Will My Marriage Last?

Coontz argues that many things we believe to be "traditional" about marriage were actually relatively recent innovations. Prior to the 1700s, marriage was mostly a business arrangement made by a couple's parents, a way of building a family's assets and increasing its labor force. The majority of newlyweds weren't "in love," and some didn't even know one another before their wedding day. But the Age of Enlightenment ushered in pesky notions about liberty and personal freedom, and "people began to adopt the radical new idea that love should be the most fundamental reason for marriage and that young people should be free to choose their marriage partners on the basis of love," Coontz says. The idea evolved over the next two centuries, and homosexuals ultimately decided they, too, should have the freedom to choose their marriage partners. Talk about radical: could it be that the Enlightenment ideals of personal freedom—the same ones that inspired my cousin in that sweltering summer of 1776—were what allowed my boyfriend to marry into the Jefferson clan last weekend?

In the weeks before my wedding, many straight friends who've been divorced asked me why I wanted to be part of a "failed" institution that had left them with alimony payments and children they see only half time. I had to do some soul-searching around that one. Like many men, I've grappled with "commitment issues," and as my exes can attest, it's taken this 44-year-old a long time to settle into a stable relationship. Was I just doing it because I could, to make a political statement? Partly, though I find it amusing to think that picking out Tiffany china with Jeff is somehow "radical." Was I tired of living with my nose pressed against the glass, looking at the lives of married couples with a mixture of disdain and envy? Yep, I'll cop to that, too, yet Jeff and I had already done a good job of achieving suburban bliss without a marriage license. Maybe I just wanted to show our family and friends that our relationship was as "real" as theirs. True, except none of them have ever treated our union as anything but.

Despite my unanswered questions about my own motives, I leapt into wedding planning with the ferocity of the fiancées on "Bridezillas." After the unfortunate incident with the homophobic restaurant patron, we settled for a banquet hall at the Los Angeles Equestrian Center in Burbank that specializes in one-stop-shop weddings. What surprised us most was just how unfazed and supportive all the vendors seemed to be about our pending nuptials, even though some of them had never worked at a gay wedding before. The bakery we chose, Hansen's Cakes in Los Angeles, was a particular surprise: they were already carrying same-sex cake toppers, with mixed-race gay and lesbian couples. This is what I love most about American capitalism: smart business people don't discriminate as long as your money's green.

The wedding itself turned out to be as integrated as the cake toppers, a mélange of traditional and contemporary, straight and gay, religious and secular. Jeff's 10-year-old nephew was the ring bearer, and our flower girl was the daughter of the woman who'd set us up on a blind date in 2001. We marched down the aisle to Frank Sinatra's "All the Way," and two friends did a reading from "Breakfast at Tiffany's," our favorite romantic film. In honor of my mother, we stomped a wine glass at the end of the ceremony, per Jewish tradition. The judge may have pronounced us lawful wedded "spouses," but we promised to love, comfort and be faithful to one another, in sickness and in health, just like heterosexual couples do.

So why, ultimately, did I go through with it? In retrospect, I can see that it was all about wanting to make a commitment—pledging my devotion to the man I love; showing our family and friends that we're all more alike than we are different; refusing to stand silently by while others try to take away my rights. Only by giving up my independence at the altar, I realized, could I truly declare my independence. For that, I think my cousin would be proud.

With Andrew Murr

© 2008