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Married. Again.

I want to get married again. I want Earl and I to celebrate our 10th anniversary next year by renewing our vows and inviting our families and friends to witness the event. I want a big party. I want to wear a tux. I want to be a legally recognized couple in the Empire State. I want to file taxes together. I want to be able to walk hand and hand down the street with my husband, and yes, I used the term husband for a change, letting everyone know that “yes, I am married to this big bear of a man and I have never been so happy in my life.”

Earl and I have been watching “First Comes Love”, which I guess was originally titled “My Big Fabulous Gay Wedding”, on the new Logo channel (that’s the gay channel that’s run by the same people that run MTV). I’m really not that keen on the show. It’s about the flamboyant Scott Thompson being a couple’s “wedding fairy” where he and his group of wedding experts put on a big, lavish, outrageous wedding for a same-sex couple in love. It’s legal and all, because it takes place in Canada. You can tell by the accents, the use of metric measurements and the lack of toothless people waving signs that say “those two fags can’t get married” in the background.

Though I’ve only seen two episodes, the wedding ceremonies are way too far over the top for my tastes. Fa-fa hor d’oeurves. Art galleries. Botox. Shirtless dancing men in the aisle. “Theme weddings” based on the couple’s heritage. I think Earl looks hot in a kilt. Especially when he’s doing handstands (just kidding), but I don’t know if I can see him standing in front of a Justice of the Peace exchanging vows with me in a kilt just because he’s 1/10th Scottish. What the hell would I wear? I’m Scottish, Irish, French Canadian, Welsh, German, English and God knows what else. Do I wear a dog collar to represent the mutt that I really am? Maybe I’m too traditional, but I think tuxes are more appropriate for a wedding ceremony. But I guess to each his own.

It’s not like our wedding back in ’96 was anywhere near traditional. We wore dress clothes and looked decent enough, but we exchanged our vows in front of Earl’s step brother Rick and Rick’s girlfriend Helen on Penns Landing in Philadelphia. There was no big crowd; just the four of us, the day after Christmas, after dark, in the cold, exchanging our vows and our rings. A boatload of Marines passed by. There were cheers. We couldn’t have been happier. I wouldn’t exchange our wedding for any other type of experience. It’s just what we wanted and it still brings a lump to my throat to this day when I think about it.

With our 10 year anniversary just 18 months away, I need to start saving money now if it’s going to be a big affair, after all, I’ve mentioned how much I suck at saving money before. The problem is, I want our union to be legally recognized. I want a Justice of the Peace to conduct the ceremony. I want our partnership to be certified. Is that too much to ask? Our families have been supportive. There are those that may not completely understand our relationship, but I believe that they respect us and still love us. Why can’t our country, the country that we pay our taxes to, respect, celebrate, mourn for and would die for if necessary, show us the same respect?

It falls on deaf ears.

Regardless, I think we’ll have that big celebration next year. And as outrageous or traditional as it turns out to be, it will still be one Fabulous Gay Wedding (er, Renewing Of Our Vows).