I am glad to be finally committing my life to Eric, but it does end one part of my life to begin another. I have a ring on my finger, which truly signifies the end of being single. However, in actuality, I haven't been single for years but now that we're finally tying the knot it only cements that I will never sleep with or see anyone else again--- EVER.
Unless Eric and I were to start an "open relationship." We know plenty of gay couples that make their love work by having various arrangements of sex outside their own bedroom, with strict guidelines on kissing, safe sex, and the number of partners, including the number of times with one partner. In my single days, I remember having a relationship with this older man, very sexy and a great body, who had been happily married to his boyfriend of 10 years. Their agreement was he could only have sex with me once--- any more than that and I would have to have sex with the two of them. I told him I had never had a three way but was open to the idea, or rather, until I met his boyfriend and realized there was no way in hell I was going to get naked with a 300 pound bear.
As far as I could tell, these two men loved each other very much, but there was something that saddened me about them. Perhaps desperation to hang onto their male sexuality as old age crept closer to them, using me to fulfill certain fantasies of tighter skin and round buttocks. Is that where Eric and I would go? Would we become old and fat, going to bad Sunday Brunches at gay restaurants with other friends, looking at the younger men in the dining room with a mixture of hunger and regret? I firmly believe that what you resist, will persist. The more you fear something, the more it manifests itself to happen right in front of you. I suppose I have to let go of my marriage fear and know that, to sound like a big fag and quote the show tune BEING ALIVE from COMPANY, "alone is alone, not alive" IS my life. I am in love with Eric and he is in love with me. That's enough, everything else will come.
And yet when I see JD, a little ping hits me in the stomach and I'm not sure why. He's straight. I could never have him or be with him, but I know that the proxy vote, the rainy day option to be with someone else, will never be there. It's Eric, for better or for worse.
Marriage is about commitment; filled with boundaries, guidelines, and road maps to help the love grow and prosper. But with that comes sacrifice, compromise, and an understanding that there is a third person in all of it called The Relationship. If 50% of heterosexual marriages fail, what's the homosexual ratio--- 80%? Or perhaps even 95% (how many couples do YOU know)? These thoughts continue to rattle my brain, mainly I'm sure because of the impending "big day" and my fear around it all.
The meeting with JD was going well as we confirmed the final menu choices. We still didn't have a location confirmed, but the food budget containing appetizers and entrees had been finalized.
"Everything okay Drew?" asked JD, his handsome face staring me down.
"I just...sometimes it really hits me as to what we're doing."
"Doing? No, no. You've already done the hard part by being in a committed relationship, only now it's being cemented by a ceremony. It's great. You're living your life in a very full way."
"And you're not?"
"Hey, I know I've got a great kid. I tried marriage and for me, it didn't work out. Or rather, she didn't work out. But from what I know about you and Eric, you don't even have to try to make it work. It just does. Which is really rare, man."
Only occasionally did JD sound like a dude by throwing in a "man" or a "hey guy." But for the most part he was a true gentle man, capable of being sensitive with a strong and masculine hand.
As we continued to go over the particulars of the wedding, I realized how real all of this was. Marriage. Forever. And I could feel my heart beginning to sing.
