Maddie and I met Sarah & Dawn at the Atlanta book talk where we were working the line telling people to submit their stories already. And I'm so profoundly grateful that Sarah submitted this story because it's so important on so many levels. Sarah dives into why we get married. She talks about why legally recognized marriage is important for everyone. And she talks about deciding if marriage is right for you, and how that can change over time.

My partner and I have been together for almost six years. Over the years, a lot has happened that made us "feel" like we were married: lived together, moved states together, gone through a mess of family crap together, gone though immigration bullshit together, mourned the loss of our insanely sweet pet together, bought a car together, put one of us through school together, drove across the country together. And still, we’re together! We make an awesome team and are crazy in love with each other. And so, I unceremoniously moved from calling her my girlfriend to my partner, at some point I don't even know when. And yet, I kind of hate calling her that. I know some folks may get down with the title, but it doesn't feel right to me. We're not a business. I run my own business and when I'm out and about I want it clear when I introduce her: this is my wife not my business partner.

The trouble was I didn't feel like I could just make that switch overnight. That didn't feel right either. Neither of us really wanted a wedding though—or truthfully, we didn't feel like we needed a wedding. We were together and that was all that mattered, right? We love each other and I firmly trust in that and know we'll do whatever it takes together to make it happen. Plus, neither of us had dreamed of a wedding, ever. We didn’t come with childhood fantasies about this or that happening. When I would bring up exploring the option of having a wedding, she would say, essentially, she could go either way on it. She already felt married so it wasn't so important to her. But, over time, it became important to me. More aptly, the moment became really important to me. I needed a moment, a concrete memory, so I could remember when I made a commitment to her, and she to me, that we are sticking in this together. I wanted to recall that specific day and remember what she said and what I said and remember what it felt like and what the weather was like and if I was nervous or cold or jittery or just crazy excited!

About this time, I had this line down that was slipping off of my tongue a little too easily. Buying a pair of prescription glasses, they ask me, "Are you married?" I reply, "For the purposes of insurance, yes but legally, no." Checking into the doctor, filling out the form, same line. Picking up a prescription at the drug store, same line. For any type of legal paperwork, I had to a quick mental jog to figure out *why* they wanted to know if I was married and answer appropriately. We are lucky that her employer offers SSDP benefits so I'm on her insurance plan. But SSDP sounds like some sort of court ordered monitor to me. I scrapped that title and took on the line since it was lesser of the two. Are you married? I'm her same sex domestic partner. What? No thanks. Where is the love in that title? I want to be married. I wanted to just say "yes" and have them figure out what it means for their paperwork and I'll just walk away in my bliss. It's not my problem. You figure it out.

It was decided then. We'll have a wedding. It pretty much went down like that, too. I realized that I needed that moment. I told her I wanted that moment, it was important to me, and she, while drinking coffee one morning, just said okay. No rings. No big hoopla or surprise. No down on one knee. No who will propose to whom. Just an agreement that we'll do it. I was stoked! When we would tell people we're getting married, they always ask how it went down or let me see the ring. And we tell them, we just decided. No rings. We probably won't even exchange rings at the ceremony. We just want the moment. Continue reading Everyone Deserves a Moment