As the editor and a former staff writer at PGN, I have been writing about marriage equality for five-and-a-half years. From the nationwide rallying in the streets after the passage of Proposition 8 to President Obama’s evolution on the issue to the sweeping marriage victories in November, I have been able to look at the issue from a sea of angles.
But the true meaning of marriage equality didn’t really sink in until last weekend.
On April 14, I got engaged. The inadequacy of the phrase “gay marriage” had never been clearer — nor had the appropriateness of the phrase “marriage equality.”
Our engagement was no different than that of many heterosexual couples. She popped the question on our six-year anniversary, as we took a break from hiking atop an overlook in Fairmount Park. She had sought the perfect ring, the perfect location and had barely slept for days in advance, out of nerves. Nothing gay about that.
As soon as she asked, all I could do was say, “Oh my God” (and eventually “yes”). We both cried, gushed and she filled me in on the planning the proposal took and who of my friends and family knew. Nothing gay about that.
I immediately started thinking about who I would tell first. I called my sister and my best friend, who had both known for weeks. I wondered how best to tell my mom, she called her mom to make plans to show her the ring and we both heard her dad’s well wishes, even without the speaker phone. I regretted that my dad and her cousin, who both passed, weren’t able to share the news with us. Nothing gay about that.
When we got home, two of our best friends had set up our apartment with candles, flowers and wine to celebrate. We toasted and continued our phone calls. Neither of us one for fancy restaurants, we got Olive Garden dinner to go. Then, we made the engagement “Facebook official” and watched in joy as message after message rolled in with congratulations. Nothing gay about that.
We pledged to wait to start making wedding plans. But we couldn’t resist talking about who will be in our bridal parties. And if we wanted an indoor or outdoor venue. And where we would have the reception. And how many people we would invite — followed by each of us creating a draft of the invite list that we quickly were overwhelmed by and pushed off to another day. Nothing gay about that.
We had a whirlwind of a day that I imagine most newly engaged couples experience. While we have the added decision of where to hold our wedding — depending on how the marriage landscape may change in the coming two years — the planning process will likely mirror that of most couples: I expect lists, stress, lists and more stress, with a bit of family drama thrown in. But we’re both looking forward to every decision that awaits us and to sharing the experience with our family and friends.
At the end of the day, I got engaged to the person I love and with whom I want to spend my life. I didn’t get gay-engaged. And it feels awesome. Not gay awesome. Just plain old awesome.