26 days. In 26 days I marry the love of my life and perfect match. Right now I’m a bundle of giddiness, excitement, anxiety (putting on a wedding is an insane undertaking), and warm fuzzies. This experience from moment one has truly been magical. Love does that to you. It touches every aspect of your life and makes it better. Way better. The funny thing about true love is that it catches you by surprise. You’re not looking for it and then bam, slap to the face. It’s a real wakeup call. It’s like someone comes along and shakes the cobwebs from your mind and shows you what life should really be like.
Not to discount previous relationships, but this is just, different. It’s like Digiorno compared to your favorite pizza spot (you can tell I’m writing this at lunch). Both are good. Both will get you through, satisfy your need for sustenance. But only one is what you truly wanted. Only one will you rave about to all of your friends. And the funny thing is if you’d only eaten frozen pizza all your life, you’d believe that was the be all and end all of pizza. Then one night your friends take you to Antico and you think, “Okay, this is pizza! I’m not sure what that other stuff was. This is the real deal. I want to eat this for the rest of my life.” Enough with the pizza. I think I’ve made my point. I’m in love.
Here’s the crazy part, I’d written off marriage. I’m not sure I even believed in it. In my mind it added nothing to the equation; it didn’t change the commitment. I was the one spouting off rhetoric about it being an outdated practice and a broken system. Then true love happened. And suddenly it was all I could think about. I wanted this man in my life forever. I wanted others to realize how serious we are. I wanted my love to be certified! And here’s where a nagging thought entered my mind. It started out as a passing, “ugh, jeez, that really sucks” and grew into moments of tearing up and getting seriously pissed. My thought was this, my best friend can’t experience this; at least not in the way I can. And guess what, he’s there. He’s right there with me on this wonderfully amazing emotional roller coaster. He loves his boyfriend. I mean loves, like head tilts and shrugs, like aches with distance, like the completion of a puzzle. He’s in it. He’s found the one. This guy, he’s amazing. He makes my best friend so happy. He levels out his anxiety. He makes him listen to 90s rock (awesome). He is the one my best friend deserves. Too bad they live in Tennessee. Too bad when that magic moment arrives they can’t even choose to get married where they’ve built their lives. Too bad this, the most important moment of their lives, can’t be spent at home.
Imagine that, because I have, over and over again over the last few months. I’ve always been pro-equality. Love is love. Everyone deserves to feel this way. Everyone deserves to have their love recognized, accepted, validated. Because yes, their love is not minimized in their minds by this bigotry, but it deserves to be celebrated! Brett deserves to haggle with caterers and florists. He deserves to pick colors and handle seating arrangements. He deserves his moment of bliss that launches a lifetime of happiness. And he deserves to do it wherever he damn well pleases WITH a legally recognized marriage license in hand.
Brett will be there by my side in 26 days when I take my stroll down the aisle. Bradley will be there looking on as his future husband likely cries while he watches his best friend get married. I want nothing more than to blubber on his special day. It sucks that that will mean traveling to one of the 19 states that have finally come to their senses. Now that’s some serious food for thought.