What Happens When You Discover That YOU’VE Had It Wrong All The Time?
I like to think that I’m “with it” (as the kids used to say) or at the very least, that all my kvetching on this blog for the past four years has kept me in touch with what’s going on in the world and my own feelings about what’s going on. And while I have gone on endlessly about gay marriage and the rights we gays lack, the truth of the matter is that growing up, the thought of getting married never crossed my consciousness. If you were gay, you didn’t get married. And if you did find someone to spend your life with, you changed the pronoun when talking about him with older relatives and people who didn’t know you. I know, I know, this seems horribly antediluvian but I admit it, that’s how I’ve lived my life. While I write endlessly about gay marriage and my rights, I never wanted to be impolite or make anyone in the general public (or certain members of my family) uncomfortable. What happens when you discover that YOU’VE had it wrong all the time? – Don’t Get Me Started!
I’ve always had a problem about what to call the man in my life. I’ve tried everything on from boyfriend to husband and everything in between and nothing feels right. When we became Domestic Partners (in accordance with the laws of our state) last year, all of the paperwork stated that my guy was now my “spouse.” And while it’s not the most romantic term in the world, for all intents and purposes that’s what he is, my spouse. It still doesn’t feel right to me. But let’s leave the semantics of what to call my spouse aside for the moment.
I was picking up a prescription for me and dropping off a prescription for my guy last week when the pharmacy tech asked me when I needed it, without thinking I said, “It’s not my prescription, it’s for my spouse. Could you have it ready for him to pick up tonight?” “Spouse” it just slipped out. And as effortless as it was to say it, the pharmacy tech just as effortlessly said, “Not a problem, he can pick it up tonight.” She didn’t seem uncomfortable, the walls didn’t start to crumble, no one jumped out from around the corner of the candy aisle with a “God Hates Fags” sign (believe me, I looked) nothing happened. Wait, something was happening, I started to feel proud. Proud? Why would I feel proud of calling someone I’ve shared my life with this many years my spouse to a total stranger? It wasn’t some big declaration to the world, it wasn’t some protest, it was just my soul slipping out, speaking for me and it felt good to get it out.
Lest you think I walk around in a worried state that people will find out that my spouse and I are together, I can assure you that we kiss and hug in airports when we are welcoming each other home, we eat off of one another’s plates in restaurants when we feel the need however we don’t make out in public because straight or gay that doesn’t appeal to me to participate in or to watch. I have been a proud gay man for many years now so why did it take so long to figure out how wrong I have been for so long? The simple answer is that I don’t know. The complicated answer is that I’m a people pleaser and I want to be liked so rather than possibly make someone else feel uncomfortable I’ll put on whatever character you want me to be to make you feel comfortable whether I know you or you’re a complete stranger.
I could be bitter that it’s taken me so long to figure out how to be okay with calling a spouse a spouse or I could choose to be glad that it didn’t take me another forty-something years to figure it out. I choose the last one! What happens when you discover that YOU’VE had it wrong all the time? – Don’t Get Me Started!
Read More Scott @ www.somelikeitscott.com
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