I often think about marrying you
Though marriage in itself has never been a big priority to me
About the ways it’ll be different
Non-traditional if you will
I think about who will propose
If it’ll be on one knee where we had our first date
Or if it’ll be a secret snuck between kisses behind the privacy of closed doors
I think of the way my hometown won’t make the list of locations for venues
Of how I won’t be inviting high school friends
I think of the way the first girl I ever had a crush on told me she’d add me to her prayer list when she found out
How it terrified me to be myself and sent me spiraling into denial well into adulthood,
Often denying my sexuality to others when they asked, but more importantly to myself
I think of how the people that raised me on religion won’t be in attendance to see me standing at the alter
Out of spite, disgust, and judgement
Even though they watched me grow and witnessed so much of my childhood
I think of how they’ll turn to Facebook and social media to talk about how the world has changed,
Omitting my name but making it clear that they have disdain for a marriage they disagree with,
So, my side of guests may be minuscule in comparison to yours
I think of the way I’ll go back and forth between wearing a dress and a suit,
and even though I’ll settle on wearing a suit, like I’ve always wanted, I’ll still feel subconsciously insecure about it when I watch you walk down the aisle
And I’ll think about the way adolescence made me too uncomfortable to wear a dress while I tell you how amazing you look in yours
I think of the way my father won’t be in attendance
How he’ll miss out on watching me marry the woman I’ve fallen in love with
And the way I’ll receive texts and calls for weeks afterward telling me I should be ashamed for not reaching out to him, that he cares and was always such a good dad
But I also think of the good
I think of the vows I’ll write, the promises I’ll keep
The books I’ll publish that spill droplets of ink on all of the ways you bring my soul to life
I think about the way your hand will fit in mine
The way I’ll make your coffee before mine in the mornings
About how my mother will love you and my sister-in-law will be so kind to you
I think of how I won’t be able to take my eyes off of you
Of the way I’ll noticeably stop talking whenever I stare at your eyes for too long
How we’ll pack our bags and travel to cities that never sleep together
I think about how devoted I’ll be to listening and showing patience
About building a life together
And how even though the insecurities of my youth are hard to ignore,
they’ll be worth it when I get to marry you
So our wedding won’t be traditional
And it’ll very much be the talk of my small-minded hometown for months
But I know I’d let my sins nail me to the cross if it means I get to fall in love with a woman that for whatever reason woke up and chose to fall in love with me
Excerpt from Still Here, Still Queer // ARH
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