We’ll Have a Gay Old Time

by Kevin Lee

“Have a yabba dabba doo time, a dabba doo time, we’ll have a gay old time.”

Hurrah, huzzah, my marriage counts again! When a federal judge struck down California’s gay marriage ban as discriminatory, it validated my own legal union.

Sure, I’m straight; I’ve got the seared eardrums to prove it. My longtime gal and I stood before a padre some years back with a few hundred witnesses looking on, exchanged rings, the whole nine yards. It’s why I know the hidden value of the letters E-L-O-P-E.

“So then what does gay marriage have to do…?”

Simple. A crux of the courtroom argument supporting the ban on gay marriage rested on matters of procreation. We’ve all heard the canard: “If they can’t reproduce, there’s no basis for their union. Procreation is a central aspect of marriage.” This is common in Mobile, a socially and politically conservative town with strong Catholic roots.

Inevitably I hear those same folks say their strongest determining factor in being in Mobile lies in their perception of its perfection as a place to raise kids. And from the proliferation of “lavender marriages” – gay folks involved in man-woman unions for appearance’s sake – in this town, the allure of raising kids must be irresistible.

What about those of us who choose to remain child-free? My medical issues and relative poverty don’t add to what I see as a responsible situation for raising kids. What about others who have emotional or psychological problems, maybe not so much they can’t see it for themselves but enough to realize children shouldn’t be brought into the situation?

Well, I guess marriage is no option for anyone mentioned above. They used to call it “living in sin” to merely cohabitate with your emotional partner sans the “I do” but I guess the real sin is having a partner at all. How dare we think we’re worthy of such!

So let’s carry this to its logical conclusion. Alcoholic struggling with abuse, doing their best to maintain without the strain of kids? Either start whelping or walk away from the union. Who cares if your partner is part of your successful recovery? You’ve got no right.

Post-menopausal? Burn your license and melt down your ring. The free ride’s over, Grandma. You and Paw-Paw will have to shack up from now on. So you squeezed out a couple of babies decades ago. Big deal. That dusty uterus now makes your union defunct.

What do ya’ say? Maybe we should put a limit on those struggling unsuccessfully for impregnation, too? Let’s make it five years. You can’t get a healthy bun rising in the oven by then, maybe we should shut down the bakery altogether. Perhaps you’re just Satan’s Little Bake Shop, promising pumpernickel tomorrow while sneaking in adopted loaves through the back. Is that frosting I smell, or foster kids?

But, the Prop 8 proponents counter, as long as there is the necessary equipment matching up, you know, a wee-wee fitting into a woo-woo (as they say in front of “heaven’s little blessings” ) then that’s what matters. Otherwise, marriage becomes a mockery.

OK, so the requisite parts are the catalyst? Well, what if the Love Tunnel is implanted on a 20-something trailer park bimbo latching onto a doddering octogenarian millionaire that she never lives with? That honors the sanctity of the institution?

What about Britney Spears running to the altar for a 55-hour marriage to a childhood pal? Or the many weddings of celebs like Liz Taylor?

Hell, I’ve got an Uncle Joe that signed a marriage license with eight different – or was it nine? – brides in his life, including one freaky situation where he married one in a pair of twins and I think all three of them lived together for a while. I never asked the particulars of that scenario but I swear an aura of wah guitar emerged from the silence every time I saw them together.

What about the 50-percent of hitches that end in divorce? None of that damages the reputation of marriage?

This is ridiculous. For starters, no one wants a law forcing churches to marry anybody. All “the gays” are looking for is legally recognized unions. They want to be able to name recipients of the insurance policies they pay for with no argument. They want to give their emotional partners access to life-and-death decisions or visitation in terminal situations. What’s so unreasonable about that? The utilization of tax breaks given to married couples might be nice, too.

Plenty of Mobilians have gay friends, neighbors and acquaintances. We know they’re just like straight folks: some are cut out for commitment and some aren’t. But shouldn’t that be their choice?

Meanwhile, I’m supposed to listen to edicts on righteousness from an archdiocese with a record of shielding pedophiles from prosecution?

What the couple down the street does is no reflection on me and my wife. What defines our union is the way we treat each other. It’s our marriage and no one else’s, a matter of our hearts and as far as I can tell, no bishop or politician can see into those reaches.

When the child-bearing argument comes up, it seems to me the only ones damaging the legitimacy of my marriage are those who claim to be saving it. Here’s some advice: keep your mind off my gonads…and save your judgment for the grocery aisle. I can do without it.