So, my husband and I were here, just making sure our 22 year, heterosexual marriage could survive the onslaught of equality....
And of course, I'm rather emotional under my detached, cynical exterior. So I got some equality in my eye and it was leaking just a skoosh. And I felt my husband's hand on my shoulder, lightly squeezing. And I noticed that he was swallowing a few lumps of sympathetic joy as well.
"We got married in a city hall, just like they are," he said gruffly. "But I think most of them are dressed classier than we were."
I agreed and smiled a little at the memory of his pinstripe shirt and skinny tie. Plus hair.
We gazed on the pictures together in silence for another moment. Then his hand tightened on my shoulder again.
"I missed out on so much when I was homophobic. So many friends I might have had, if I hadn't been afraid of what others thought."
"It's probably not too late to reconnect with them," I commented.
"Most of them are dead," he responded in a hollow tone. I looked at him as he gazed at the pictures on my screen, a tear running down his nose.
"I'll never be that stupid again."
I placed my hand over his and we scrolled through the pictures, and it occurred to me that homosexual marriage had just made mine stronger.
So...thanks for that. Thank you very much.