Hold on to your cargo shorts, kids… they let me in to NC. For me, the decision to ban gay marriage in the state is not only disappointing, but infuriating. Was I planning on getting married in North Carolina this weekend? No. But the passing of this particular gem of legislation from the crazy flakes who want to tell me who gets entrance into my vagina and who doesn’t (because I’m a fucking lady and you don’t get in there until marriage) comes within hours of yours truly heading to a family wedding in the outer banks. The beautifully kitschy town of Corolla is where I will be camping my gay ass for the next four days. My family, though incredibly supportive in the immediate circle, has some sticklers in the outer rings when it comes to my “lifestyle”. Uncles, a few cousins, and other randoms have shown their disapproval the Christian way… by ignoring me at family functions. And to be honest, it has been fabulous not having to make small talk. For the last wedding, I even brought a girl in a dress, which I thought would help their opinion of the gheys. That girl and I didn’t work out, and it was for the best… we can all face the fact that ladies in dresses tend to be not exactly my type. I like my women like I like my men… looking a little bit like a man. I don’t need facial hair or anything, just an unspoken rule about who wears the lacy thongs and who wears the boxer briefs. And my legs are just too big for boxer briefs… they cut off circulation to my soccer player thighs.
So I am getting on a plane, then another plane, then arriving in a small town where I will rent a car and drive to yet another small town to watch my heterosexual cousin marry his long time, live-in (GASP!) girlfriend. The real peaches in my family are not even attending because the ceremony is “far away” (otherwise known as “not in a church”). I love my cousin, and I am thrilled that he can get married to whomever he chooses and if need be, get divorced and marry ANOTHER whomever he chooses, but he will never have to worry about being banned from getting married. For one, he’s white. Also, he likes women almost as much as I do. The other problem with this weekend? I am in a new relationship, and while that means less bitter and angry blog posts, it also means I will be gushing like an eighth grade girl at this wedding about my new lady. With only a select few to listen to my twitterpainted tale of lesbian romance (which for the record has not involved any trips to Lowe’s or purchasing of a shelter animal), my poor sister will suffer the brunt of my verbal relationship vomit. On the plus side, my friends in Columbus get a break.
Readers, you will receive updates as this trip winds down, and I know I will enjoy a few days of beachy views and sand under my fingernails. I just hope I can contain myself enough to leave my marriage equality t-shirt at home when heading to the beach… it’s not that I’m opposed to fighting a few rednecks, but if I wear it, I won’t be able to show off my new bikini. Maybe an equality sign out of body paint is the answer.