December 12, 1981 dawned with a red sky on the horizon. The old saying “Red sky at morning, sailors take warning,” probably should have been heeded.
My parents stayed with me in my tiny one bedroom apartment. I slept on the couch.
I was frightened. A frightened gay male about to get married to a heterosexual woman, with her three very high-strung siblings, and her somewhat insecure father who was using this day to impress his friends.
My parents had spent the few days previously helping me to clean out the apartment and move my belongs to my new residence – the new residence with the new bride.
We spent that final day throwing stuff of my singleness away. The newspapers. The magazines. The old battered furniture that would do no one any good.
The Wedding was to begin at 2:00 p.m. in the church that I had been active in for over three years. My parents and I arrived at approximately 1:00 p.m. to get ready. My best man who had spent the previous night in the house next door, was already there dressed in his silver tuxedo. He handed me the white one. The one with the tails.
White. Pure. Virgin. Yes, from a straight perspective all those words described who I was.
I tried to hide the feelings I had. I was nearing the point of no return.
The rest of the preparations only remain in my mind as a blur. The final thing I remember of the ceremony is turning around during “Here Comes The Bride” and seeing “Lovey”, radiant and beautiful walking down the aisle on her father’s arm.
Yep, there she was, coming towards me. I was about to become her husband. Yeah, that gay guy - the frightened one in the white tuxedo with tails, standing there looking all heterosexual and proud.
About halfway down the aisle, I blanked out. My next memory is of us in the car headed toward the reception.
I assume we said our vows. I guess our musician did his part. I even suppose the minister did his thing. I do have a CD of the ceremony that I transferred from audio cassette. There we all are…reciting our vows. I heard us say that we would be together until death us do part.
Does this mean that now that we are separated that we’ve died? Sometimes it feels like something inside of me has died. I’ve certainly cried enough tears from pain. My friends say it is the grieving process.
Yes, most definitely something has died.
4 comments:
Your post reminded me of my own wedding in 1971. I had the same terrified feelings you mention, the same blank spots in my memory about the wedding and reception.
I moved out, after 31 years, with my wife's blessing. We're now closer than we could have been had we stayed married.
You do a nice job of writing and describing your feelings. Keep up the good work. You've made a painful but necessary decision. Life will get better.
What has died is the heterosexual illusion. I think that illusion had to die in order for you and your wife to live, as you both were meant to be. Bishop Gene Robinson, when he divorced, held a ceremony where the he and his wife formally released each other from their old vows to each other, and asked for the Lord’s blessing upon each others new lives. Your relationship with Lovey has changed but will continue, for both of your sakes I hope that you can release each other in love, remembering the joys and forgiving the rest.
I'm amazed that another person "blanked out" on their wedding day! Thanks David in KC for sharing this. Hearing your all's comments is so helpful to me. Thanks for sharing.
I am a 51 year old gay man married 23 years to my wife, out five years a week or so ago on Friday the 13th. By coincidence, my own marriage was on December 12th. It was 1993. I don't know where our marriage is going, whether staying together or not, but it is very difficult. I gain some insight yet some discomfort from looking through your old blog posts. I search everywhere online for an answer to how to live my/our life/lives. No answer yet but thanks for your great blog posts.
Dave
Post a Comment