Shake The Etch-a-Sketch: Our Eleven-and-Twenty-Five Anniversary

Here we are, eleven years legally married and twenty-five 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 we can still see where we'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 then 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-five 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 we are still here.

After six years together 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 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, 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 last year and we celebrated our first anniversary without a Dad card and phone call wishing us more love and happiness. That was a Shake the Etch-a-Sketch moment I hadn’t thought about. I will be thinking of my Dad today, and my mother who loved Carlos the instant she knew I loved him.

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-five 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.

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.

Shake The Etch-a-Sketch: Our Nine-and-Twenty-Three Anniversary

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

We all do it to an extent; we follow that line 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 got 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 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 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-two years after I stepped off another plane in Florida, though this time 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. 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-two 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.

Shake The Etch-a-Sketch: Our Eight-and-Twenty-Two Anniversary

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

We all do it to an extent; we follow that line 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 got 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 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 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-two years after I stepped off another plane in Florida, though this time 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. 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-two 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.

Shake The Etch-a-Sketch

Our Seven-and-Twenty-One Anniversary

Our Seven-and-Twenty-one Anniversary ... Set To Music

I say ‘Seven Twenty-one’ because it’s been six years legally wed and twenty-one years, um, illegally married? 

And that’s quite a milestone for someone who never thought this would happen to him. But I was fine with that; I had a nice life, good friends, I dated, I had a home I loved, a job I loved, but that all changed when I got a computer and went into one of those old AOL—show of hands, who remembers AOL—chatrooms and suddenly there was someone talking to me.

It was not the way I’d expected it to go, and I was certain it would amount to nothing, but what are a few private messages and some emails? Right? What could go wrong, or right. So, there were phone and actual handwritten letters and cards, and pictures exchanged and life-stories told. He wanted to meet, but he lived in Miami and I lived in California, and couldn’t be much further apart; so, I flew to Miami but …

Quick aside: I used to be the kind of person that didn’t bold chances like flying 3,000 miles to meet a perfect …and oy, did he sound perfect … stranger in a city I’d never been to before, and, as the day approached for my flight, I actually created a story in my head that I would take the flight, but get off the plane when we had a stopover on Houston., spend the week in some cheeseball hotel in Houston, and then fly back home and tell everyone that Carlos was nice but he wasn’t the one for me; and then I would ignore him online and by phone—did I invent “ghosting”—but I decided to, as I told in another post, Shake the Etch-a-Sketch and go.

I stayed on the plane and in Ft. Lauderdale, there he was, in a  freaking bowtie no less, with a bouquet of roses. He looked exactly like his pictures, but much more handsome and adorable. We spent eleven days together … in Miami …in July! We went to Key West and watched the sunset and … yeah … and we went to South Beach and swam in the ocean and … yeah … we stayed at his house and I met his Aunt Gloria and … yeah, only a lot quieter because she’s a light sleeper. 

Then it was over, and I was flying home and what in the hell was this? Was it a 3,000-mile-long distance relationship? A 3,000-mile-long distance booty call?

It was more, and we both knew it because the next month Carlos was on the West Coast, meeting my friends and my parents and … yeah … in San Francisco and Lake Tahoe and … yeah … in my parents’ house though we were much quieter because they were right downstairs! 

Then that was over; what next? We called and emailed still; he spoke with my parents and friends and I spoke with his, until it became clear that I would move to Miami. I had a job that would transfer well to Florida and, well, since that leap to Florida to meet him turned out so well, how hard would a leap to Florida to live with him be?

So, where does this all lead? It leads to today, twenty-one years after I stepped off another plane in Florida, though this time I wouldn't be staying a week or so. Twenty-one years ago today Carlos and I started our life together and there was no looking back; only forward.

Fast forward to 2014 and the reality that marriage equality was happening, and we had longed talked about being married; we wanted that; we wanted the world, our friends and family, coworkers, strangers, the check-out girl at the Food Lion, the waiter who brought me another cocktail, 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 everyone to know that we are 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. 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 it’s been seven-and-twenty-one years. 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. Oh, not all day, every day, because that’s life, but every single day for the last twenty-one 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!

It's Our Six-and-Twenty Anniversary

I say ‘Six Twenty’ because it’s been six years legally wed and twenty years, um, illegally married? 

And it’s been a ride, one I wasn’t certain would ever happen to me, and I was fine with that; and then I got a computer and went online and into a chatroom and suddenly there was someone talking to me.

It was odd; it was not the way I’d expected it to go, and I was certain it would amount to nothing, but what are a few private messages and some emails? Right? What could possibly go wrong, or right. He wanted to meet me; but he lived in Miami and I lived in California. We couldn’t be much further apart unless I was in Hawaii. And so, I flew to Miami but …

Quick aside: I used to be the kind of person that would not take any really bold chances, such as flying across the country to meet a perfect …and oy, did he sound perfect … stranger in a city I’d never been to before, and, as the day approached for my flight, I actually created a story in my head that I would take the flight, but get off the plane when we had a stopover on Houston., spend the week in some cheeseball hotel in Houston, and then fly back home and tell everyone that Carlos was nice but he wasn’t the one for me; and then I would ignore him online and by phone; I would be inventing ‘ghosting’ way back when. But …

Aside over: I stayed on the plane and in Ft. Lauderdale, there he was, in a  freaking bowtie no less, with a bouquet of roses. He looked exactly like his pictures, but much more handsome and adorable.

We spent eleven days together; we went to Key West and watched the sunset and …yeah … and we went to South Beach and swam in the ocean and … yeah … we stayed at his house and I met his Aunt Gloria and … yeah, only a lot quiet because she’s a light sleeper. And then it was over, and I was flying home and what in the hell was this? Was it a 3,000-mile-long distance relationship? A 3,000-mile-long distance booty call?

It was love; and the next month Carlos was on the West Coast, meeting my friends and my parents and … yeah … in San Francisco and Lake Tahoe and … yeah … in my parents’ house though we were much quitter because they were right downstairs! And then that was over; what next? We called and emailed still; he spoke with my parents and friends and I spoke with his family until it became clear that I would move to Miami. I had a job that would transfer well to Florida and, well, there are times in life where you just have to, as I aid in a much earlier blog post called Shake the Etch-A-Sketch. That was what I had done that day during the stopover in  Houston; I shook the Etch-A-Sketch and everything changed.

So, where does this all lead? It leads to today, twenty years after I stepped off another plane in Florida, though this time I wouldn't be staying a week or so. Twenty years ago today Carlos and I started our life together and there was no looking back; only forward.

Fast forward to marriage equality and the reality that it was about to spread nationwide. We wanted that; we wanted the world, our friends and family, coworkers, strangers, the check-out girl at the Food Lion, the waiter who brought me another cocktail, 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 everyone to know that we are Mister and Mister.

In October 2014 we flew to Bellingham, Washington, to be married with my father as a witness. I seriously never thought I would see the day that I would ... that I could ... marry Carlos,  but we did just that. I only wish my mother and sister could have been there in more than just spirit because, as much as they love me, they love Carlos as much ... maybe more.

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. How things change; as I remember that story now, realizing it may 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.We chose to get married on the same day I moved to Miami, October 17, because, and he’ll hate me for saying it and then he’ll quickly forget I said it at all, Carlos is bad with dates; I figured the last thing he needed was another ‘us’ date to recall.

And so we did it, and it’s been six-and-twenty years. And while it has been lovely and 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. Oh, not all day, every day, because that’s life, but every single day for the last twenty 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’s something to celebrate!

I have often said that, for me, Carlos is home, and when I hear this song, it reminds me of that ...

 

PS Also celebrating anniversaries today are Anne Marie of From My Brain to My Mouth and Todd of ArTeeJee, as well as Travel Penguin and his Sweet Bear!

Stop in and wish them all Happy Happy!

Bobservation ...Happy Five Nineteen!

I say ‘Five Nineteen’ because it’s five years legally wed and nineteen years, um, illegally married? 

And it’s been a ride, one I wasn’t certain would ever happen to me, and I was fine with that; and then I got a computer and went online and into a chatroom and suddenly there was someone talking to me.

It was odd; it was not the way I’d expected it to go, and I was certain it would amount to nothing, but what are a few private messages and some emails? Right? What could possibly go wrong, or so right. He wanted to meet me; but he lived in Miami and I lived in California. We couldn’t be much further apart unless I was in Hawaii. And so, I flew to Miami but …

Quick aside: I used to be the kind of person that would not take any really bold chances, such as flying across the country to meet a perfect …and oy, did he sound perfect … stranger in a city I’d never been to. As the day approached for my flight, I actually created a story in my head that I would take the flight, but get off the plane when we had a stopover on Houston., spend the week in some cheeseball hotel in Houston, and then fly back home and tell everyone that Carlos was nice but he wasn’t the one for me; and then I would ignore him online and by phone; I would be inventing ‘ghosting’ way back when. But …

Aside over: I stayed on the plane and in Ft. Lauderdale, there he was, in a  freaking bowtie no less, with a bouquet of roses. He looked exactly like his pictures, but much more handsome and adorable.

We spent eleven days together; we went to Key West and watched the sunset and …yeah … and we went to South Beach and swam in the ocean and … yeah … we stayed at his house and I met his Aunt Gloria and … yeah, only a lot quiet because she’s a light sleeper.

And then it was over, and I was flying home and what in the hell was this? Was it a 3,000-mile-long distance relationship? A 3,000-mile-long distance booty call?

It was love; and the next month Carlos was on the West Coast, meeting my friends and my parents and … yeah …in San Francisco and Lake Tahoe and … yeah …in my parents house though we were much quitter because they were right downstairs!

And then that was over; what next? We called and emailed still; he spoke with my parents and friends and I spoke with his family until it became clear that I would move to Miami. I had a job that would transfer well to Florida and, well, there are times in life where you just have to, as I like to say, Shake the Etch-A-Sketch. That was what I had done that day I  Houston; I shook the Etch-A-Sketch and everything changed.

So, where does this all lead? It leads to today, nineteen years after I stepped off another plane in Florida, though this time I wouldn't be staying a week or so. Nineteen years ago today Carlos and I started our life together and there was no looking back; only forward.

Fats forward to marriage effing equality and the notion that it was about to spread nationwide. And we wanted that; we wanted the world, our friends and family, coworkers, strangers, the check-out girl at the food Lion, the waiter who brought me another cocktail, to know that we weren’t just a couple, we weren’t close friends, we weren’t partners—though those are all good thing—we wanted to be Mister and Mister.

And in 2014 so we flew, again, across the country, to Bellingham, Washington, to be married with my father as a witness. I seriously never thought I would see the day that I would ... that I could ... marry Carlos,  but we did just that. I only wish my mother and sister could have been there in more than just spirit because, as much as they love me, they love Carlos as much ... maybe more.

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. How things change; as I remember that story now, realizing it may have been my first shot at coming out— s 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.

We chose to get married on the same day I moved to Miami, October 17, because, and he’ll hate me for saying it and then he’ll quickly forget I said it at all, Carlos is bad with dates; I figured the last thing he needed was another “us” date to recall.

And so we did it, and it’s been five years and nineteen years. And while it has been lovely and 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 fabulous, 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. Oh, not all day, every day, because that’s life, but every single day for the last nineteen 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’s something to celebrate!

PS Also celebrating anniversaries today are Anne Marie of From My Brain to My Mouth and Todd of ArTeeJee, as well as Travel Penguin and his Sweet Bear!

Stop in and wish them all Happy Happy!

Happy Four Eighteen Anniversary!

I say ‘Four Eighteen’ because it’s four years legally wed and eighteen years, um illegally married? But I digress … here’s how this happened …

I was late to the Internet party. I didn't get a computer until the mid-90s and didn't get online until a couple of years after that. But, as I have learned in my life, all things happen for a reason. I got on AOL—yes, that old thang—and learned of something called a "chat room" where you can talk to people from all over the world. Huh? What? Huh? I found a Chat Room called Gay Lifestyles and figured I'd go in.

I was the quiet one in the corner until I learned to speak up, or is it ‘type’ up? But I liked the chat rooms for the fun and jokes, not for the hook-ups—there were other rooms for that. I was single and that was okay. I'd had a couple of mini-relationships that didn't pan out and figured maybe I'd be the single guy, and, again, that was okay. I liked my life, my job, my house, my friends. What more did I need?

Then, in April of 2000, while in a chatroom, someone asked, "Where is everybody from?" I answered "Cali here" because I'd seen other people call California by that name. A few minutes later I got an Instant Message from a ‘Carlos’ who asked about Cali; but there was a mix-up. He was talking Cali, Colombia, and I was talking Cali … fornia. It could have ended there but we decided to exchange emails and chat some more.

Carlos then suggested we talk by phone. I was already attracted to him just by what he wrote and the way he thought about things, though, being the shy one, I was a bit apprehensive; still, I said ‘Okay.’

On the day of the call I raced home from work so I could be ready; there’s a three-hour time difference between Miami and Sacramento, so it was getting late for him, when my phone rang. I remember hearing his voice that first time and loving that accent. I remember what we said, and how we said it, and how we wanted to talk more and share pictures and find out all we could about each other. I remember how he laughed that first time.

We talked every day after that; he’d called in the late morning from his job as I was getting dressed in the early morning to go to mine; I’d call in the early evening to talk to him before he went to sleep. We emailed and messaged and sent packages and pictures and songs; it was a long-distance romance and I wanted to decrease that space between us.

So, in July 2000 I flew to Miami. I know! Miami in July! What was I thinking? I was thinking that this man was something special and I wanted to see him in-person and to know what this all meant. I wanted to hear that accent in person. I wanted to know all about him. I was thinking he was 'the one.'

He picked me up at the Ft Lauderdale airport, wearing a bow-tie and carrying a bouquet of roses; he looked exactly like his pictures, though much cuter. We ate lunch and walked along the beach; we drove to South Beach to stay in a hotel because his aunt was staying at his house and we wanted privacy.

We spent a weekend in Key West and Carlos wore a sarong as we walked through town to see the sunset. I heard him play his trumpet with a volunteer orchestra he belonged to, and I met his Aunt Gloria—who became my tour-guide and friend, and, even before we legally tied the knot, my Tia Gloria; I met Dengoso, the poodle; Thomas, Scruffy, Sweety, Lady, Voncie, Spunky and Squeaky, the cats. I wanted this … this man … this life … this place.

That vacation flew by and we were both in tears not knowing what was next. Moving? Staying long-distance? What was next turned out to be a visit from Carlos to California, and a ‘Meet The Family’ dinner. Of course, my family loved him. My Mom loved him because he loved me; my sister loved him because he's a nice guy; my brother loved him for that same reason. My Dad loved him because Carlos is Carlos, what you see is what you get. No pretense. Carlos met my friends and we had dinners and parties and good times. San Francisco; tea in the Japanese Garden; drinks in the Castro; a drive around Lake Tahoe. Then he had to go home and, once again, we wondered what we would do next.

We called and emailed still; he spoke with my parents and friends and I spoke with his family until it became clear that I would move to Miami. I had a job that would transfer well to Florida and, well, there are times in life where you just have to, as I like to say, Shake the Etch-A-Sketch.

So, where does this all lead? It leads to today, eighteen years after I stepped off another plane in Florida, though this time I wouldn't be staying a week or so. Eighteen years ago today Carlos and I started our life together and there was no looking back; only forward.

And it’s now been four years since we stood before a judge in Bellingham, Washington, saying our vows. I seriously never thought I would see the day that I would ... that I could ... marry Carlos, with my father as a witness, but we did just that. I only wish my mother and sister could have been there in more than just spirit because, as much as they love me, they love Carlos as much ... maybe more.

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. How things change; as I remember that story now, realizing it may have been my first shot at coming out— s 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 so, fourteen years after meeting and moving, marriage became a reality for us—perhaps not in our new home in South Carolina … it wasn’t legal here yet—we looked at each other one night and just knew it was time.

I wanted to get married on our anniversary, October 17, because, and he’ll hate me for saying it and then he’ll quickly forget I said it at all, Carlos is bad with dates; I figured the last thing he needed was another “us” date to recall. So, in August 2014, we decided to go for it. We’d planned a trip to New York City—one of our favorite spots where equality had landed—and a week of sights and shows and drinks and fun. I called my father and told him the good news; he was so happy for us but that he wouldn’t, couldn’t come, because he doesn’t 'do' big cities. I thought, Oh that’s okay, Dad and let it go, but every time we talked about it, he’d always say that same thing.

And then it hit me: I’m an idiot. My father was saying how much he wanted to see Carlos and I marry; he’d seen my brother get married, he walked my sister down the aisle, and he wanted to see Carlos and I do the same.

New York was out, and Bellingham was in, and off we went to Sumas, a literal hop and skip—no jump because it's that close—from Canada. We’d get married in Bellingham—a beautiful city on Bellingham Bay—and on our first day there, applied for our marriage license. It was a snap, and afterward we had lunch with my Dad. While driving around Carlos wondered about the three-day waiting period, and I said it gave people a chance to make sure this was what they wanted to do, and he replied,

Yeah, three days! Because fourteen years isn’t long enough.

I almost drove off the road.

By Friday the 17th, we were ready to get this thing done. Since the only person we knew in Washington was my Dad, and we needed two witnesses, he asked his friend Casey and her boyfriend, Tyler, to be our witnesses.

At four-thirty we were inside the Bellingham Courthouse — through security … do I really need to take my belt off — and upstairs to meet Judge Henley. Then it was short trek down the hall to an open courtroom, followed by a few instructions, a quick chat … Judge Henley said the ceremony calls for the use of the word ‘spouse’ or the word ‘husband’ and asked what we wanted to do. Carlos and I said, in unison, Husbands! 

Anyone can have a spouse, we each wanted a husband.

I don’t remember too much about the actual ceremony, really. I remember giggling a little and giving Carlos a side-eye during the richer-poorer part because I thought he’d say, Hmm, poorer? Maybe not so much. And I remember getting teary-eyed listening to him repeat his vows because Carlos can be very serious, and he rarely gets weepy; but he stumbled over some words, and his voice cracked, and my eyes watered, but we made it through. A quick exchange of rings—that’s them up there on top—and it was kiss the groom. Kiss.The.Groom. Who knew? Bing bang boom, married.

Afterward, my father took the wedding gang out for dinner at a restaurant along the bay, where we watched the sunset over the marina, and drank a little and laughed a lot, and let it all sink in. My father, some new friends, and my new husband.

It was all so simple, really, and yet such a long time coming; from the days when that little kid never thought he could get married to four years ago when a much older kid realized he could, and would, and did.

So, this year, while we celebrate eighteen years as a couple as partners, lovers, friends, travelers, we are also celebrating our fourth year of marriage.

It’s been a fabulous ride and, while I didn’t say this myself—Charlotte said it in one of those Sex and the City movies—I like to say that I am happy every single day with Carlos. Oh, not all day, every day, because that’s life, but every single day for the last eighteen years, I have realized how happy I am and how happy he makes me.

And that’s something to celebrate!

PS Also celebrating anniversaries today are Anne Marie of From My Brain to My Mouth and Todd of ArTeeJee, as well as Travel Penguin and his Sweet Bear!

Stop in and wish them all Happy Happy!