With gay marriage now legalized in New York, every homo I know seems to be walking down the aisle. A wedding is something I never thought about doing, but that’s because as a gay man- I couldn’t.
Anthony and I recently met our cute little lesbian neighbors who asked us to come to City Hall with them and serve as witnesses to their marriage. We thought it would be something different, and it would get us out of the house. So naturally, we agreed to participate in their ceremony.
On the planned morning of the lesbo wedding, Anthony and I threw on shirts and ties that he bought us somewhere the night before. Of course, his fit him perfectly and mine was as big as a dress. It was clear that he was the “best man”, and I was the “bridesmaid”. At least that’s how we were dressed. I couldn’t handle that, so I ended up wearing a blue plaid Abercrombie shirt and making him switch ties with me so I (at least) matched. If I do say so myself, my ensemble looked much better than his did in the end.
After spending all that time playing Project Runway and another hour or so of waiting in line, the girls found out that there was a waiting period after getting the license meaning; they had to wait for a few days before they officially got hitched by the justice of the peace. They were really upset, but Anthony cheered them up by suggesting they take the time to plan something special and offered our help.
Then, that’s when it all happened.
One of the girls looked up and said, “why don’t you guys get a license and get married too!” Frankly, I don’t remember which one said it, but I wanted to snap her head off. Anthony looked at me, “wanna do it?”. It was in that moment I melted for the first time. I was fading in and out of consciousness, in a sense, but I knew I had to decide fast since the line was growing closer and closer. One of the girls, again not sure which (a lesbian is a lesbian, right?) pulled a ring off her finger and said “Papi, you have to do it right… get down on your knee and ask the man properly.” Anthony got down on one knee and smiled, “Dylan, we’ve only known each other a short amount of time but I want forever to be just like this. I can’t imagine my future without you in it. Will you be my husband?” He slid the ring onto my finger. Who wouldn’t say yes to that? Before you know it, we were filling out applications for a marriage license.
On the ride home, Anthony and the girls kept going on-and-on about how in a few days we’ll have a joint wedding and kept bouncing around ideas. At first, I only listened. Then I found myself actively listening and finally, without realizing it, I was all caught up in the drama like a gushing bride.
Over the next couple of days, we planned it all out. One of the girls found a server where they worked who was ordained online, so she went and registered with the city to officiate over our ceremonies. I couldn’t help but notice Anthony seemed really excited about getting married, yet it seemed as though he had to stay out later and later each night making drug runs, leaving me to do all the work.
Then, the night before our big day, he called and suggested he stay at a friends. He said his sister told him it was bad luck to see each other before the ceremony. At the time I didn’t think about the fact that his tux was in our closet, because I was so pissed off that he was leaving me at home. He was adamant about it, so eventually I just gave in. When I asked him to bring me some drugs, he acted appalled: “go to bed, Dylan. We should be well rested for our big day tomorrow and not strung out.” To me, that was bullshit since we hadn’t spent more than a couple of hours together while sober. Luckily, I cried myself to sleep after downing a few tylenols.
The next morning, I was awoken to a lesbian pounding on my door, screaming that we needed to leave for the park NOW. I told her that Anthony wasn’t there, and his phone was going straight to voicemail. I grew angrier and angrier with each unanswered call to his cell. Not only was this supposed to be our wedding day, but he had left me to deal with the angry lesbians.
Although the girls wanted me to go with them and said I shouldn’t even doubt the fact that Anthony was going to be there, I decided to wait back for him.
He showed up about an hour later. He was clearly tweaked out of his mind, and I wasn’t happy. I didn’t bother confronting him about it. He would ever admit it anyway, but I knew deep down that he partied all night leaving me at home alone. I knew it I might be something that I would resent him for later and a moment I would never forget.
Still, he managed to charm me into a cab and off to the park to get married. He complimented me all the way there. I could see the excitement in his big, cracked out pupils. Despite the fact that I wanted to call the whole thing off a few hours ago, I was suddenly wrapped up in the idea again.
The wedding was taking place in “The Rambles”, an area in the middle of Central Park that both Anthony and I knew and was popular for gay cruising. The girls were just saying their “I do’s” when we arrived. Before I knew it, I was getting married just a few feet away from where I had once fucked a stranger in the middle of the night while picking his pockets for both cash and crack. As a matter of fact, it took longer to get laid by a strannger in the dark than it did to get hitched by a dyke who was ordained online.