them over to me. "Just look at the eyes," he said.
I figured, what the hell, I might as well humor him, so I did. That's when it hit me, hard enough to knock the wind out of me. I stared at the picture, feeling like it had been five minutes maybe, and then I looked up at the two guys who'd just gotten married.
I swear, I felt like someone had stuck of fork in my guts and was twisting it. Don't get me wrong, what ever two folks want to do in their bedroom is their own business, but let's face it, I know what a pair of fags is looking for. But, see, regardless of that, I could still see it in their eyes, the same thing I saw in the pictures.
I mean, I never saw myself in the mirror when I was looking at my wife, because I was spending too much time looking it her. So, I can't be sure what I look like. But, I know what she looks like when she's returning that look, and what she looks like when she's giving me her own. I ain't one of those poetry writing guys, so I can't tell you what love looks like, but by God, I know it when I see it, and I know it when I'm looking it, if you get me.
And fuck me if it ain't true ... those faggots were in love.
I mean, I supposed that a couple of Lesbos might fall in love, cause chicks are into that kind of lovey dovey stuff. But guys? I figured guys had to be in it for sex, and you know what kind of sex I'm talking about.
And suddenly, I understood what Mr. Smartass was talking about. If someone said me and my wife's love doesn't matter, I'd kick their ass. And if they said one of my friends' love didn't matter, I'd kick their ass. Because, you see, that's what it's about. You love someone, and you love them so much, there ain't no next step, except getting married.
It wasn't until later that I heard Mr. Smartass one day, talking to another person. He said he had this friend, and the thought of two men getting it on turned this guy's stomach, made him wanna puke, but if he saw some queer stompers marching in on a gay guy, he'd step right in. Gays might gross him out, but he'd stand up for what was right. Gay, or straight, people should be treated right.
He sounded so proud of his friend, I felt like walking right up and telling him he knew at least two, when I realized that maybe he was talking about me.
I think that the next time I meet him, I'm going to tell him that any folks who fall in love deserve a chance to get married. Even faggots.
Because, God damn it, it's true ... faggots fall in love.
