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Celebrating the right NOT to marry
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Nobody talked about marriage. Nobody talked about politics. The amiable and humpy owner/bartender, Paul Miller, served up as many gin and tonics as I could drink. And I chatted up a friendly young fellow who was capable of veering from stories about his outrageous past to a very smart assessment of Ian McEwan's novels.
The freedom to marry is important for two major reasons: first, because so many gay men and women want desperately to marry the people they love. And second, because those of us who choose not to marry are offered a genuine choice in the matter. (My friend Michael pointed out yet another benefit of the recent ruling by the state Supreme Court: no longer will guys be able to refer to their "husbands" unless the man in question is, in fact, a husband. The title no longer properly applies to that Craigslist hookup who's been stealing your towels for the past two weeks.)
You've probably already heard a few radical faerie types voice their concerns about "assimilation," as if gay marriage will inevitably absorb every gay person into the heterosexual Borg. But the threat of assimilation isn't meaningful unless it's a choice. I would much rather be "threatened" by the prospect of becoming a Stepford husband than be legally denied that nightmarish possibility in the first place.
So even though I don't want to participate in gay marriage at this point, I'm hardly threatened by it. If anything—judging by the Tuesday-night crowd at Truck—my life as a single gay guy in a big gay town has just been valorized a little bit more. Because frankly, it's more fun to be a gadabout when you know it's not the only legal option.
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