That headline, splashed across the cover of The Oregonian, appeared a day after Multnomah County Judge Frank Bearden put a hold on gay marriages in Portland.
Well, I'm here to tell you that it doesn't "please" all. In fact, "pleased" is about the only emotion I don't feel right now. How about something more like "freaked out," "screwed" or "loser"?
Other thoughts running through my head: "I messed up. I knew I should've married my partner, Juan, when I had the chance. I waited too long."
Now I'm going to have to wait until the state Legislature or Supreme Court makes another decision--or travel 3,000 miles to Massachusetts and lie about how I'm dying to move to Worcester. I don't think so.
I have no one to blame for my situation but myself.
Or do I?
This stop-gap measure, what nicey-nice County Commish Serena Cruz called a "time out" in the press conference following Bearden's ruling, not only allows the Legislature a chance to weigh in on the issue but sets a deadline for the decision, too.
Fact is, though, I believe Bearden's ruling is a cop-out. While it takes pressure off the queer people who have already hitched up (I'm thrilled the ruling orders the state to recognize 3,022 same-sex marriage licenses), it leaves queers who have yet to get married, or who are currently single, abandoned at the altar.
And, damn, I was just getting used to the idea of getting married, too. I know the decision not to get married--yet--was the right decision for Juan and me. Like many couples, both gay and straight, we want to actually plan a ceremony. You know, a party born out of our relationship, one that includes our families (blood and otherwise) and doesn't involve grabbing a street preacher and huddling on the edge of a sidewalk in the middle of a rainstorm.
In writing this column, I've had no problem regularly exposing my relationship for public display, yet it seems like another matter entirely for something as important as marriage to become part of a political maelstrom.
I guess I'm old-fashioned. I want to get married to my partner because I love him. Not just because a window of social opportunity opened up and, oh well, I might as well jump in along with everybody else. I respect everyone who took advantage of this golden opportunity, but on March 3 I knew I wasn't ready.
Now, like many times before in my life, I've been trying to figure out who to blame for the pain this is causing me. It'd be easy to point a finger--guess which one--at a governor who has all but turned his back on his queer constituents with his hands-off approach. Then there's the county commissioners and their secret deals. I could even blame Basic Rights Oregon for bringing the idea of queer weddings out of the closet in the first place without a strategic political plan to protect marriage rites.
But it doesn't seem quite fair to treat any of them as scapegoats. I mean, thank god BRO and the commissioners had the cajones to put their careers on the line for gay rights. Ever since this whole matter entered the public arena, the winds of change have never smelled sweeter.
And I guess, ultimately, change is what this is all about. Full disclosure: I've never liked change all that much. But watching so many of my queer friends get married, I finally got a taste of something that goes far beyond the idea that I am separate but equal. I am a human being. I am gay. I want to get married.
Will I ever get to choose the right time to throw my bouquet?
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