It hit me. Right out of the blue. The feeling. The one after the ceremony, which lasted all of about 10 minutes (it actually seemed shorter).
With our procured witness (one of a couple of Key West gents who were – after 41 years together – also in New York City to be married), we entered the chapel. The justice started with a question: “Which one of you is Kenneth?” And off we went.
“Do you take Jason…? Breath.
“To be your lawfully wedded spouse, to…blah, blah, blah…”
I guess he was a bit excited. After she was able to finish her question, he said “I do.”
I said my “I do” at the appropriate place.
“I now pronounce you…married.” I had wondered how that would end.
And with those words, everything changed.
It was weird. I hadn’t expected those feelings.
We walked out of the lower Manhattan courthouse. He had a huge smile on his face. I’m certain I did too. We walked to the park across the street and sat on a bench in the shade. I called my son, my sister, my dad and my best friend. He called his dad and his brothers.
On the subway ride back to Brooklyn where we were staying, I looked at my new husband and examined my feelings. And they were familiar.
I had been married, long ago. To my then-best friend. And I had loved it. I tell people all the time, “If I had been straight, she and I would still be married.” I know it in my heart. But…I’m not hetero.
A wife didn’t fit me. A husband does. Regardless of what other people feel or believe.
I love being married. I love having a husband.
I’ll keep him.