Category Archives: wedding

Goin’ to the Chapel

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We went to a wonderful wedding on Saturday. Heterosexually speaking. Just because my queer brothers and sisters cannot join me in same sex wedded bliss does not mean I am boycotting boy-girl unions when good friends are jumping the broom, and that was just the case here.

It was a wonderful affair, you should have been there. The bride was lovely and her dress was the most beautiful one I’ve ever seen. It was held in a small Marin county town in a really swell little club, a sort of arts and crafts building surrounded by huge redwoods and charming grounds with very unstructured flower beds. Sometimes it really pays to live in northern California.
We got to hang with our good friends, including some from Arizona that we never to get to see enough (hey Brit!) The groom is a rocker drummer dude, so the music was odd, but amusing. When’s the last time you heard Rush at a reception? Huh?
All in all, a good time was had by all, hilarity ensued, etc., etc….
Fun weddings. Just another reason to struggle for marriage equality. Although that reminds me, our tax guy told me last April that I had to pay more state taxes because R Man and I are married. Bastards.

Partners in Poo

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I was going to put up a post about the importance in long time companionship of partners being willing to listen to each other’s news bulletins about their bowel movements, but I just can’t. Recent semi-frank conversations with other old couples secure in their partnerships reveal that this is truly the underlying key to a life lived together in harmony: poop chats. For those of you out there whining about being single, you might want to bear that in mind. You get hooked up and suddenly euphemistic heavy conversations seem to be part of the territory.

I just thought I’d warn you.

Wedding Report

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I know, I know, so little mrpeenee news of late. I’ve been so distracted what with the wedding, the big party to celebrate the wedding and bronchitis to make the entire thing more challenging. Also, the cat keeps puking. But be assured my darlings, my thoughts are with you always, always.

The wedding? Fabooski. We got there on time and then stood around FOREVER in the clerks office waiting our turn. We met commissioner Mary Ortez who married us and she was a sweetie. She was very firm that we needed to exchange rings as part of the ceremony, which we hadn’t planned to do, but she said it was the best part, so, being good sports, we went along with it and she was right. Not that I actually remember the ceremony, it’s all sort of a blur now, but I do remember being struck with how charming and sweet without being saccharine it was. We stood at the top of the big stairs under the rotunda, right in front of the bust of Harvey Milk (how appropriate) with our best friends beside us
and I patted R Man on his beard and then, somehow, we were married. It doesn’t feel any different, but I like it anyway.

Lunch at One Market was terrific.

We ran around like crazy mad monkeys on Friday getting ready for the party on Saturday which, by the time it started, had worn me to a frazzled mess (and I was sick) but once it got under way, I had a good time and was vastly amused by all our friends. I just wish you could have been there. We wound up having burritos for everybody who stuck it out. Mmmm, burritos.

I’ve reveled in my newlywed bliss since then by coughing vigorously (it’s become something of a hobby,) taking Vicodan, and napping. I went back tot he doctor today and he said the stuff in my lungs (I believe the technical term is “snot”) is still there, hanging around like it doesn’t have anything better to do. I’m annoyed, but I’m also through with errands, so I’m taking to my bed to recuperate. If you want me, I’ll be filed under “Mimi Violetta.”

Bridezilla, the Gay Edition

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Today’s our wedding, hoo dee hoo hoo. It’s a beautiful blue, warm day here, perfect for a trip to City Hall.

R Man and I will both be wearing suits, grey for him and black for me and I’ll have on my favorite, most beautiful tie. Very respectable, very well put together.

As for the traditional rest, here’s the rundown:
Something Old
After my mother died and I was back in Texas for the funeral aftermath (remind me to tell you all about how I missed my mother’s funeral. Fascinating story) I went straight to her jewelry box and boosted the rhinestone necklace I was so fascinated with as a little girlyboy. It’s very demure (for rhinestones;) just a single strand of stones, hardly bigger than a chocker. Since it’s the oldest wearable thing I have, I’ll wear it under my shirt and tie as a sentimental salute to my family. I’m not telling anyone else about it, just you and me, it’s our little secret

Something New
A fresh bandaid for the place where Saki the cat bit me last night.

Something Borrowed
I never can keep track of those shirt stays that keep your collar stiff. Since I’ve lost all mine, I have to borrow some from R Man.

Something Blue
My lucky underwear. Duh.

And a sixpence for her shoe.
Who the hell has a sixpence? And who wants to try and walk around all day with a coin in your shoe? I shall substitute a Vicodan for my mouth. To swallow. I still have bronchitis, although much better, and a little chemical oomph can only help.

I gotta go, I’m getting married.

Wedding Bell News

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stinkylulu reminds us that we mentioned, more than once, that we’re getting married, but then sort of drifted off topic. As many of our friends will testify, drifting off topic is rather a speciality of ours. Just wave something shiny around and, wham. Anyway, here’s the news.

We get married this Thursday in City Hall. Our dear friends Urbanstreetpitrate and Diane von Austinberg are flying in for the festivities, which will include a wedding lunch at the schmancy One Market. Another good friend knows the catering manager there and has arranged some gala surprises, yay. As long as it’s not mariachi bands, I’m delighted with it.

Diane’s annual visits are always something to look forward to and Urban has been missing far too long. Diane and I like to cook together (and how many people can you say that about?) and are the terror of thrift stores all over town. Urbanstretpirate is sweet and charming and the perfect friend to hang with. In short, the bestest wedding a poof could hope for.

Licensed

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Added to the list of sentences I never thought I would utter, but have now: “Yesterday, we went down to pick up our wedding license.” My, the world we live in.

City hall here is not particularly well air-conditioned, so it was a wee bit stuffy in the clerk’s office and the pace was leisurely, but I was happy to be there. I have to admit, R Man and I have both been rather ambivalent about this whole thing. Why are we getting married after all these years together? Turns out the basic answer is “Cause we can.”

So there we were, along with plenty other poofs aiming down the aisle. Of the dozen or so other couples we saw there, only one was apparently heterosexual. The very nice chica at the counter assured us that same sex couples were always better looking. Well, duh. I have to say I was not impressed with the boys who were wearing calla lilies as boutonnieres (calla lilies?) but still.

So our actual wedding is September 25 and it turns out the most difficult thing is finding a place for lunch afterwards. So San Francisco.

Two grooms walk into a bar….

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It may be dull reading over and over about gay marriage if you’re not here in California, but for me it’s thrilling. Something I had long grown accustomed to thinking would never happen has flipped over into reality. Plus, suddenly it’s everywhere here. On Saturday we saw two big guys in matching formal kilts walking down 18th street in the Castro; two girls giggling down Market Street carrying a big (we assumed) wedding cake in a box, our waiter at lunch today told us all about his wedding last week in City Hall. And now we’re planning ours. Woo hoo! As I told Diane von Austinburg, all I’ve gotten down so far is that we’ll have a tamales, but what else is there? Her response? Cake.

O yeah.

Wedding Belles

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The San Francisco Chronicle’s website http://www.sfgate.com is filled today with dozens and dozens of pictures of the gays getting married. It’s thrilling and touching to see them all, everybody is so happy. But in the middle of all the heart-tugging cuddliness, this is my favorite picture, it seems to truly embody real marriage. Two guys getting ready for their trip down the aisle and you just know the queen on the left is saying “NO I DON”T KNOW WHERE YOUR PHONE IS. Why do you always lose it? Did you look in your brown jacket? Maybe it’s in the kitchen. Are we going to be late AGAIN?” Ain’t love grand?

Wedding Bells.

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R Man and I have been together 27 years, 20 of them here in San Francisco. We plan on marrying this fall, in our home, surrounded by our friends. All we have to do is wring a time out of the Diane von Austinberg for when she can be here to set the date. She’ll be our flowergirl.

Neither of us is comfortable with publicly expressed emotions; we may be gay guys, but we’re guys after all. I think that may be one of the reasons why we’re doing this. We want to make a stand against all the negative training that our whole lives spent in the shadow of the straight world has taught us. I want to confront all the forces that have always said “No, you can’t” to me and retort “Yes, I will.” I want to publicly announce how important he is to me, how I love him. And I think our wedding can do that.