You know, as sugar comas go, it wasn’t intolerable.
Okay, let me clear something up: I’m not a fan of weddings. I like the theory behind them – people are in love and want to proclaim their love to the world and cash in on married couple benefits like the ‘Spouse Eats Free’ nights at the local Bob York – but weddings in and of themselves don’t do much for me.
Mine, obviously, was different. Actually, mine was a hoot when the Justice of the Peace – a 973 year old guy who drove a 27 foot long Cadillac and parked it crooked – said, “If anyone here has objections, let them speak now….” Then he leaned down to us and whispered, “Like it would do them any good.”
So anyway, to make a short story fully verbose and maybe slightly annoying, I’m not a fan of weddings. The sugary music and schmaltzy poems and mind-numbing happiness just drive me batty.
LuAnn told me recently we were going to a wedding and I said, “What the hell, only thing I had to do was clip my toenails,” so I went.
It was hot, first of all. Damn hot, like Africa hot (the hell movie is that from?). Hot and sweaty and everybody’s perfectly coiffed hair – mine included – wilted like Joe The Plumber when faced with an actual plumber’s liscensing exam. Everyone was sweaty and hauling around cameras and video cameras and trying not to get in the way but still be close enough to the ‘action’ to get some good ‘action’ shots (of a pastor talking then the happy couple talking and then everyone smiling).
The chosen colors were cool: purple and white. Always loved purple myself, it once being the color of European royalty. But there were fukin’ balloons and when all was said and done, everyone let their balloon go to, I shit you not: “Up, Up and Away In My Beautiful Balloon.”
I almost yaked. Come on, only could have been worse if they’d chosen ‘Wind Beneath my Wings,” which I actually kept expecting to hear.
The happy couple – looking studiously happy while trying to furtively wipe away a tsunami of sweat – descended the stairs behind a friend who tossed rose petals to the ground for them to walk over. Yeah, yeah, I know, the very definition of cheese and high-drama.
Then the pastor did her thing and a friend of theirs read a poem that no one could hear because we were outside at the Mississippi River, and then it was over. Everyone kissed and everyone air-kissed and everyone laughed and smiled and all were happy.
But the happiest of the day were, if not the happy couple, then certainly the owners of the bar where the reception was held.
Holy Balls, Batman! Those assorted guests could put away the booze. Look, I’ve been out for drinks with reporters, with cops, with writers and theater queers. I thought I’d seen me some drinking but none of those groups had squat on the guests at that reception. It was an impressive display, I have to tell you. It reaffirmed my faith in the righteousness of a Daniel’s shot with a Corona back, baby!
But see, here’s where the pro-gay marriage lobby fails in their mission –
Oh, didn’t I tell you? It was a gay wedding. You saw the clues, right? Mississippi River? Female pastor? Theater queers? No mention of the bride or groom? Come on, you saw this coming.
Where the pro-gay marriage lobby fails is that they’re trying to convince people they’re right on moral grounds. That it is immoral to deny people the right to sign a piece of paper with the person they love. What they should be doing is selling the economic benefit.
Based on the sheer amount of money spent this past weekend in Iowa, I believe that if every gay couple who wanted to marry did so, the economy would right itself in about 37 seconds. Wanna get gay marriage passed? Talk to the merchants who’d make the dough. ‘Cuz America may not know what morality it wants, but it sure as fuck knows what dollar it wants.
All kidding aside, it was a terrible wedding…for me. It was boring and cheesy and too cute by half. But for those two men, only one of whom I’d ever met, it was the most amazing thing. They never thought this would happen. They never thought they’d be considered equal with the rest of us.
And they cried. And the better than 100 people there – including a pile of children – cried. And the pastor choked up.
And I swear to whatever is holy in your life, it was just as bad and just as boring and just as blech as a ceremony for ‘opposite marriage’ (quoth Carrie Prejean before she was ‘persecuted’ by the ‘left-wing’ media ‘elite.’)
So my question is this: how is getting whole families together and celebrating the love between two committed people every going to destroy this country?
Obviously, I know that question won’t be answered with any seriousness. It’ll be answered with vague nods to the Bible (like in the African-American community, which goes absolutely bugfuck over gays – based on words in the Bible – but says nothing about the Bible’s words ordering slaves to obey their masters…hmmmm, hypocrisy?) and no actual argument detailing why letting people get married is wrong.
Because there is nothing wrong with it. It makes some people squeamish, it makes some people uncomfortable, but you know what? So do most things. I get uncomfortable watching bankers try and figure out how to attach new fees to accounts. I get uncomfortable watching a Super Bowl where the number one advertiser is Viagra but when a boob pops up, the country goes insane.
Okay, got off in the weeds here. All I really wanted to write about was my discovery that a gay marriage ceremony can be just as eye-rolling – to me – as an opposite marriage ceremony.
Wow, I guess gays really are people, too.
Who’d’a thunk it?