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mejomonster · 9 months

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I need to read a Bad Buddy canon divergent fic where either Pran makes a move FIRST, or Pat realizes he likes Pran early.

Possible scenes of divergence:

In the scene on the rooftop where pran meets pat and says he was the one who gave him the green tea. What if in that scene Pran said "do you still want to watch the moonlight with me" and then did not follow it with "did I break your heart?". Or, if when he said that, and Pat Said "fine I'm the heartbroken one," what if Pran pushed him there. And asked why he's heartbroken, if it's because he wanted Pran... because you know that whole scene? Pran is dancing around the fact he did like Pat in high school, is kind of giddy that Pat flirted, kind of giddy Pat asked him on this date (on accident), and kind of feeling out if Pat would actually want to date him...if that was even something Pat could consider. But Pat takes Prans feeling around as "trying to put the blame of the situation on someone" so Pat let's himself be the "loser who's heartbroken." (Which is so interesting because 1. Pran literally thinks he's the heartbroken loser right now because he loves Pat and thought he lost any chance with Pat in high school so as soon as he sees Pat on this roof he hates that he got his hopes up on a potential crush, and 2. Pat will later take the conscious stance to lose to his crush Pran whenever winning would hurt Prans happiness... and even here, before Pat is even aware it's a crush he feels, he already has decided he will choose to "lose" if it will make Pran feel better. So Pat chooses to act like the "heartbroken" one in this scene, even though he's not even AWARE of why Pran feels like a loser in the moment, only aware Pran seems defensive and sort of sad so He wants Pran happy... and pran is happy when he wins their competitions).

In the scene when Pran is looking at a new apartment, Pat follows him in, and they wrestle then tickle on the bed. The audience knows, they probably would've kissed if the rental girl hadn't come in. So, how would that have changed EVERYTHING? Would they even kiss... or would Pran lay on top of Pat until they BOTH realized Pran wants to kiss, then Pran would get up, get angry and defensive, and run. And Pat would have to confront that it was VERY likely Pran had just wanted to kiss him, that it's likely pran ran away because he didn't like that he wanted to (and that entire can of worms). And Pat on a lighter immediate level would contemplate if he'd wanted Pran to kiss him... if that actually would be great. On a more concerned level, just like what actually plays out in ep 6, Pat probably wouldve gone to try to find Pran and ask why he ran. Ask why Prans scared. Why prans upset. Ask pran what he wants, why he almost kissed Pat. Pat would probably admit during such a conversation that he wishes Pran did kiss him, actually, and he doesn't know why Pran ran away when Pat isn't upset at all about the almost-kiss. And then episode 6 stuff would hit like a fucking train Way earlier in the story's plot. Because Pran wouldn't admit it's their parents feud keeping him scared of being close to Pat only to risk losing him and everything in his life here. At least he wouldn't admit it easily. And Pat would be dealing with the anvil of a realization he likes Pran, desperately loves him and does NOT want him to withdraw, did like him back in high school and was in agony when he was gone, and has been desperate to get close to him again ever since they ran into each other in college. The difference from the shows version? In the show, Pat gets all of episode 5 to deal with those realizations alone, then Pran doesn't withdrawl To An Intense level until ep 6. But if they almost kissed in episode 2 in that apartment? Oh boy. They'd be both dealing with those heavy emotions at the Same Time.

Alternatively. Pat could kiss him impulsively in that apartment bed. Thinking of it as gay chicken competition and Just, as usual, enjoying anything he does with Pran and not even realizing the depth of what that gesture Actually means to Pran right away. It would only be later, when Ink enters the plot and prans in absolute disaster mode (because pat kissed him but didn't even mean anything by it), that pat would realize oh OH pran has loved him since high school. And Oh no... pat totally wrote off prans feelings, didn't think about if pran cared, and now it makes sense why pran is avoiding him like the plague. It would play out a bit like the Canon story's eps 5 and 6, except in reverse. Pran would be withdrawn first (like ep 6) and then pat would figure out he's in love and prans been in love.

The scene where pran is designing the bus stop and pat pretends to be his boyfriend. Though honestly? Any little scene anywhere in the show, could work for this kind of exploration.

In the shows story canon, pran says in episode 5 right before the kiss "you can't keep doing this to me. We aren't a thing. We aren't even friends." And those lines speak volumes. It's an acknowledgement pat HAS been flirting. Both in high school and in college, before he realized he liked pran and after. But to pran, its been interpreted as flirting with no intent to actually be with pran. Flirting with no intent to take prans feelings seriously. And even if Pat WAS oblivious to his own crush? When pran says that, pat is fully aware he Has been flirting for years. "You can't keep doing this to me" pran says. Keep acting territorial over who's close to me (when I can't do it to you), keep flirting with me (leading me on so I keep wanting you... and Pat does purposely tempt pran to keep engaging with him, because pat loves being close to pran, even when pat isn't aware he has a crush.... on some level pat has always been aware that when he Flirts pran responds by interacting with pat more, and pat WANTS that and has wanted that for ages... maybe even since pran saved Pa as a child tbh). Pran is talking about how pat has been trying to keep pran close to him, but they cant be close. Both because pat kept picking friends and girls over pran, and because their family situation and friend situation won't LET them be close even if they tried to be. "We aren't a thing" is about romance. It's vague, it could be about a lot honestly. But to me I see it as pran being like "we aren't lovers, we aren't even fuck buddies, we aren't crushes (according to what you said to me about liking ink)" and then "we aren't even friends". To pran, it's clear pat has acted way more intimately than a friend would... for ages. And in that moment on the rooftop pat is aware he HAS been. Even when he wasn't aware he liked pran romantically, on some level he Had to pick up on pran crushing on him (after all pat doesn't go through any big exploration trying to figure out if pran likes him... it's obvious from all the times pran shut down pats flirting and fled, the way pran wrote a LOVE SONG FOR PAT, from the times pran put out feelers to see if pran would respond to the bait and Just Ask Him Out). And Pat has been indulging in prans crush by giving it attention, to keep pran close to him. And the "we aren't even friends"? Pat is so jealous of SO MUCH, but mostly that. He can't even go to prans house and eat dinner, the way friends can. He can't go up to pran and ruffle his hair and hug him and smile and joke in public with him... like prans friends (especially wai) can do at any and all times. Pat can't simply knock on his door and be let in (pran made him jump through hoops, pat has to push for every inch... which is partly why he resorts to flirting... because it Works and pran gives up an inch at a time, but pran pushes pat away constantly so pat can't just go into his room to hangout for no reason, can't give him headphones without an excuse, can't cry on his bed about a stupid fight or get drunk with him at a public bar. In fact who knows how much pat indulging his friends desire to beat up architecture kids was (at least ep 1-2) partly pat subconsciously angry those people got to cling to pran and ask for his help and hug him and laugh with him when pat can't even walk next to him in public or knock on prans family door? The line "we aren't even friends" hits pat right in the heart. The line "we aren't a thing" hits pran in the heart.

That emotionally open conversation on the roof in ep 5 before the kiss? In reality, they might have been able to have that conversation at any point. It could have happened earlier, a bit different. But the core of it: that pat has been flirting without being able to give pran the full reprocitiy he wants, and that pran keeps pushing pat away because he's scared of getting what he wants then it destroying the part of his life he enjoys. That was there since they ran into each other in college. And the outcome would ultimately always end the same: pat would decide if pran wants it? Then he CAN commit to giving full reciprocity and the consequences are worth it to pat. And pran would get what he's wanted forever, and be terrified of losing it on the terms of outside consequences instead of by his own choice, and withdraw.

It's possible the scene in the sleepover, when pat confesses to liking ink...that in that particular night, things could have gone differently. If pat had said he liked pran? Or pran had the guts then to ask "do you like me?" Instead of do you like ink? That night could have gone very interesting. Because if pran DID ask "do you like me?" Pat would've stopped his one way track mind on ink. He would've been surprised. Then he would've realized, if pran sounded serious, that pran liked him. And that would've made pat more careful in what he said next. Because pat, conscious of his crush or before that, would always rather lose then see pran hurting. He'd rather he has to move next time their parents threaten, he'd rather pran was never sent to boarding school, he'd rather confront his parents then have pran feel he has to do the confronting. And he'd rather admit he likes pran first, if pran feels safer that way (hence ep 6). So if pran DID ask if pat liked him? The entire trajectory might change. I'd be very interested to see how. I imagine later, after that night, hed confess to ink still as more of a weight off his shoulder and excuse to vent about his other crush to her (just like in canon). But what would pat say that night, if pran asked? Would pat say "who wouldn't like you?" And try to deflect his sudden realization that pran might want or need an answer to the years of flirting pats done just to keep pran from throwing him farther away. Would he say that to make it clear he thinks prans great, he just isn't ready to answer? Would pran be pissed off at that answer, that non answer, because it's another occurrence of pat flirting with him without committing to SHOWING if he really likes pran back or not. Would pran tell him to get out? Would pat deflect and ask "do you like me? I'm very likable." Would it devolve into them challenging the other to see who falls first, like in ep 6, to spare both of them the terrifying notion of having to confess their true feelings that night? Would pat be brutally honest, and answer without thinking, and just say "I've never thought about it." Which would break prans little heart, confirm that pat HAS been flirting with no intention of follow through, imply that pat never liked pran as much as pran THOUGHT he did (pran especially used to think the crush was mutual in high school). I am so curious

Anyway yeah. I'd love some canon divergent fic. If you've read any, PLEASE recommend me some! ToT

#bad buddy #patpran #meta #lb #rant #im thinking about it and. if pran at ANY POINT had kissed pat?#had dared to say: i like you. date me you prick. unless youre a coward.#pat would have IMMEDIATELY WITHOUT EVEN THINKING ABOUT IT AGREED.#he might think its a competition first or pran playing mind games and pat might be terrified #that pran doesnr actually like him and is planning to leave pat heartbroken now that pats falling for him #but like. in the moment? if pran kissed him? pat is KISSING BACK no hesitation #if pat asked him out? as in directly. yes no as only options? pat is saying yes.#because pran approaches his crush very sideways. he will throw a feeler out and see if pat takes the bait. but pran wont #actually say or do what he really feels. now... thats just his Character so pran is Not likely to kiss or make tje first move.#but im saying if he DID? things would go GREAT #i think pran mightve made the first move in high school. like #if hed been able to sing his song and see pat after? them excited they played? hed admit to pat the song is about pat.#and pat wouldve been shocked but probably flattered. and 100% wouldve #tried to see if he had a crush back and explore that with pran #(which is Exactly why prans mom sent pran away. sje probably knew if they kept hanging out theyd get together #its horrible but yeah ive met parents who did shit like that. no way she didnt rip pran away #to keep him away from pat)

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therealbeachfox · 2 months

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Twenty years ago, February 15th, 2004, I got married for the first time.

It was twenty years earlier than I ever expected to.

To celebrate/comemorate the date, I'm sitting down to write out everything I remember as I remember it. No checking all the pictures I took or all the times I've written about this before. I'm not going to turn to my husband (of twenty years, how the f'ing hell) to remember a detail for me.

This is not a 100% accurate recounting of that first wild weekend in San Francisco. But it -is- a 100% accurate recounting of how I remember it today, twenty years after the fact.

Join me below, if you would.

2004 was an election year, and much like conservatives are whipping up anti-trans hysteria and anti-trans bills and propositions to drive out the vote today, in 2004 it was all anti-gay stuff. Specifically, preventing the evil scourge of same-sex marriage from destroying everything good and decent in the world.

Enter Gavin Newstrom. At the time, he was the newly elected mayor of San Francisco. Despite living next door to the city all my life, I hadn’t even heard of the man until Valentines Day 2004 when he announced that gay marriage was legal in San Francisco and started marrying people at city hall.

It was a political stunt. It was very obviously a political stunt. That shit was illegal, after all. But it was a very sweet political stunt. I still remember the front page photo of two ancient women hugging each other forehead to forehead and crying happy tears.

But it was only going to last for as long as it took for the California legal system to come in and make them knock it off.

The next day, we’re on the phone with an acquaintance, and she casually mentions that she’s surprised the two of us aren’t up at San Francisco getting married with everyone else.

“Everyone else?” Goes I, “I thought they would’ve shut that down already?”

“Oh no!” goes she, “The courts aren’t open until Tuesday. Presidents Day on Monday and all. They’re doing them all weekend long!”

We didn’t know because social media wasn’t a thing yet. I only knew as much about it as I’d read on CNN, and most of the blogs I was following were more focused on what bullshit President George W Bush was up to that day.

"Well shit", me and my man go, "do you wanna?" I mean, it’s a political stunt, it wont really mean anything, but we’re not going to get another chance like this for at least 20 years. Why not?

The next day, Sunday, we get up early. We drive north to the southern-most BART station. We load onto Bay Area Rapid Transit, and rattle back and forth all the way to the San Francisco City Hall stop.

We had slightly miscalculated.

Apparently, demand for marriages was far outstripping the staff they had on hand to process them. Who knew. Everyone who’d gotten turned away Saturday had been given tickets with times to show up Sunday to get their marriages done. My babe and I, we could either wait to see if there was a space that opened up, or come back the next day, Monday.

“Isn’t City Hall closed on Monday?” I asked. “It’s a holiday”

“Oh sure,” they reply, “but people are allowed to volunteer their time to come in and work on stuff anyways. And we have a lot of people who want to volunteer their time to have the marriage licensing offices open tomorrow.”

“Oh cool,” we go, “Backup.”

“Make sure you’re here if you do,” they say, “because the California Supreme Court is back in session Tuesday, and will be reviewing the motion that got filed to shut us down.”

And all this shit is super not-legal, so they’ll totally be shutting us down goes unsaid.

00000

We don’t get in Saturday. We wind up hanging out most of the day, though.

It’s… incredible. I can say, without hyperbole, that I have never experienced so much concentrated joy and happiness and celebration of others’ joy and happiness in all my life before or since. My face literally ached from grinning. Every other minute, a new couple was coming out of City Hall, waving their paperwork to the crowd and cheering and leaping and skipping. Two glorious Latina women in full Mariachi band outfits came out, one in the arms of another. A pair of Jewish boys with their families and Rabbi. One couple managed to get a Just Married convertible arranged complete with tin-cans tied to the bumper to drive off in. More than once I was giving some rice to throw at whoever was coming out next.

At some point in the mid-afternoon, there was a sudden wave of extra cheering from the several hundred of us gathered at the steps, even though no one was coming out. There was a group going up the steps to head inside, with some generic black-haired shiny guy at the front. My not-yet-husband nudged me, “That’s Newsom.” He said, because he knew I was hopeless about matching names and people.

Ooooooh, I go. That explains it. Then I joined in the cheers. He waved and ducked inside.

So dusk is starting to fall. It’s February, so it’s only six or so, but it’s getting dark.

“Should we just try getting in line for tomorrow -now-?” we ask.

“Yeah, I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible.” One of the volunteers tells us. “We’re not allowed to have people hang out overnight like this unless there are facilities for them and security. We’d need Porta-Poties for a thousand people and police patrols and the whole lot, and no one had time to get all that organized. Your best bet is to get home, sleep, and then catch the first BART train up at 5am and keep your fingers crossed.

Monday is the last day to do this, after all.

00000

So we go home. We crash out early. We wake up at 4:00. We drive an hour to hit the BART station. We get the first train up. We arrive at City Hall at 6:30AM.

The line stretches around the entirety of San Francisco City Hall. You could toss a can of Coke from the end of the line to the people who’re up to be first through the doors and not have to worry about cracking it open after.

“Uh.” We go. “What the fuck is -this-?”

So.

Remember why they weren’t going to be able to have people hang out overnight?

Turns out, enough SF cops were willing to volunteer unpaid time to do patrols to cover security. And some anonymous person delivered over a dozen Porta-Poties that’d gotten dropped off around 8 the night before.

It’s 6:30 am, there are almost a thousand people in front of us in line to get this literal once in a lifetime marriage, the last chance we expect to have for at least 15 more years (it was 2004, gay rights were getting shoved back on every front. It was not looking good. We were just happy we lived in California were we at least weren’t likely to loose job protections any time soon.).

Then it starts to rain.

We had not dressed for rain.

00000

Here is how the next six hours go.

We’re in line. Once the doors open at 7am, it will creep forward at a slow crawl. It’s around 7 when someone shows up with garbage bags for everyone. Cut holes for the head and arms and you’ve got a makeshift raincoat! So you’ve got hundreds of gays and lesbians decked out in the nicest shit they could get on short notice wearing trashbags over it.

Everyone is so happy.

Everyone is so nervous/scared/frantic that we wont be able to get through the doors before they close for the day.

People online start making delivery orders.

Coffee and bagels are ordered in bulk and delivered to City Hall for whoever needs it. We get pizza. We get roses. Random people come by who just want to give hugs to people in line because they’re just so happy for us. The tour busses make detours to go past the lines. Chinese tourists lean out with their cameras and shout GOOD LUCK while car horns honk.

A single sad man holding a Bible tries to talk people out of doing this, tells us all we’re sinning and to please don’t. He gives up after an hour. A nun replaces him with a small sign about how this is against God’s will. She leaves after it disintegrates in the rain.

The day before, when it was sunny, there had been a lot of protestors. Including a large Muslim group with their signs about how “Not even DOGS do such things!” Which… Yes they do.

A lot of snide words are said (by me) about how the fact that we’re willing to come out in the rain to do this while they’re not willing to come out in the rain to protest it proves who actually gives an actual shit about the topic.

Time passes. I measure it based on which side of City Hall we’re on. The doors face East. We start on Northside. Coffee and trashbags are delivered when we’re on the North Side. Pizza first starts showing up when we’re on Westside, which is also where I see Bible Man and Nun. Roses are delivered on Southside. And so forth.

00000

We have Line Neighbors.

Ahead of us are a gay couple a decade or two older than us. They’ve been together for eight years. The older one is a school teacher. He has his coat collar up and turns away from any news cameras that come near while we reposition ourselves between the lenses and him. He’s worried about the parents of one of his students seeing him on the news and getting him fired. The younger one will step away to get interviewed on his own later on. They drove down for the weekend once they heard what was going on. They’d started around the same time we did, coming from the Northeast, and are parked in a nearby garage.

The most perky energetic joyful woman I’ve ever met shows up right after we turned the corner to Southside to tackle the younger of the two into a hug. She’s their local friend who’d just gotten their message about what they’re doing and she will NOT be missing this. She is -so- happy for them. Her friends cry on her shoulders at her unconditional joy.

Behind us are a lesbian couple who’d been up in San Francisco to celebrate their 12th anniversary together. “We met here Valentines Day weekend! We live down in San Diego, now, but we like to come up for the weekend because it’s our first love city.”

“Then they announced -this-,” the other one says, “and we can’t leave until we get married. I called work Sunday and told them I calling in sick until Wednesday.”

“I told them why,” her partner says, “I don’t care if they want to give me trouble for it. This is worth it. Fuck them.”

My husband-to-be and I look at each other. We’ve been together for not even two years at this point. Less than two years. Is it right for us to be here? We’re potentially taking a spot from another couple that’d been together longer, who needed it more, who deserved it more.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Says the 40-something gay couple in front of us.

“This is as much for you as it is for us!” says the lesbian couple who’ve been together for over a decade behind us.

“You kids are too cute together,” says the gay couple’s friend. “you -have- to. Someday -you’re- going to be the old gay couple that’s been together for years and years, and you deserve to have been married by then.”

We stay in line.

It’s while we’re on the Southside of City Hall, just about to turn the corner to Eastside at long last that we pick up our own companions. A white woman who reminds me an awful lot of my aunt with a four year old black boy riding on her shoulders. “Can we say we’re with you? His uncles are already inside and they’re not letting anyone in who isn’t with a couple right there.” “Of course!” we say.

The kid is so very confused about what all the big deal is, but there’s free pizza and the busses keep driving by and honking, so he’s having a great time.

We pass by a statue of Lincoln with ‘Marriage for All!’ and "Gay Rights are Human Rights!" flags tucked in the crooks of his arms and hanging off his hat.

It’s about noon, noon-thirty when we finally make it through the doors and out of the rain.

They’ve promised that anyone who’s inside when the doors shut will get married. We made it. We’re safe.

We still have a -long- way to go.

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They’re trying to fit as many people into City Hall as possible. Partially to get people out of the rain, mostly to get as many people indoors as possible. The line now stretches down into the basement and up side stairs and through hallways I’m not entirely sure the public should ever be given access to. We crawl along slowly but surely.

It’s after we’ve gone through the low-ceiling basement hallways past offices and storage and back up another set of staircases and are going through a back hallway of low-ranked functionary offices that someone comes along handing out the paperwork. “It’s an hour or so until you hit the office, but take the time to fill these out so you don’t have to do it there!”

We spend our time filling out the paperwork against walls, against backs, on stone floors, on books.

We enter one of the public areas, filled with displays and photos of City Hall Demonstrations of years past.

I take pictures of the big black and white photo of the Abraham Lincoln statue holding banners and signs against segregation and for civil rights.

The four year old boy we helped get inside runs past us around this time, chased by a blond haired girl about his own age, both perused by an exhausted looking teenager helplessly begging them to stop running.

Everyone is wet and exhausted and vibrating with anticipation and the building-wide aura of happiness that infuses everything.

The line goes into the marriage office. A dozen people are at the desk, shoulder to shoulder, far more than it was built to have working it at once.

A Sister of Perpetual Indulgence is directing people to city officials the moment they open up. She’s done up in her nun getup with all her makeup on and her beard is fluffed and be-glittered and on point. “Oh, I was here yesterday getting married myself, but today I’m acting as your guide. Number 4 sweeties, and -Congradulatiooooons!-“

The guy behind the counter has been there since six. It’s now 1:30. He’s still giddy with joy. He counts our money. He takes our paperwork, reviews it, stamps it, sends off the parts he needs to, and hands the rest back to us. “Alright, go to the Rotunda, they’ll direct you to someone who’ll do the ceremony. Then, if you want the certificate, they’ll direct you to -that- line.” “Can’t you just mail it to us?” “Normally, yeah, but the moment the courts shut us down, we’re not going to be allowed to.”

We take our paperwork and join the line to the Rotunda.

If you’ve seen James Bond: A View to a Kill, you’ve seen the San Francisco City Hall Rotunda. There are literally a dozen spots set up along the balconies that overlook the open area where marriage officials and witnesses are gathered and are just processing people through as fast as they can.

That’s for the people who didn’t bring their own wedding officials.

There’s a Catholic-adjacent couple there who seem to have brought their entire families -and- the priest on the main steps. They’re doing the whole damn thing. There’s at least one more Rabbi at work, I can’t remember what else. Just that there was a -lot-.

We get directed to the second story, northside. The San Francisco City Treasurer is one of our two witnesses. Our marriage officient is some other elected official I cannot remember for the life of me (and I'm only writing down what I can actively remember, so I can't turn to my husband next to me and ask, but he'll have remembered because that's what he does.)

I have a wilting lily flower tucked into my shirt pocket. My pants have water stains up to the knees. My hair is still wet from the rain, I am blubbering, and I can’t get the ring on my husband’s finger. The picture is a treat, I tell you.

There really isn’t a word for the mix of emotions I had at that time. Complete disbelief that this was reality and was happening. Relief that we’d made it. Awe at how many dozens of people had personally cheered for us along the way and the hundreds to thousands who’d cheered for us generally.

Then we're married.

Then we get in line to get our license.

It’s another hour. This time, the line goes through the higher stories. Then snakes around and goes past the doorway to the mayor’s office.

Mayor Newsom is not in today. And will be having trouble getting into his office on Tuesday because of the absolute barricade of letters and flowers and folded up notes and stuffed animals and City Hall maps with black marked “THANK YOU!”s that have been piled up against it.

We make it to the marriage records office.

I take a picture of my now husband standing in front of a case of the marriage records for 1902-1912. Numerous kids are curled up in corners sleeping. My own memory is spotty. I just know we got the papers, and then we’re done with lines. We get out, we head to the front entrance, and we walk out onto the City Hall steps.

It's almost 3PM.

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There are cheers, there’s rice thrown at us, there are hundreds of people celebrating us with unconditional love and joy and I had never before felt the goodness that exists in humanity to such an extent. It’s no longer raining, just a light sprinkle, but there are still no protestors. There’s barely even any news vans.

We make our way through the gauntlet, we get hands shaked, people with signs reading ”Congratulations!” jump up and down for us. We hit the sidewalks, and we begin to limp our way back to the BART station.

I’m at the BART station, we’re waiting for our train back south, and I’m sitting on the ground leaning against a pillar and in danger of falling asleep when a nondescript young man stops in front of me and shuffles his feet nervously. “Hey. I just- I saw you guys, down at City Hall, and I just… I’m so happy for you. I’m so proud of what you could do. I’m- I’m just really glad, glad you could get to do this.”

He shakes my hand, clasps it with both of his and shakes it. I thank him and he smiles and then hurries away as fast as he can without running.

Our train arrives and the trip south passes in a semilucid blur.

We get back to our car and climb in.

It’s 4:30 and we are starving.

There’s a Carls Jr near the station that we stop off at and have our first official meal as a married couple. We sit by the window and watch people walking past and pick out others who are returning from San Francisco. We're all easy to pick out, what with the combination of giddiness and water damage.

We get home about 6-7. We take the dog out for a good long walk after being left alone for two days in a row. We shower. We bundle ourselves up. We bury ourselves in blankets and curl up and just sort of sit adrift in the surrealness of what we’d just done.

We wake up the next day, Tuesday, to read that the California State Supreme Court has rejected the petition to shut down the San Francisco weddings because the paperwork had a misplaced comma that made the meaning of one phrase unclear.

The State Supreme Court would proceed to play similar bureaucratic tricks to drag the process out for nearly a full month before they have nothing left and finally shut down Mayor Newsom’s marriages.

My parents had been out of state at the time at a convention. They were flying into SFO about the same moment we were walking out of City Hall. I apologized to them later for not waiting and my mom all but shook me by the shoulders. “No! No one knew that they’d go on for so long! You did what you needed to do! I’ll just be there for the next one!”

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It was just a piece of paper. Legally, it didn’t even hold any weight thirty days later. My philosophy at the time was “marriage really isn’t that important, aside from the legal benefits. It’s just confirming what you already have.”

But maybe it’s just societal weight, or ingrained culture, or something, but it was different after. The way I described it at the time, and I’ve never really come up with a better metaphor is, “It’s like we were both holding onto each other in the middle of the ocean in the middle of a storm. We were keeping each other above water, we were each other’s support. But then we got this piece of paper. And it was like the ground rose up to meet our feet. We were still in an ocean, still in the middle of a storm, but there was a solid foundation beneath our feet. We still supported each other, but there was this other thing that was also keeping our heads above the water.

It was different. It was better. It made things more solid and real.

I am forever grateful for all the forces and all the people who came together to make it possible. It’s been twenty years and we’re still together and still married.

We did a domestic partnership a year later to get the legal paperwork. We’d done a private ceremony with proper rings (not just ones grabbed out of the husband’s collection hours before) before then. And in 2008, we did a legal marriage again.

Rushed. In a hurry. Because there was Proposition 13 to be voted on which would make them all illegal again if it passed.

It did, but we were already married at that point, and they couldn’t negate it that time.

Another few years after that, the Supreme Court finally threw up their hands and said "Fine! It's been legal in places and nothing's caught on fire or been devoured by locusts. It's legal everywhere. Shut up about it!"

And that was that.

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When I was in highschool, in the late 90s, I didn’t expect to see legal gay marriage until I was in my 50s. I just couldn’t see how the American public as it was would ever be okay with it.

I never expected to be getting married within five years. I never expected it to be legal nationwide before I’d barely started by 30s. I never thought I’d be in my 40s and it’d be such a non-issue that the conservative rabble rousers would’ve had to move onto other wedge issues altogether.

I never thought that I could introduce another man as my husband and absolutely no one involved would so much as blink.

I never thought I’d live in this world.

And it’s twenty years later today. I wonder how our line buddies are doing. Those babies who were running around the wide open rooms playing tag will have graduated college by now. The kids whose parents the one line-buddy was worried would see him are probably married too now. Some of them to others of the same gender.

I don’t have some greater message to make with all this. Other then, culture can shift suddenly in ways you can’t predict. For good or ill. Mainly this is just me remembering the craziest fucking 36 hours of my life twenty years after the fact and sharing them with all of you.

The future we’re resigned to doesn’t have to be the one we live in. Society can shift faster than you think. The unimaginable of twenty years ago is the baseline reality of today.

And always remember that the people who want to get married will show up by the thousands in rain that none of those who’re against it will brave.

#gay marriage #gay rights #gay history #gay

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