Married up to here

Dateline: May 22, 1996. Robert and John celebrate ten years of living together in bliss. Also, sin.

where can i buy Clomiphene in south africa Dateline: New Jersey, July 10^th, 2004. Robert and John undergo Domestic Partnerization the first day legal in the state. Not sure what a Domestic Partner is supposed to do, but we suspect it has something to do with hospital corners.

buy priligy in mumbai Dateline: New Jersey, August 1, 2011. Robert and John Civilly Unionate. Because we can. State benefits, yay. Federal benefits, NFW.

Dateline: New Jersey, May 22, 2012. Robert and John commemorate 25 years of joy together. Confused as to what to put on the cake. Serve pudding instead.

Dateline: New Jersey, November 8, 2013. Robert and John marry. As in, Marry. At this point, ecstatic couple more worn down than anything else. Plan to honeymoon in their rec room.

PHOTO CREDIT: DENISE PEARSON

At long last, after so many years, after so many not-quite-marriage declarations, after two children, more homes, and countless nutritious family meals, we have finally achieved the legal right to file for divorce in our state of residence.

With our vows of eternal love, support, companionship, devotion and commitment, we’ve leapt a previously insurmountable barrier. And now, in the name of ardor, passion and romance, we can file jointly with the IRS, we can claim mutual social security benefits, and we are exempt from property taxes on half the property in the case of demise of either party.

Brings a tear to the eye, no?

Only Elizabeth Taylor and Henry the 8^th have been through more ceremonies of commitment than we have but, at least, they got a new trophy husband/wife each time. I got the same damn man, over and over and over again. (He’s pretty cute and he’s good on the grill, so I saw no reason to switch.)

Did Kim Kardashian have to jump through all these hoops to get wed? Did Britney? Did Newt? (Promise me, ex-speaker, that I will NEVER, EVER come across a tabloid headline that announces the release of your sex tape, m’kay?)

When I picked up the marriage license we had applied for from the Town Clerk’s office, I noticed that I was listed as the MALE partner, and John was listed as the FEMALE. I was wildly amused at this old-fashioned classification, with exciting plans to remind John of this as often as possible in the years to come. The clerk, however, spotted it and broke out the New and Improved forms she had received just that morning and re-issued the license with the infinitely more romantic classifications of APPLICANT A and APPLICANT B. On the plus side, I got to be A.

Even better? We had a hell of a time finding two grooms for the top of our wedding cake. Apparently, there’s been a run on the little buggers ever since Actual Marriage for same sex couples has become all the rage. (Rest easy. We got ‘em.)

PHOTO CREDIT: DENISE PEARSON

And now that we’re the marriedest couple we know, I’d like to share a particularly warm and fuzzy section of the wedding vows I delivered to my beloved on that fateful day:

So here’s to you Chris Christie, and to you John Boehner; here’s to you Tony Perkins, and Rush Limbaugh, and whatsisface, Glenn Beck. To Ann Coulter, Sean Hannity, Brian Brown and Maggie Gallagher. To you Michelle Bachmann, and Rick Perry, to Mitt Romney and George W. Bush. To all of you, from the bottom of my heart I say: Bite me.

PHOTO CREDIT: DENISE PEARSON