Shake The Etch-a-Sketch: Our Ten-and-Twenty-Four Anniversary

Here we are, ten years legally married and twenty-four years together; my how the time flies … so sit back, and let me tell the tale …

We all do it to an extent; follow a line or path that we set up for ourselves. We plod a course, the straight and narrow some might say, and then walk that line toward a particular destination we've imagined we want. And every so often we twist the knobs on the Etch-a-Sketch of our lives  and a new course is charted, moving in a direction we hadn't thought of before. But it’s a slow curve most of the time, not dangerous and you can still see where you're going and can always go back if we don’t like the destination.

But what about shaking the Etch-a-Sketch? What about saying, screw that line, damn that curve. Let me hold on tight, both hands, and shake things up. See, I was an Etch-a-Sketch person, following the easy line, the one I thought I was meant to follow. I didn't stray too far off the path; who am I kidding, I never strayed off the path. But then it hit me, following the path, that straight line or that gentle curve, and where are you going? Toward another straight line, one more gentle curve? What was that all about?

My first shake was telling my parents I was gay. That was a big shake at the time, although now it seems more of a 'so what.' But I thought it was a big deal because I didn't have a real-life reference point on what it meant to be gay. What were the rules? Was there a uniform? Did I have to pay dues? What was it? See, in my family there were no 'funny uncles' or 'aunts in plaid' that I could see; that I could say, "Hey, I'm like that, so it must be okay." The only gay men I knew were the limp-wristed types on TV shows and in the movies. They wore ascots and paisley jackets, were sarcastic and alone. Terry-Thomas? No, not me. Uncle Arthur, I was not....at least I didn't think so.

So I shook the Etch-a-Sketch and came out and no one died and no one fainted and my family didn't disown me; my parents’ response was, “We love you.” Now, I lost a few friends, but maybe they weren't really friends to begin with if "I'm gay" causes them to disappear. I'm gay … Poof … you’re gone. It's like a homo David Copperfield.

I was out, and yet the Etch-a-Sketch was still giving me straight lines—I’ll save you the horror of joking about me following a 'straight' line because it’s already been done—and gentle curves. But then in 1999—so last century—I decided to give Etch-a-Sketch another nudge and I got a computer. Yes, I was late to the game, again, but I began looking around the Internet and found AOL and the series of chat rooms they had. I found one called Gay Lifestyles, and it was a fun chatty room where you could be gay, where you could step off the line a bit because no one really knew you.

I met Carlos in that chat room. The Etch-a-Sketch bumped a little and we started to online chat; another turn of the knobs and we took to the phones, and the mail. He was in Miami, I was in California, but then I took a leap and told him I wanted to meet him . He was thrilled and plans were made for me to fly to Miami in July.

JULY? IN MIAMI? Oy! What was I thinking?

I bought plane tickets and readied myself to take a sharp turn. I realize now that my life had been split into Old Bob and New Bob. See, Old Bob would have bought the tickets to Miami, told everyone he was going, and gotten on the plane, but when it made a stop in Houston, Old Bob would get off the plane, find a Motel 6, and spend the week there. Then he'd return home and tell everyone that Carlos was 'okay' and the trip was 'fine.' I'd ignore Carlos' phone calls … I almost invented ghosting y’all … and stay off the computer. I'd go back to following that line.

New Bob didn't do that. New Bob flew to Miami and met Carlos and spent a wonderful week in Florida. New Bob fell in love with Carlos and cried at the airport when he had to go home. New Bob's Etch-a-Sketch was shaking. And it was okay; twists and jogs in the path weren't anything to fear.

A month after I came home, Carlos came to California and met my family. I was so happy to have him there; so happy that my family liked him; my friends, too. But then he was gone, back to his home again and I wondered what would happen next.

It wasn't but a few weeks before I hurled the Etch-a-Sketch across the room and chose to follow the path I chose, not one that was arbitrarily set out for me. Carlos and I made plans for me to move to Miami. I sold a car, some furniture, some knickknacks; I got rid of my apartment and quit my job.

Every once in a while, you gotta Shake the Etch-a-Sketch … or toss it out altogether.

So, where does this all lead? It leads to today, twenty-four years after I stepped off another plane in Florida, though this time I was staying for good. We started our life together, all the good times and the bumpy times, and are still here.

We moved, to South Carolina of all places, but made a wonderful family out of our circle of friends who celebrated with us when we chose to get married in October of 2014. Marriage equality was happening, even in South Carolina of all places, and since we had longed talked about being married, and having our friends and family, coworkers, strangers, the check-out girl at the Food Lion, the waiter who brought me another cocktail, and the world, or at least our corner of the world, to know that we weren’t just a couple, we weren’t close friends, we weren’t partners—though those are all good things—we wanted to be Mister and Mister.

On October 17, 2014—fourteen years to the day that I moved to Miami—we were back across the country in Bellingham, Washington, to be married with my father as a witness.

And pause … y’all know that this year I lost my Dad and so this will be our first anniversary without a Dad card and phone wishing us more love and happiness. That was a Shake the Etch-a-Sketch moment I hadn’t thought about.

So, we’re back …  I seriously never thought I would see the day that I would ... that I could ... marry Carlos,  but we did just that. I remember as a kid—a not-yet-out-but-knowing-I-was-different kid—telling my mother that I would never get married, but I would have a maid to take care of my kids. I remember that story and realize now that might have been my first shot at coming out—as a six-year-old, I think—because, even then, I never thought I could get married, never thought I’d be allowed to get married and create my own version of family and home.

And so we did it, and while it has been lovely, raucous, and fun, and there have been down times and sad times and bad times, but, as Elaine Stritch would say—and god am I gay … Elaine Stritch!—we’re still here.

And looking forward, always forward, and while I didn’t say this myself—Charlotte said it in one of those Sex and the City movies … again, god I’m gay—I like to say that I am happy every single day with Carlos. Not all day, every day, because that’s life, but every single day for the last twenty-four years, for some small or large part of the day, I have realized how happy I am and how happy he makes me, and that I am still crazy in love with him.

And that’s something to celebrate!

Happy Anniversary, baby. I love you, always, ever.