A and I met in 2009. I was in Chicago, halfway through graduate school, and she was beginning a career with the world’s favorite purveyor of Scandinavian furniture. Not expecting much, we were introduced to each other through our one mutual connection (the internet), which matched us based on one common interest (sushi). Fast friends, we put off exploring romantic feelings for each other, correctly reasoning that neither of us was mentally or emotionally ready for commitment at that time. But, a year to the day after we first met, we officially tumbled headlong into love over bottles of Coca-Cola Classic and the best damn tacos in the universe.
I wish we could say that our relationship was smooth sailing from the “Summer of Love” on, but like all real-life relationships, we’ve had our challenges. A is a very tall, very pale, very logical, corn-fed gal from the Chicago suburbs. When she met me--a short and stocky, loquacious, brown-eyed and brown-skinned Los Angeleno--our contrasts were much more in focus than our commonalities. Our first argument? The benefits of public schooling over private (with her for, and me, against, the former). The next one? Affirmative action and its effects on white Americans (guess which sides we took!). Admittedly, quite the controversial topics to tackle early in a relationship, but I think our willingness to engage in these all-too-important discussions from the get-go exposed a bravery, an openness, and a tremendous capacity for empathy that I have never shared with anyone else, and I was hooked.
When it was clear to us that our differences enhanced our relationship and presented opportunities for us to grow, we decided to marry. The world was not supportive. A's family had a difficult time accepting that she is gay, and some wished I would “just go away.” During our engagement photo shoot, we attracted horn honks and homophobic slurs hurled out of the windows of moving vehicles. One particularly scary night, we were trapped in our home as local frat boys hurled beer bottles at our building and yelled for the “faggots” to let them in. For hours, we waited for police who would never come.
Eager to experience the protection of legal marriage, but unable to marry in Illinois, we eloped on December 30, 2011. In an incredibly intimate ceremony, we took traditional marriage vows in our friends’ living room in Massachusetts, the first state in our nation to legalize unions like ours. Afterward, we feasted on prime rib and truffle fries, and all was right with the world. Fast forward through five years spent in Chicago, Seattle, Boston, and now New Haven: we’re still finding silver linings in challenges, encouraging each other to grow, and feasting, often.
If there is anything to which we can attribute five wonderful years of marriage, it would have to be these: food and faith. Even our most heated battles are typically engaged over common ground (the dining room table), and our best days are usually spent shuffling around our little kitchen, dicing and sauteing and creating together. As for the other magic ingredient, blame that on the church! We were both raised Catholic, and although the Roman Catholic Church does not necessarily support our life together, we’re inspired by the good work of Catholic Sisters throughout the world, and light tiny flames of social justice in their names wherever we find ourselves. New Haven happens to be home to one of a few congregations of the American National Catholic Church, a religious organization formed in the Catholic tradition--sans all the judgement and exclusivity--and most Sunday mornings, you’ll find us attending Mass at St. Joseph of Arimathea on Grand Avenue. We gather each week alongside neighbors of many cultures, ages, and orientations to reflect on messages of humility and service, while reminded of our own dignity and worth. It’s a uniquely affirming experience for us as individuals and as a couple, and needless to say, we dig it.
So that’s it, that’s us. As I sit in my living room and reflect on five years, sandwiched between two sleeping puppies and watching snow fall steadily onto West Rock, there’s no stopping the swell of my heart or the spread of my smile. We’ve worked very hard to repair the damage sustained during emotional battles with our families, and from it, now know what it means to give and receive unconditional love. We take the time every week to nurture our own spirits, and every evening to connect with each other’s. It’s a simple life, but with full bellies and happy hearts, I know we’ll be walking through it hand-in-hand.
